#like i'm not saying it's okay that he pushed it from his mind i'm just saying it makes sense since he was also so involved

[realcube]

DRINK LIKE THE BANDS!

SENDAI FROGS BAND AU! in which you are their fav groupie <3

tws/tags → kyoutani, koganegawa, tsukishima x reader. NSFW MINORS DNI. alcohol, smoking, cursing, pda, fourway (except they don't really have sex with each other, just you), vaginal, oral (receiving & giving), anal, breeding, degradation, praise, impact play, overstimulation, slight daddy kink & slutshaming

note → inspired by this delicious fanart. smut is labelled if you want to skip to it. word count: 10.6k

your fingers frantically dart over your phone keyboard as you spam the groupchat, desperate for a reply or at least some acknowledgement.

laboured breaths heaved out of you while your eyes rapidly shift around, scanning your environment for your friends or anybody that could help you but even if they were nearby, your brain was too clouded with panic to fully process what you were seeing and all the moving bodies surrounding you.

and it was completely reasonable to be troubled in this situation, since your friends have abandoned you in a random club that you've never been to before. to make things worse, you had come on the busiest night of the week, meaning there was a sea of people bustling around and clogging up the venue and your friends could be lost among them.

however, you have an inkling as to where they might be.

before you lost them, your whole friendgroup were on the floor, enjoying the music of the rock band that was performing; dancing and singing along. your group had agreed that you were going to buy more drinks inbetween sets, so as soon as the sendai frogs had finished, they were all eager to head over to the bar.

that was, until you informed them you needed to use the bathroom. although they claimed there was no issue in coming with you, clearly they must have grew impatient, as they weren't outside waiting for you like they promised.

considering how keen they were to get their drinks, you're confident that you'll be able to find them ordering at the bar. that certainty puts your mind at ease for only a moment, before you realise — with how conjested it is — it would be virtually impossible to go anywhere. there was a wall of sweaty bodies that you'd have to penetrate with brute force, in addition to the overall darkness that left you unable to see where the bar even is.

this instilled a familiar sense of panic in you, but with whatever courage you're able to muster from the remnents of alcohol in your system, you persevere and lauch yourself forward into the crowd.

only to immediately be pushed around like a ragdoll and elbowed in any and every appendage you have. your drunken balance didn't do much to help you either, so naturally, it wasn't long before a dancing patron sent you stumbling backward, about to fall onto your ass if it weren't for a pair of arms that hook under your shoulders and stable you just in time.

your eyes widen at the touch, and once you stand up, you immediately spin around on your heels to see who caught you. it's hard to make out their features under the flickering, multi-coloured lights of the club, but you could tell it was a tall guy with brushy brows and a dyed stripe at the front of his hair.

" 'm so sorry!" you cover your mouth with your hands in embarassment, despite having to scream your apology due to the loud music.

"don't worry about it! you okay? you look worried." he says with a toothy smile, hand resting on your shoulder. his touch is reassuring so it doesn't bother you; especially as you were too consumed by humiliation to pay any mind to it.

"i'm fine, just looking for my friends." though you yell the first part, your voice begins to trail off closer to the end of the sentence, hence he crouches slightly so he can hear you better.

"lost?" he confirms what you said, brows furrowed togehter in confusion.

you simply nod, and he straightens himself, surveying his surroundings as though he would be able to find them, or even know what they look like, "how'd you lose them?"

you shrug. the stress of the situation coupled with the overwhelming atmosphere had your eyes pricking with tears, as you croak, "i came out the bathroom and they were just gone."

the guy scrunches his face, and leans in closer to you as he yells, "what?!"

the live music was deafening yet you couldn't bring yourself to speak any louder, partially due to the tears threatening to spill from your eyes but also since you've already been screaming all night and are beginning to lose your voice.

despite your burning throat, you repeat what you said as loud as you can into this guy's ear, but he still shakes his head with a pout, "sorry, doll. can't hear you." he briefly looks around before he motions for you to come with him.

you follow, and in doing so you realise he must be a far more experienced club-goer than yourself, as he is able to use one arm to efficently ward off the other chaotic bodies and weave his way through the crowd, while the other arm is wrapped around your shoulders to protectively hold you close to his chest.

eventually you reach the bar area which is a lot further away from the stage so the music is far quiter, so you can finally hear yourself think.

however, once you glance around, you see how long the bar is. the end isn't even within your range of sight, so searching the whole length for your friends was going to prove to be challenging. but for now, you focus on the nice man who brought you off the dancefloor.

the lighting in this area is more ambient, with less strobes obstructing your view, so when you turned to look at him again, you were able to properly soak up all of his features, and it finally dawns on you that the guy you've ran into was the lead singer of the rock band that was playing right before you got seperated from your friends.

the sendai frogs, you think they were called. by no means were they absolute legends or rockstars; in fact, the first time you had ever heard of them was tonight, so they were definitely closer to being a small indie band. still, they made amazing music and you greatly admired their stage presense — also, he was pretty fucking hot.

so perhaps you weren't star-struck, but you were definitely pleasantly surprised and curious.

and that was made evident by the look on your face, which he thankfully didn't see because he was busy securing a seat at the bar and calling over the bartender.

he beckons for you to join him, but there are no other available seats next to him, so you simply stand awkwardly behind his stool while he orders, "one beer and.." he twists his body around to stare at you.

not expecting him to buy your drink as well, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, "a vodka coke, please?"

he whips around in his chair and proclaims to the bartender, "and one vodka coke!"

they nod, and scuttle off to make your drinks. while the guy, whose name you remember to be koganegawa from his performance earlier, eagerly encourages you to sit down and make yourself comfortable.

"uh, there's no seats." you point out shyly, at which he raises his eyebrows and double-checks the surrounding area. even for some nearby chairs that you could perhaps drag over, but as you originally suggested, there were zero.

"huh. that's alright." his demeanour quickly shifts from defeated to regularly perky, as he slips his hands around your waist and gently guides you onto his lap.

you defintely weren't expecting it, but you couldn't say you were opposed either. getting this kind of attention from such a cute guy who is also in rock band doesn't come often. and there's something about his manner that's so smooth and sweet; perhaps it was that honeyed smile that made his wandering hands playful and not perverse.

sat pretty on his lap, his hazel eyes carefully scan up and down your figure, with his head lazily resting on his arm that's propped up on the bar. "you okay to sit here?" he asks and when you nod quietly, he secures your place on him by letting his spare hand run idly across your back, getting dangerously low at certain points. "so what was it you were saying about your friends?"

"they said they'd wait for me to come out the bathroom but they left without me instead."

"right. that's not cool." he muses, making an attempt to sympathise with you but it was hard to take him seriously when he couldn't even bring himself to make eye-contact with you, as his gaze were focussed elsewhere. "and what's your name?"

"(y/n). and yours?" you know his name, yet you ask him, to be polite.

"kanji." he utters, shameless ogling only faltering when the bartender finshes making your drink, and sets down an open bottle of beer for koganegawa and your vodka coke in a plastic cup. they also dispose of the empty beer bottle that kanji had been in posession of and left on the bar.

he grins at you when the beverages arrive, and doesn't waste any time in taking a swift gulp. not as keen as him, you also turn around to pick yours up and take a couple sips, but in doing so — since you are positioned with your back against the bar — you had to do a little bit of shuffling upon his lap, and the friciton only makes him grow more restless.

"(y/n) is a cute name, y'know." he slurs between gulps, and before you can even get a word in to thank him, he continues, "and your friends are idiots for leaving you alone at a club. that's so not girl-code."

you snicker at his observation, "what do you know about girl-code?"

"i know it means not to abandon your friend at a busy venue in the middle of the night! that's so dangerous; any random guy could come along and try to take you away." at first his tone resembles that of genuine concern, but as he speaks it devolves into clear irony and sarcasm, which is furthered by a teasing grab at your thigh.

"take me away to where?" you joke, while leaning into him, shortening the gap between you two. there's thick chemistry in the air, and that made obvious by how neither of you are particularly aware of what you're saying, and are focused on each other. his gaze flicker between your lips and eyes, filled with longing. you can tell he wants nothing more than a taste of your sweet skin, and the same is true for you.

"uh, i don't know. wherever they take hot girls."

you both laugh at his outrangeous suggestion, so hard that you find yourself limp against his chest. into his shirt, you mutter, "i wish." in reference to the part where he called you a 'hot girl', as you certainly didn't feel cute after being battered around callously like a leaf in a tornado.

while koganegawa's face screwed up with confusion, "huh?"

"i wish." you repeat, taking another sip of your drink.

"sorry." he sighs, slumping back in his chair and resting an arm behind his head, "can't hear you."

his tone was enigmatic, thus it was impossible to decipher as genuine or sarcastic, but his intentions are revealed as his lips pull into a smile of unmistakable lasciviousness.

you scoff, unamused and turn away from him, but he's quick to use your waist to angle you back towards him, hand wandering up your spine in the process, "i'm kidding, babe." he reassures you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he can lean in and whisper, "but why don't you come with me somewhere quieter?"

"where's that?" you ask meekly and he pulls away, but stops as his lips are inches away from yours.

"backstage." his hot breath tickles your skin, and the way his big hands possessively caress your body makes for an offer you can't refuse.

the instant you utter a word of agreement he's already scooped you up in his arms and carrying you bridal towards the side of the club, shoving past anyone that dare step in his road with a fiery vigour you typically only see in the marines.

all the way in the corner, there is a black door, signposted as 'performers only' and he puts you down so he can fumble with his ring of keys and try to unlock it.

eventually, he does and the door creaks open, and he invites you through. once you're on the other side, he clumsily tries to lock the door behind him, which gives you enough time to absorb your surroundings.

there isn't much. just a short hallway, with two other doors on the opposite wall: one was labelled as a bathroom while the other was unclear. at the left end of the hall, there was a bulky fire-exit door that was propped open, letting gusts of cool air waft inside, causing your hairs to stand on end. the fresh air, despite the chilliness, was a pleasant relief to the stuffiness and disgusting odor in the club area.

the door was being held open by a tall blonde guy, with rectangle glasses who you recognise as the bass guitarist from the sendai frogs, the same band koganegawa was in. his weight was pressed against the door as he smoked a cigarette; staring outside, he didn't even aknowledge the two of you entering.

though kanji didn't pay any mind to him either. as soon as he was done locking the door to the club, he moved to the unlabelled door on the opposite side of the hallway and attempted to unlock that. he had lots of keys to choose from but after five minutes of trying, he huffed, "fucks' sake, which one is it?!"

that is when tsukishima — you remembered his name too — decided to chime in. without making eye-contact, he remarked while exhaling a wispy puff of smoke, "we don't have the key, remember? kyoutani took it."

koganegawa's jaw fell upon recollection of this information, letting out a dramatically prolonged groan, in contrast to tsukishima who was completely unbothered.

"damn it.." koganegawa mutters, nervously rubbing the side of his face, "do you know where he is?"

"if i did, do you think i'd be standing out here?"

koganegawa grunted at his snide response then rushed back, placing his hand on your shoulder while he unlocked the door to the club, "wait here, doll. i'll be right back." he left you with a quick peck on the cheek before he ran out in the club area, presumably to search for kyoutani, leaving you alone in the empty hallway with tsukishima, who only now cared to look over at you. needless to say, he was intrigued.

maybe it was a the alcohol or the lustful high you were on, but you were feeling cheery enough to strike up a conversation with other blond you were left with. especially since you didn't know how long koganegawa would be gone for, "uh, are you kanji's bandmate?"

he stared at you through his lenses, and when you spoke he narrowed his eyes, "can't hear you." he said monotonely, shifting his gaze back onto the damp streets outside.

"oh." his statement was worrying as you were less than eight feet away from him, and the blaring music had been nullified now that you were in a seperate area, hence you could hear him just fine. but there was a chance being on stage with all the speakers and intruments might've taken a toll on his hearing, so you do him the courtesy of not questioning it and moving towards him, until you were standing right against the frame of the fire-exit.

now that you were closer, your senses were overwhelmed by the ashy smell of his second-hand smoke, mixed with the bitter cold of the outside air; it took everything in you not to cough.

additionally, you were able to properly see into the streets now, and they were as sobering as you anticipated. the fire-exit lead into a random allayway, with a nearby dumpster that was overflowing with garbage. to the point there were shattered glass bottles scattered across the ground nearby.

the moon must've been out too but you couldn't see it from where you were standing. you could tell tsukishima could see it though; you think you can see the reflection of the celestial body in his brown eyes. and only the moonlight could illuminate his features in such a heavenly way.

"i just asked if you are kanji's bandmate." you clarified.

"didn't you see us perform together earlier?" he doesn't look at you.

"yeah, i did. your songs ar—" just as you were about to recount your experience of watching their set from the crowd, tsukishima cuts you off.

"then why are you asking if i'm his bandmate?"

your eyes widen at his sharp words; from the way he conversed with koganegawa, you picked up on the fact he was a bit snarky, but you were under the impression it was likely banter between friends and that he would treat you — a non-friend — a bit nicer. but you couldn't have been more wrong.

your throat dried up and you were at a complete loss, unsure of a possible response to such a nasty quip. it worried you that he might have said that with the intention of leaving you speechless so you wouldn't talk to him any longer; rockstars do have a reputation of being divas, but he certainly hasn't reached 'star' status yet, so you wonder who gave him the right to behave like one.

while you were being troubled by such notions, in direct contradiction to his original attitude, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and flicks it open, "want one?" he offers in a characteristically dry manner.

it did puzzled you as to how he could follow up such venom with a innocuous gesture; the duality was shocking, but you were far too drunk to think about it for too long. instead, you carefully remove a cigarette from the pack and hum, "thank you."

in swift succession, he lights it for you, then goes right back to staring at the moon in silence. strings of smoke drift out of his nose to mingle with the icy night air, and once it dissipates, he unhurriedly brings the cigarette back up to his lips for another long draw.

mimicking his action, you inhale like he does, which directly leads to a coughing and spluttering mess as your lungs react to the volume of conjestive fumes. your eyes prick with tears and you swat your hand around in order to clear the cloud of smoke around you, and to add insult to injury, through your watery gaze you see a smug smirk plastered on tsukishima's face.

"slow down. these are reds." he remarks, clearly with the intention to mock you because if he really wanted to help, that advice would've been useful before you took a draw.

when the fresh air in your lungs offsets the smoke, you're able to catch your breath, and the first thing you do is reply: "you seem like an expert."

though you meant that as an insult, tsukishima evidently didn't deem it as one, and may not have picked up on your malicious intent either, as he simply shrugs and keeps his eyes locked onto the sky. "eh. anyone would look like an expert standing next to you." amused by his own joke, greyed puffs of mist exit his nostrils with each dry chuckle. noticing that you're not laughing, just gawking at him with your big dumb eyes, he spits, "what are you looking at?"

"you look really nice in this light." you answer, timidly.

his features stretch into a look of disgust and confusion, which does a poor job of concealing the burning heat rising to his cheek. quick to avert his gaze in frustration, he huffs, "right. thanks."

you add, "a lot nicer than you did on the stage. the strobes weren't very becoming on you."

there it was. the insult he was anticipating. thankfully, as an experienced aggressor, he always has a retort brewing on the back-burner, ready to sling, "i'm not going to take that from a girl who was hacking up smoke a minute ago."

perhaps it was the drunken bravery tainting your blood stream that gave you the audacity to step forward, until you toe-to-toe with him, and take a shallow draw of your cigarette to blow the smoke right back out onto his face.

having seen you coming, he seals his lips and screws his eyes shut, staying that way until your smoke disperses. thus it doesn't affect him that much, but that's not to say he isn't peeved. once you're done and are about to retreat, he harshly grasps your jaw to hold you in place.

leering down at you, he said bluntly, "you're annoying." silently, he admired the way your face looked in his hand, under the ivory moonlight; how your cheeks were framed so perfectly by your hair, and how your glossy lips enticed him. he didn't even know your name but he knew he wanted to press a kiss to every inch of your supple skin.

you're already so submissive; it turns him on to think about what he could do with you in bed.

"sorry." despite the tell of insincerity, you can't help but grin. pleased with the fact he's already touching you the way you like. leaning into his palm, and squish your cheek against his knuckles, and the next steps come naturally from there, as he yanks you up to meet his lips.

however, you can only cherish the intimate sensation for half a moment; you're not even given enough time to establish a rhythm before you both hear a rattling noise coming from down the hallway, to which you react by instinctually prising yourselves off each other and taking your respective places at either side of the fire-exit frame.

and thank goodness you did, as koganegawa and kyoutani stumble in. koganegawa barks orders like a wasted drill sargent, while kyoutani wears the most aggrevated look on his face, a fat vein buldging on his forehead, ready to burst.

"unlock the door, mad dog." koganegawa crosses his arms over his chest and slumps against the wall, while kyoutani thrashes the key around inside the lock, ramming into the door with his shoulder when it doesn't budge, "why did you take the key anyway? you should've gave it to one of us."

kyoutani seems to have tuned out koganegawa's slurred complaints, and eventually — either due to the key or the brute force he was applying to the door — it flies open and koganegawa cheers, beckoning you over. while kyoutani goes in on his own.

you awkwardly glance at tsukishima first, with look that says a thousand words, before you approach koganegawa. he beams, gesturing for you to go in, "c'mon, make yourself comfortable."

without a word, you nod and scuttle into the room.

koganegawa was about to follow right behind you, until he sees tsukishima walk over too, and he promptly stops him from entering by blocking the doorway with his body, "woah! what do you think you're doing?" there was a chance tsukishima was just going to enter the lounge to dispose of his cigarette butt, but koganegawa knew better than to trust his smartass bandmate.

"joining her." tsukishima responds blankly with no remorse in his words, to koganegawa's dismay. he could be slow at times, but kanji was no dummy; he knew by those two words alone what had happened between the two of you in the five minutes he left to find kyoutani. a part of him wanted to reprimand tsukishima for breaching every single law of bro-code, but he knew to not waste his breath of somebody who doesn't care for any form of respect or affability.

instead, he chose the confrontational route, which tsukishima was proficient in.

"you're not joining her; i called dibs!" koganegawa whines, his brows scrunching together as he pouts.

"dibs? you can't call dibs on a person." tsukishima scoffs, rolling his eyes at the ludicrous idea.

"well, i met her first and i invited her back here." koganegawa punctates each 'i' with a theatrical point to himself. "so she's mine."

"then why was she hitting on me?" tsukishima replies triumphantly, and koganegawa has to resist to the urge to smack that smug smirk right off his face.

"she hit on you?" kanji repeated it with wide eyes, as though it was the most egregious thing he has ever heard, "in your dreams maybe. just leave us the fuck alone, kei. you've never tried to steal a girl from me before so i don't know why you chose tonight to start being an asshole."

while their argument raged on in the hallway, you were blissfully unaware.

entering the room confirmed all the suspicions you had, as it appeared to be a lounge of sorts, filled with the band's intruments, speakers and other equitment. next to the doorway there is a small overflowing trash can that you dispose of your cigarette into. there was also a long black leather couch against the wall, that looked like it had seen the worst of two world worlds, and possibly a third: it had gaping holes in the leather, mishapen cushions and peculiar stains.

but there isn't many options for places to sit, so you plop yourself down in the middle, with your arms glued to your side as you patiently wait for koganegawa or tsukishima to join.

kyoutani was also in the room, he must have slipped in as soon as he unlocked the door. the floor of the lounge was quite busy with bags and jackets and hoodies, which he kicked and threw around, sifting through the piles in desperate search for something, muttering profanities under his breath whenever he'd almost trip over one of the items he tossed onto the ground.

it didn't take a genius to figure out from his conduct — and the fact koganegawa referred to him as 'mad dog' — that kyoutani was the brute of the band, and therefore was probably a bit of a hot-head.

despite knowing this, you still go out of your way to involve yourself in his dilemma, taking extra care to be very sensitive in your delivery, in fear of pissing him off. "did you lose something?"

"shut the fuck u—" just as he is about to curse you out from frustration, his focus snaps off the piles of jackets he was rummaging through and lands on your figure on the couch. as soon as he caught a glimpse of you, his attitude instantly switched.

typically he hates groupies in the band lounge, but he can make an exception for you just this once, under certain conditions.

he freezes in his tracks, and inquires skeptically, "who're you?"

"oh, a fan, i guess." you stammer, having to hastily come up with a way to describe your situation without divulging too much embarrassing information. "koganegawa invited me back here. i didn't sneak in or anything." you joke, awkwardly laughing to yourself, but kyoutani doesn't.

he remains deadpan as he slowly sidesteps towards you, "a fan?"

you nod enthusiastically, possibly too overzealous to be convincing, but you didn't want him to doubt your admiration for even a second. "yup, huge fan. i especially liked your drumming, it was amazing."

unaffected by your flattery, he sits beside you, piercing stare lethally fixed to you the entire time, during every movement. "uhuh." he murmurs with his tongue pressed to his cheek.

he's opted to sit really close to you. like really close. you were unsure if he was sober because nobody with uninhibited cognitive function would choose to be so uncomfortably intimate with a stranger. his leg was pressed up on yours, and he was relaxed on the back of the couch while you sat straight, meaning his buff arm was positioned right behind you.

you made sure to hold eye-contact, which is how you noticed he was wearing smudged black eyeliner. to combat the charged silence, you comment, "i like your eyel—"

"nice tits." he states in a strangely blunt tone. it takes you a moment to process that it's even a compliment considering there is not a hint of lechery in his inflection.

"oh, thank y—"

evidently too impatient to let you finish a single sentence, and determined to hasten the pace of the coversation, kyoutani interupts you again to ask, "you down?"

kyoutani wasn't as experienced at hooking up with groupies as koganegawa, which is why he hasn't mastered his 'sweet-talk'. albeit, the straight-forward approach has yet to fail him, but that could be due to his band, muscles or frightening death stare. or all of the above.

"like," your eyes widen, perplexed by his sudden inquiry, "sex? here?"

he nods firmly.

there was hardly any sexual tension lingering between the two of you — at least not in the way it was during your interactions with koganegawa or tsukishima — but admittedly, you had a gander at his body slumped on the couch: his toned abs curving with his posture, and his delicious biceps that flex when he lifts his arm. and with that in mind, you were willing to overlook the lack of sexual chemistry in favour of the physical attraction.

plus, just thinking about how rough he'd be got you so hot.

"uhm, i guess so." you stutter, and you needn't say more.

a brief smile flashes across his features, which is soon lost as his lips lock with yours, his big hands immediately seizing the oppertunity to roughly explore your body and press it against his. engaging you in a deep yet fleeting kiss, leaving you aching for more when as he gets up from the couch to march over to the door and close it.

just as he is about to do so, koganegawa — still in a heated contention with tsukishima — notices out of the corner of his eye and slams his fist down against the door, preventing kyoutani from shutting it. "what are you doing?" he yells, with some misdirected fury in his voice.

fortunately, kyoutani is more focussed on returning to you, so he ignores koganegawa's attitude and replies bluntly, "you know what i'm doing, so get lost. both of you." he goes to close the door again, but this time tsukishima holds it open too.

"what is wrong with both of you?" koganegawa shouts, exasperated, "i invited her backstage; the two of you need to leave."

"not happening." kyoutani snarls, then tries to slam the door closed again, despite the resistance, "fuck off!"

the shouting finally made you aware of the altercation going on by the entrance, which was likely also the cause of neither koganegawa or tsukishima joining you. hence, you call out, "is everything okay?"

upon hearing your voice, kyoutani instinctually turns around to look at you and lets his guard down for a moment, but still long enough for koganegawa to seize the oppertunity to shove past him and dash in front of you, while tsukishima and kyoutani quickly follow suit.

"(y/n), sorry for the hold up. these two won't leave us alone!" koganegawa explains while laughing awkwardly, motioning to his bandmates who both wear matching scowls. "but i'm here now, so."

"i think (y/n) has changed her mind about that, isn't that right?" tsukishima rebuttles, as they all suddenly turn to stare at you expectantly.

your blood runs cold at the sudden shift of attention and now being the focal point of the discussion — in addition to how they were all waiting in baited silence for you to make a decision. you gulp, avoiding eye-contact and all costs and somehow croaking out, "uh, i'm not sure what you want me to say."

"we're just asking—"

"we want to know—"

both koganegawa and tsukishima begin to explain the situation simultaneously, talking over each other to the point neither of them were intelligble as their voices drowned one another out. their squabbling only made you even more nervous and confused. that is, until kyoutani speaks up, louder than both of them and asks,

"who're you gonna fuck?"

you're able to hear that perfectly clear, and so are koganegawa and tsukishima as they fade to mute.

the straight-forward question — although, concise — still leaves you with a lot to consider. not wanting to hurt any of their feelings, you choose the diplomatic route and try to formulate a response you think would appease them all, "each one of you is so sweet in your own ways. i don't think i could choose, sorry." you stuttered, pressing your legs together.

while kyoutani and tsukishima grumbled and griped about 'wasting their time' and 'getting their hopes up', a sly smirk spread across koganegawa's lips; one that they only noticed when he started tittering to himself.

although tsukishima immediately understood, kyoutani remained in a state of bafflement as he watched his bandmates cast each other knowing looks. after demanding answers, koganegawa finally pat his shoulder and whispered, "four way."

kyoutani hated the idea of fucking a girl at the same time as other guys, and that was evident by the disgust plastered over his face. however, it had been solidified that the only way he was going to get with you tonight is if he was willing to make some compromises, so he begrudgingly decided to pick up a bottle of vodka from the cooler and tough it out. as soon as the bitter substance hit his tongue, the situation was already starting to sound doable.

tsukishima always thought of himself as too good to ever share the girls he's into, but he was confronted with a harsh reality check. one that dictates he'll have to settle with certain conditions. once kyoutani has taken a gulp of the drink, he snatches it out of his hand and takes a swig.

[N$FW]

on the other hand, koganegawa couldn't be more pleased. it was likely linked to the fact that so far tonight he has had more to drink than either of him, but he's more focussed on finally getting to fuck you after all the effort he's gone through. as shown by his speed in dropping down onto the couch next to you, swiftly wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to facillitate a deep kiss.

while his hands wander suggestively over your body — grabbing and groping at whatever parts he desires — kyoutani and tsukishima watch in horror, then hastily join as to not let him have you all to himself.

kyoutani plops down on your other side, using his strong arms to aggressively yank you onto his lap. your lips were still locked with koganegawa's, with your arms still drapes over his shoudlers, so the only response you give to kyoutani's action is a muffled yelp. but this surprisingly does seem to bother him, since he is more involved with other priorities. such as unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other delves between your thighs, wandering under your dress and grazing the damp fabric of your panties with the tips of two fingers.

tsukishima clicks his tongue at the obscene sight, grimacing with repulsion but somehow unable to pry his eyes away. "this is gross.." he grumbles to himself, but the rest of you are too occupied to even aknowledge his comment. with a curbed sigh, he takes another gulp of vodka — straight from the bottle — before reluctantly approaching the situation.

although he is lost as to where he is supposed to fit himself in, since you're currently engaging in a passionate kiss with koganegawa and greedily fondling your ass and pussy in his lap. however, you are considerate enough to notice his aimless figure out of the corner of your eyes, so you hastily pull free from the kiss to face tsukishima instead. surprisingly, koganegawa doesn't seem to mind, and shifts his focus to peppering kisses across your collarbone and neck, occassionally sucking a hickey into your soft skin, while kneading your tits in one of his hands.

your attention fell on tsukishima, who stood tall and loomed over you, hooded yet intimidating eyes gazing down. this proved as an obstacle as he was far too high up for you to kiss, since kyoutani had you secured on his lap by his muscled arms, and tsukishima didn't seem interested in kneeling to meet your height. however, this wasn't an issue for him, as it mean your head was at the perfect height to attend to the erection growing in his pants. you glance up at him innocently, and he reciprocates with a sly smirk, as he hands work to unzip his fly and free his cock.

while tsukishima did that, you sat and whimpered quietly as koganegawa diligently marked your neck with hickeys, leaning into his warm touch. as well as kyoutani tugging your panties aside to rub at your sensitive folds, relishing in your wetness and how you subconsciously tensed your thighs around his veiny forearms. so sweet. only made him more eager to hike up the skirt of your dress to reveal your whole ass for him. his hands move from your cunt up to your waist, utilising his grip to hold you over his lap, and you yelp as he suddenly pushes you off him.

he uses his other hand to align his cock with your juicy entrance, then wastes no time in letting go of your body, allowing you to sink down on his length, savouring the satisfying stretch of your snug pussy as it consumed him. "shit.. you're tight, bitch."

a guttural groan was drawn out of your throat at the unexpected intrusion, and though his girth was a difficult to take at first, the painful quickly dissolved into warm pleasure, reflected by your walls fluttering around him and your eyes rolling back in your head.

naturally, your mouth fell agape in reaction to his thick cock being shoved inside you, and tsukishima found that to be the perfect oppertunity to grab a fistful of your hair and guide it down to his newly freed cock, graciously accepting the whole length into your mouth. although this keen maneuver was also abrupt, instead of gagging or coughing, you were able to quickly accomodate it and gracefully glide your tongue down the underside of his shaft, stimulating the base — that your lips weren't quite able to reach — elicting a stifled groan in reaction. he can't help but chuckle to himself a bit; perhaps it was just how inbreiated he was, buut he was amused at how much he was enjoying this, choking you on his cock in front of his bandmates. his hands travels from your hair down to the side of your face, gently pushing your hair out of your face with his thumb, gazing down at you with a desirous glint in his eye, "you're good at that." he rasps. though you could barely hear him over the lewd slapping noises of kyoutani roughly bouncing you on his cock, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs.

after you were hunched over by tsukishima, that made it tricky for koganegawa to continue kissing your shoulders and neck, so he trailed pecks down your spine, all the way to your lower back. that is when he took notice of your exposed ass, courtesy of kyoutani pulling your slimfit dress up. he smirked, and with not much else to entertain him, he licks his index finger and it ventures towards your uninhabited hole, while the other hands keeps your cheeks apart.

it was almost challenging due to the pace at which kyoutani was moving you up and down and up and down, but koganegawa was determined to give your insides a feel. and kyoutani, though mostly engrossed in the bliss your homey pussy was providing him, didn't mind watching it happen. you could feel koganegawa playing with your ass yet it made it you gasp when his wet fingers delved into your hole. "you like that, doll?" he snickered, squirming his finger around.

your gasp disturbed your ryhtmn around tsukishima's cock, causing you to have to jerk away to cough and splutter. tsukishima stared down at you impatiently as you did so, burning holes into the top of your head, meanwhile kyoutani quite enjoyed your coughing fit — specifically how you're cunt clenched him each time. "fuck, that's good." he grunts.

once you were finished, you were swiftly guided back to tsukki's dick, encouraging you to reestablish your previous speed. "keep going. you're not done til i cum in that whore mouth." he states sternly, his mean tone laced with teasing. you quickly get to work, eagerly sucking his cock at a furious pace, to the point where drool was beginning to spill from the corner of your mouth, which tsukishima carefully wiped away with his thumb.

"hey, don't talk to her that, kei." koganegawa slurs from behind you, and even though you couldn't see his shit-eating grin, you could tell by his inflection that he was joking. and if that wasn't already clear, it was further demonstrated as he begins thrusting his fingers in and out of your puckered hole. "whores usually aren't this tight."

a smile ghosts over tsukishima's lips at koganegawa's reply, however he was mostly amused by the fervent way you devoured his cock — like you were starving. it was too good; worth sharing for. the only downside was that he was getting dangerously close to a climax already, but he didn't want to be the first one to finish.

thankfully, soon enough, kyoutani's guttural grunts were increasing in volume and it was becoming evident to everyone that he was close, and that notion was solidified by his prolonged groan, "shit.. gunna fill this bitch up.."

koganegawa either took pity on you or maybe just wanted to be the first one to cum inside you, but whatever the reason, he used his leverage on your ass to push you upwards just as kyoutani was ready to bust. thus, instead of spilling inside your spongy walls like he intended, kyoutani came while your hole was hovering above his tips, and thick spurts of cum leaked all over his own lap.

"fuck!" he exclaimed from both disgust and orgasmic bliss, glaring daggers at koganegawa. if it wasn't for the fact he was flushed and recovering from the best orgasm he's had in months, kyoutani would've attacked koganegawa in a heartbeat for making such a mess. but currently, he was so fucked out and hazed he couldn't bring himself to lift a finger. plus, he currently had more pressing priorities.

while kyoutani stripped himself of his soiled jeans, tsukishima had lost himself in the hedonistic euphoria brought to him by your expert mouth. and now that the friction in your pussy wasn't sending numbingly delicious waves of pleasure wracking through your body, you could focus all your energy on bringing tsukishima over the final hurdle.

which you did, rapidly. there wasn't much time between kyoutani's orgasm and tsukishima being sent hurtling to his climax. your lips dragged frantically back and forth on his length, while your hand stimulated the parts your mouth wasn't able to fit. but in a frenzied rush, you abandon the handjob all together and start deep-throating his whole fucking cock.

you only manage to do this three times before he cums.

his hand tangles itself in your hair which allows him to fuck your mouth throughout the duration of his high, letting his hot seed ooze down your throat. "just like that. drink it up, princess." he heaves, not usually one to dirty talk but his lust blurred mind drove him to utter the first coherent thoughts that occured to him.

"yeah, princess." koganegawa tittered to himself, yanking his finger out of your hole with a lewd pop. if tsukishima's uncharacteristically pornographic grunts weren't enough to motivate you, the brutal spank koganegawa planted on your ass certainly was. followed by an even harsher one, that made your whole body shake, courtesy of kyoutani.

despite your bruised and sore throat, you were somehow able to slurp down every last drop of his salty cum, all while gazing up at him with watery eyes. watching as his face glazed over in pleasure, his heavy breaths steaming up his rectangular glasses that sunk to tip of his tongue. he was so hot; it made all the effort you put into pleasing him infinitely worth it.

and he thought the same of you, when he was able to catch a glimpse of you through his hazy vision and foggy glasses. the way your cute nose scrunched up at the taste, and your lips parted into a pretty 'o' around his girth, and how your cheeks puffed out cutely. it all contributed to his euphoric orgasm. he was on cloud nine and never wanted to the moment to end, hence he tried to stretch it out for as long as he could, keeping your head held close to his base until your mouth had milked his cock for all he had.

after his high had definitively concluded, he finally relaxed his grip on your hair, therefore you are able to slip away, gasping for air and filling your sinuses with fresh air for the first time in what felt like ages. "damn.." you mutter to yourself, already somewhat missing the saturated sensation of his dick in your mouth.

he cupped your chin in his hands and tilts your head up to meet his piercing stare, squishing your tear-stained cheeks in the process. "tired?"

you silently shake your head, not breaking eye-contact.

tsukishima opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by koganegawa saying in a whiny tone, "good! 'cause i've not had a turn yet." tsukki watches with narrowed eyes as kanji grabs your thighs and pulls you off kyoutani's lap. he shuffles onto his knees and positions you so you are bent over in front of him, with your pussy aligned with his hips, while your cheek is pressed against kyoutani's muscular — and bare — thigh. conveniently facing his stiff cock.

"look at this pretty fuckin' pussy." koganegawa still had his jeans on and would playfully thrust his clothed erection against your sopping cunt, and the friction from that alone was enough to make him whimper under his breathe. despite the addicting sensation, the sight of your glistening pussy — still slick and dripping with arousal — completely hypnotised him. it had him gripping at your thighs in order to lift you up, until your cunt aligned with his mouth and he could lick a long stripe between your folds, revelling in the taste.

not anticipating that variety of stimulation at all, a small gasp exits you at the abruptness of both the touch and being lifted up. however, kyoutani is quick to shut you up by aggressively stuffing his firm cock into your mouth. his wasn't as long as tsukki's so you didn't instantly choke in it, however it was far thicker, leaving your mouth far more full. there was barely any space for your tongue to move around.

similar to before, kyoutani grabbed your hair and used to make you suck at the speed of his choosing. though, unlike tsukishima, kyoutani left you with no autonomy, steering you entirely to his pleasing and forcing you to blow him at an unreal pace. your head bobbed up and down furiously on his dick, presumably bruising your lips each time you were slammed onto his pace. not that you minded, you frankly quite enjoyed him using your face as his own personally fleshlight. at least in exchange for all the deliriously horny praise he spluttered for you, "go on, take it, bitch. in that sexy mouth. like a fuckin' whore."

meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to stifle your moans as koganegawa went to town between your thighs. licking and lapping up your juices as though he was starving. using his thumbs to spread your folds apart so he could access every last inch of your soaked pussy, sucking and nibbling on every part he could. drawling incoherently against your lips, "mmph, fuck you taste sweet. and yer so wet, doll." he whined almost tearfully, "shit— what've we been missing out on?"

eventually he had to pull away to catch his breathe and shakily wipe your slick off his chin and cheeks with the back of his hand. even as he did so, he glanced to the side at tsukishima — who was idly tracing his finger up your spine — and kanji grabbed ahold of your ass and angled it to the side, panting, "kei, try it."

tsukishima blinked, taking a moment to process the offer. a muted part of him was aware of how regretful he would be in the morning, but that still didn't stop his legs from moving on their own, hesitantly sitting down right next to koganegawa, so his face was only inches away from your hole.

kanji's pointed pupils were locked to tsukishima the entire time; watching carefully as the taller blonde slowly leans in to your pussy, until his lips connect with your folds. his pace is face more leisurely than koganegawa's, taking his time in stimulating his clit with your tongue and massaging your labia with mouth. suckling and kissing on your pussy as though he was making out with an adoring lover. his eyelids fluttered shut as he got lost between your legs, much to the amusement of his observing bandmate, "good, ain't it?" kanji snickers.

tsukki replies with an incomprehensibly muffled groan, which vibrated against your swollen clit. glassing fogging up again from the close contact.

all while kyoutani was still fucking your mouth to his heart's content. despite how rough he was, you were eventually able to somewhat relax your throat around his cock, and welcome it into your mouth with relative ease. due to this, and perhaps his enhanced sensitivity from his recent orgasm, it was long until he had you pushed down to the base of his cock as he released into you, making you drink up his tangy seed while he melted back into the couch and grumble, "that mouth.. nmph—"

once he thinks you've sufficently taken his cum, he suddenly yanks you off his cock by your hair and lets you rest your head against his strong things, while he stares at the ceiling, chest inflating and deflating as experiences a post-orgasmic haze. idly, he strokes your head, dragging his thumb across your temple in a benign manner.

as tsukishima is still lapping atyour cunt, kanji quirks a brow daringly and remarks, "bet you can't make squirt."

the strange assertion causes tsukishima to falter and his eyes to shoot open. furrowing his brows together, he unhurriedly retracts his lips from your folds and replies in a shallow voice, "what?"

"you ever made a girl squirt before, kei?" kanji asks with a cheeky smile.

just as he opens his mouth to respond, kyoutani interrupts, "obviously he hasn't."

kanji laughs, and tsukishima retorts, "of course i have."

"go ahead n' do it then, big boy." koganegawa chuckles and expects the mad dog to do so as well, but the other too just cringe.

"don't call me that, freak." tsukishima spits. but without requiring further instruction, he takes on the bet and immediately his lips crash against your needy cunt, with the goal of ultimately making you squirt. his work is unrushed and precise as it was before, but this time around his tongue ventures into your hole, squirming around and investigating every section of your gummy walls. simultaneously capturing your folds between his lips and sucking them dry.

his actions cast waves of heat cascading through your body, evidenced by your wanton moans into kyoutani's lap and your trembling figure as you approached your first orgasm. in stark contrast with the cold surface of his glasses grazing your molten core whenever he got too close. even though he was coming down from his own high, kyoutani still gave a slight attempt to reassure you by tenderly patting between your shoulder. whereas koganegawa took a more direct approach, steering you to your climax by shoving his finger into your sore asshole again and then following it up with a smack on your cheek, "you ready to cum, doll? be loud so we can hear ya, yeah?"

and just like that, aided by tsukishima tongue-deep in your tight cunt, eating you out so expertly, and finding delicious spots inside you that you didn't even know you had, you soon came undone against his face. your back arched and you were guided through your climax by tsukishima continuing to eat you out for the duration, and koganegawa kindly stroking your ass, "perfect, baby. let it all out. don't be shy, kanji's got ya."

"hgnh, fuck, t—too much!" you exclaim.

your breaths staggered out and you were left defeated and tired against kyoutani's lap. your legs were numb so you were unsure how they had the strength to keep your ass in the air, but somehow you said frozen in place. tsukishima hesitantly removed himself from between your legs, and he didn't even need to say anything before he was pushed aside and off the couch by koganegawa, "that was a good effort, kei. i'll give you that." he delcared smugly, referencing the fact that — although you came — you didn't squirt. "pay close attention. i'll show you how to really please a woman."

tsukishima didn't even entertain his ludicrious bragging with a response, instead he just scoffed and rolled his eyes, slumping down on the floor with his back against the coffee table, so he was facing the couch. he reached over and grabbed the nearby bottle of vodka and took a swig: he was going to watch alright, but for his own enjoyment, not because koganegawa told him to. "there is nothing you could teach me that i don't already know, moron."

"we'll see about that." kanji titters. he shifts himself so he is sitting on his knees, and aligns his newly exposed cock with your hole. the bulbous head of his dick prods at your slit, enlarged from how long he went without any personal attendance gathering your slick with his tip, he basks in the gooey sensation before ramming himself straight into your slobbering hole.

he pounded into you wildly and repeatedly, very euthusiatic and able to maintain a consistently hard and fast pace; the direct results of holding in his lust for so long. each time his hips connected with yours, a filthy slapping noise rung throughout the room from his balls colliding with your soaked clit. when his eyes weren't threatening to roll back into his neck from the sheer and overwhelming pleasure your tight cunt was bringing him, they were glued to your ass, admiring its subtle bounce each time he thrust into you.

"hah- knew you'd be tight, baby, but— shit, this 's crazy." his eyes screwed shut, burning tears glossing his lashline, as he audibly struggles to cope with the way your cunt clings to him. "best— hnngh, best pussy i've ever fuckin' had. where've you been hah— hiding, angel?" despite this, he hammers into your pussy with ease, but he worries he might finish in you sooner than anticipated. and you can feel this by the way his dick throbs within you, since he's so big you can sense every little pulse of his veins and ever-so-slight leaking of precum from his engorged tip.

"gunna pump you full of my load, yeah.. you like that shit, right? being kanji's sweet little cumdump, huh?" he rambles on, meanwhile you are too fucked out to even think of a response.

not wanting to be selfish and cum before you, he places a hand on your labia and frantically palms at your clit, coaxing you to an orgasm with his honeyed words, "c'mon, princess. ngh— almost there; be a good girl 'n cum for me. make this— nggh— this tight pussy squirt, i know you can do it."

the whole couch rocks with the fierce rate at which he ploughs into you, and with the way your loving cunt chews down on his cock, it's not long before he spills inside you. lazily grinding with his head tossed back, punctuating each wet thrust with a hushed curse.

"there. we. fucking. go. just like that, angel; milk daddy's cock dry.. you know, hah— you need it." his hot cum flooding through your insides and greasing your tender walls was enough to send you hurtling over the edge too. biting down on kyoutani's skin in a feeble attempt to muffle the shriek-like moan you were on the verge of letting out, elicited by the colossal fire that was literally spreading through you, lining your pussy walls and rudely intruding into your womb.

laboured breaths staggered out from koganegawa, as he slipped his cock out of your slippery pussy, once your orgasmic grip has alleviated. "such a sweet girl but you take dick like a whore, y'know." he muses, caresses your perky ass, paying close attention to how your hole twitched around nothing. "you were pretty when you came too. shame you didn't squirt though."

"cos neither of you could make a bitch squirt if you tried." kyoutani scoffs, picking you up in his usual rough manner and manhandling you away from koganegawa so you were draped over his lap, with your stomach against his thighs and your ass perfectly within reach. "i'll try."

"mad dog, leave her alone. i think she's had enough." koganegawa suggests upon observing your frail and weak figure, barely able to resist kyoutani's harsh grasp.

kyoutani grips your chin and whips your head around to meet his vicious stare. "you done?" with one brow raised, he rasps, "or do you wanna cum on a real man, slut?"

you innocently blink at him. with the majority of your brain fried, you were left to think with only your pussy, which is why you ended up nodding mutedly, despite the aching mess already pooling between your legs.

"good." he mutters. wasting no time, he plunges two fingers into your drooling hole. slicing through the amalgamation of fluids coating your walls, he fiercely thrusts into you, tips of his fingers poking at your gummy walls each time until he found your sweet spot. and once he did, oh he abused it. slamming into it over and over; a faintly satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you cry out for him in a flurry of hedonistic desperation.

"ngh— so, so fast. don't st— stahh— op, please.."

"see. enjoy it, whore. no other guy is ever goin' to fuck you this good." he whispers into your ear through gritted teeth, his hot breath searing your skin. "n' maybe if you squirt for me i'll do this for you again. how's that sound?"

"mhm.." you whine meekly, enraputred by the violent fingering between your shaking legs.

his buff arm was cradling your ass in order to lift you off his knees slightly so he could access your cunt from a better vantage point, which assisted him in reaching the vulnerable sports inside you that he had discovered. the parts that had your toes curling in your heels and your back arching erotically into him.

then, amidst the feverish thrusts, without warning, a staggered scream erupted from your throat and crytalline fluid came flooding out of your pussy. your eyes screwed together and all you were able to do was tense up and moan as your body went through the motions. your cunt clamped down around his fingers while gushing around them, causing kyoutani to groan a little, as he wanted to finger you through your high but he didn't have the strength left to prevail against your iron grip.

the overstimulation had resulted in this being your most powerful climax yet, so it lasted a while. with squirt pouring out of you and your whole body shuddering for what felt like ages. albeit it was a delightful sight for the three boys who surrounded you.

once you settled down and the overpowering pleasure pulsing through you eventually faded out, kyoutani was finally able to remove his fingers from you, with a vile squelching noise. your cunt cherished the empty sensation, finally free of any conjestion for the first time in what felt like hours. kyoutani idly palmed your pussy, slowly rubbing your labia and mixing all the different liquids that pooled by your creamy hole. "it's that easy." he says with hooded-eyes, to his bandmates who simply gape back at him, astounded.

"i— didn't think you even knew how to finger." kanji stuttered.

"yeah. you don't seem like the type, kyoutani." tsukishima adds.

"obviously i know how!" kyoutani barks angrily, prevented from lunging forward at them by your body sprawled over his lap, "i just don't do it often."

"oh, so you're just lazy?" tsukishima snickers at his own quip, and so does koganegawa.

but to their surprise, instead of getting defensive, kyoutani just replies nonchalantly, "yeah." he shrugs, "can't be bothered."

when he realises that your still on his lap, and he's caressing your ass in an oddly fond fashion, he is quick to push you away, throwing you back against the couch next to him with ease. "get off me." he snips, wearing a mean scowl as he crosses his arms over his chest bed-temperedly.

while you are laying dejected on the couch, koganegawa climbs to his feet and lurches over to you, then dizzily plops down beside you. very close, looking over so his lips are basically grazing your neck, "how're you feeling, princess?" he coos, gazing at your fucked-out figure with stars in his eyes.

"leave her alone, kanji." tsukishima slurs, shaking his head disapprovingly at his bandmate's actions.

"yeah, let the bitch rest."

"i'm just checking on her!" he whines back at the pair, then turns to you, "so, as i was saying: you okay, angel?"

"tired.. but yeah." you mumble.

"good. i was a bit scared we might've broke ya." he laughs to himself, still captivated by you, despite your unresponsiveness, "so, are you free next friday? that's when we're booked to do another show here." he explains, then abruptly leans in to whisper right in your ear, "then you can get some one-on-one time with your favourite singer, huh?"

"stop that." tsukishima immediately chimes in. "first you barely made her cum and now you're threatening her with more sex."

"sex with me isn't a threat; it's a blessing." koganegawa retorts, running his hands through his hair as though that was going to affirm his point, but really all it did was make tsukishima vomit in his mouth a little.

"keep telling yourself that."

"big talk from you, four-eyes. not like you made her squirt either." mad dog chuckles smugly. it was strange how they talked about you like you weren't in the room with them. perhaps they thought you had fallen asleep because your eyes were closed. or maybe — and more likely — they just didn't give a fuck.

tsukishima rolls his eyes, "you only got her to squirt because kanji and i had already tried, so she was on her third round. you would've never been able to do it if you had gone first."

koganegawa nods firmly in agreement, far to drunk to begin to comprehend what tsukishima meant but it sounded in opposition to kyoutani, so he agreed. "yeah, that's like basic biology."

"i could've!" kyoutani argues.

then, an idea occurs to koganegawa, which he expresses while tenderly fondling your thigh, "you'll have to prove it. why don't we schedule a rematch for next friday. how does that sound, doll?"

[bluem1lls]

hiii!! are u gonna write a part two for that one se mi x guard reader angst? )(⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~(⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~

✧₊⁺ what am i supposed to do without you?

✦ synopsis: you don't leave her mind, not after everything you two went through. so when she finally sees you again in a date with someone else, she knows it's time to talk.

tw: minors dni, jealous se-mi, fluff, smut, fingering/oral (r!receiving), a bit of angst

authors note: hiiii, sooo after the poll, this one won!!! so finally, part 2 of guard!reader x se-mi. also im sorry for the lack of update, im super busy with work and also a bit blocked, but tysm for all the requests! i hope u like it!💓

⋆｡°✩ "fuck" my head hits the wall as he pushes me.

"i did warn you, didn't i?" he said as i nodded weakly. "and what did you do? you helped a player. not only helped her, you saved her."

"it won't" i tried to regain my breathing. "it won't happen again"

"you got attached!"

"i'm sorry." i whisper to my uncle as he turns around. i know he's mad.

"if he finds out he'll kill you."

"he probably saw the cameras already" i say to him as my uncle frozens in place.

"you didn't know? you didn't... see him?" he asks as i stared confused. "he's out there. playing"

my eyebrows raise in surprise. "playing?" a shiver runs through my spine to even imagine what he would do to se-mi to survive his own game.

"listen to me." he speaks to me in a serious manner as i bit my lip. "i'm gonna delete the footage and you're gonna leave this fucking place and you won't look back"

"w-what? but.. mom and.. dad-"

"i don't want you here ever again. they'll understand" he says as he presses the button, erasing the videos as i bit my lip hard enough. i'm probably drawing blood.

"are they.. releasing her?" i ask as he turns around. he stays still, letting out a sharp breath. "tomorrow. they voted and they chose to stop playing"

a sigh of relief leaves my body as i turn around, putting on my mask.

"t-thank you" i whisper as he gives me a head nod. i know damn well how he is. and i also know he's doing this for me, and it's not easy. he places his black mask on, matching with his black suit as he sits down on his couch. staring once more at the cameras.

⋆｡°✩ i sigh as i get home. i softly pet my kitten after picking it up from my mom's.

i sat on the couch, exhausted. my head hurts, i miss se-mi and i feel miserable. i thought i was doing the right thing, but now i lost my job and i lost my.. friend? my girlfriend?

my head on my hands as i try to not cry.

⋆｡°✩ it's been two months.

i know she's okay, i made sure of that. but she hasn't texted, called or even came to see me.

and she seems to be okay without me (yes, i stalk her instagram), but i'm not, and that's exactly why i let this happened.

"sam.. no. i'm not ready.." i stare at her.

"look at her! she's a cutie! it's only one date. i know you two will get along great and if you hate her then i swear i'll leave you alone but please. i'm your best friend and i hate seeing you like this, maybe if you try to move on.. it'd be for the best" she begged me as i sighed.

"just one." i say resigned as she shouts in excitment.

and now i'm regretting that, because sam keeps talking about this girl while all i can think about is her.

⋆｡°✩ "where did you said you worked at?" she says as i sip my gin tonic, almost choking on it.

"uh.. next question" i reply with an awkward smile as she chuckles.

"you're so cute" she gives me a smirk. "sam said you were really pretty and.. she wasn't wrong" she says, softly caressing my face, her gaze roaming all over my features.

i stare at her nervously giving her a soft smile. she pulls away, turning around to order more beer for her as i cross my legs and let my eyes wander around the place to distract myself.

it's a pub, and although it's dark i can see the purple details it has. the bar fully equipped with all the finest alcohol, se-mi sitting on one of the stalls of the bar.

my eyes widen.

what?

my stare focused on her as i feel the air being knocked out of my lungs. she catches me staring, her cold gaze lingers on mine. i can see her surprised expression, quickly turning into a cold one as her eyes go to my date. she takes a sip from her beer, her eyes never leaving mine. i can feel the girl besides me talking but i honestly, i can't even pay attention.

"so was it good?" she asks, snapping me from my thoughts as my gaze leaves se-mi for a second to focus on her.

"huh?"

"the drink.. was it good?" she says as i give her a very forced smile while i nod.

"so good. hey, would you mind bringing my coat from the hanger?" i smile at her as she nods. she quickly gets up to get it as i stare at the ceiling.

what do i do? i leave? do i run to the bathroom to hide? should i talk to her? i keep going like nothing happened?

as i remove my stare from the ceiling, i see her standing up in front of me, making me let out a shaky breath.

guess she decided for me.

she stares at me up and down, her eyes roaming my body. she extends me a drink with her right hand while her left is holding hers.

"gin tonic for you.. like always" se-mi says as i slowly take it. her fingers caressing mine for a second, making me shiver. "you look.. so beautiful"

"don't do this.. please" i beg her in whispers. she drinks her beer while her gaze stares at me intensely.

"i just want to talk to you." her eyes flash with.. guilt? as she speaks.

i stare at her in disbelief with wide eyes. "no? i'm on a date!"

she scoffs. "please, you kicked her out. i know you that much" she says in a low, hard tone. "we really need to talk. please"

my eyes roamed her face, i bit my lip thinking about it for a second as i get up, grabbing my purse as i let her guide me to the way out.

i stop where the hanger is as i see the girl with my stuff turned around. i touch her shoulder as she turns at me with a smile. "hey, i'm so sorry but something came up and i need to leave. you're.. amazing, and incredibly sweet" i speak as her expression falls.

"oh.. do you want me to come-"

"no. b-but thank you" i say to her quickly as i can see her defeated stare. i grab my coat, walking to find se-mi at the door. we get into her car in a weird tense silence until we get to my place.

i leave my stuff on the couch as i turn to stare at her, her hands on her pockets as she bites her lip piercing.

"why.. were you with her?" she breaks the silence as i stare at her in disbelief. is she actually asking me that like a jealous girlfriend?

"why? oh i'm sorry. i didn't realized that after you broke my heart i had to ask for your permission" i dry chuckle as she scoffs, annoyed, but her eyes are filled with guilt and remorse as she stares at me.

"i'm sorry. i.. i know why you did what you did. and maybe i didn't understood at first, and it took me a while.."

"you never called back. you never texted, you never came to see me, you didn't cared to know how i was-"

"i couldn't talk to you! not after... the games. i asked sam about you every single day. i begged her to not tell you anything, but god, there hasn't been a day in where you left my mind" she says, frustrated. her jaw clenches as i stare wide eyed. fucking sam.

i sigh as i lean myself against the wall. my hands cover my face. "what was i supposed to do? i thought you ghosted me. i thought you hated me se-mi. so i tried.. to just.. move on" i say as i bite the inside of my cheek with anxiety. her cold gaze stays on me as she takes a step closer.

her eyes burning with jealousy, darkening as her stare roamed through my body. "did it worked?"

my chest tightens as i slowly shook my head no. she closes the distance betweens us, trapping me against the wall as i let out a small gasp, feeling her hands on my waist. the cold silver rings making me shiver.

she speaks in a low hiss. "it didn't? you know why it didn't worked?" one of her hands leaves my waist, her fingers softly lifting my chin. "because you never stopped being mine" she says as my heart thumps on my chest. our breathings getting a little more ragged.

"why are you doing this? after two months se-mi... it's been two months." my eyes fill with tears as she caress my face with her hand.

her lips twitch a little as she hears my weak reply. "let me make it up to you"

her hands lowers to my neck as she closes the distance between us. our lips smashing together as we both let out a small moan. my hands roamed through her body desesperately until i wrap my arms around her neck as her other hand lowers to grip my hips.

my body melts into her touch, the kiss becoming hard and desesperate, expressing the way we missed eachother. our pent up anger and frustration explodes as our bodies pressed together.

"i love you so much" i whisper in a shaky breath in between kisses, her arms tighten around me as she keeps the kisses going.

"i love you so much too" she replies, her lips never leaving mine as she lifts me up, her hands on my thighs as she carries me to my room. she softly positions me in bed. i lay as she gets on top of me. i kiss her hungrily as she moans. she breaks the kiss to lower herself, her face meeting my center as she lifts my skirt. her tongue licks over my panties, spreading the wet patch as i whimper. my hands grip her hair as she moves them aside, circling my clit with her tongue.

"missed this so much" she says, giving a kiss on my clit as she teases my entrance.

"please" my head falls back as i beg her. i can feel her smirk as she pushes two fingers inside, going back with her tongue, picking up a faster pace as i moan.

she thrusts deeper and faster as my moans get louder. when she feels me clenching around her fingers, her tongue swirls around my clit. she smirks, pleased to have me trembling under her touch.

"gonna cum please, please, please" i cry out as my fingers pull her hair making her hiss. her lips around my clit as she sucks, making me whimper.

i feel the heat on my lower stomach snap, i clench around her fingers once again as my eyes roll back and i finish with a long and loud moan. she licks me clean until i'm whining, overstimulated.

"oh baby, this is just the first round" she cups my face as i stare, half-lidded.

⋆｡°✩ i stopped missing her, because she stays right by my side. after a few months, she finally asks me to be her girlfriend, which the question feels odd giving the fact that we're almost living together at that point, but i say yes nonetheless (of course).

⋆｡°✩ and when we sleep, she has nightmares all the time. i try to wake her up gently, with soft kisses as i hug her. we end up falling asleep together, always cuddling to feel eachother.

and i have mines too.

i can feel her shaking me slowly as i gasp. "it's okay-"

"i thought i lost you" i murmur, still sleepy but teary.

"you didn't. i'm right here" she says in a cooed whisper. she hugs me tightly, pressing me against her body as i grip her shirt, scared that if i let her go, she'll disappear.

⋆｡°✩ and we try to overcome the trauma of the games, the deaths, and it's hard, but somehow with her by my side, it becomes easier.

⋆｡°✩ and as we spend all our weekeds in bed, i can't help but wonder what would've happened if i was honest from the beggining. but right now she's here, laying in my bed, caressing my hair as i close my eyes and my head rests on her chest..

and i wouldn't have it any other way.

even if i'd had to go through it again and again. i'd do it for her.

[channiesbakery]

tiger plushies —

prompt / request — “oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch.”

pairing — reader + boyfriend!hoshi

word count — 594

genre — fluff, suggestive

author’s note — no bc i have way too many hoshi plushies (honestly just too many plushies in general) 😭

as soon as he arrived back home from tour, soonyoung went straight to your place, not bothering to go to his.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks so the only thing on his mind right now was seeing you.

the minute you open your door, he’s basically on you. his hands cup your cheeks, kissing you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

you can’t help but giggle against the kiss, finally able to pull away when soonyoung needed a breath.

“someone’s eager today,” you tease. “can you blame me? i haven’t seen you in weeks, honey,” he says, a slight whine in his voice as he kisses you again.

you make out on the couch for a bit before you pull away, leaning your forehead against his. “upstairs?” you ask. “upstairs,” he nods, automatically agreeing with you.

soonyoung is ready to push you into your bed when you step in until he sees what’s on your bed.

“babe,” he whines when he takes a look at your bed, seeing his half of it covered with plushies of various sizes.

“what?” you furrow your eyebrows at his whiny tone. “there’s no space for me,” he gives you an exaggerated pout. “i leave for two weeks and you replace me? giving my space away already?” he asks.

“well you were gone, they kept me company,” you tease. “I can’t believe you replaced me with plushies,” he sighs dramatically.

“babe, half of these came from you,” you remind him, watching as he grabs the dolls. “hey what are you doing?” you ask.

“taking back my space,” soonyoung grumbles, moving them to the top of a dresser. “okay fine, but leave tamtam. he’s my favorite,” you say and he just gapes at you.

“i’m right here! and you prefer tamtam?” he gasps and you just laugh at your boyfriend’s over dramatic reactions.

“don’t laugh,” he whines as you open your arms for him to join you on your now empty bed. “sorry baby, will a kiss make it better?” you tease, giving him a quick peck.

“gotta do better than that,” he says before quickly changing your positions, with his back against the headboard while you’re straddling his lap.

soonyoung wastes no time connecting your lips again, his kiss much more needy and hungry compared to your quick peck.

soonyoung breaks the kiss for a second but before you can complain, his lips are back on yours.

but when he breaks the kiss for the third time and you groan. “soonyoung what is it?” you ask, opening your eyes to see him peering over your shoulder to look at your counter.

“I can feel them staring,” he says, referring to the plush animals. “are you– babe, they’re stuffed toys,” you give him a look.

“tamtam is staring,” he says and you just sigh as he got out of bed, turning all the plushies to face the wall.

“can we get back to it now?” you ask as he climbs back into bed with you. “gladly,” he grins.

but it doesn’t last long before he stops kissing you again. “what now?” you groan. “nothing. just forgot to tell you something since i got here,” he says and you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“i love you. even though you replaced me with plushies while i was gone,” he huffs a little at the last part. “i love you too, soonie. but i may just love tamtam more,” you tease.

“okay that’s it. I’m taking tamtam back with me when i leave. i’m supposed to be your favorite tiger!”

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

The Band Played On

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: You'd never met someone who loved the way Joel Miller did.

Warnings: talk of death of a spouse and child, age gap (less than ten years), brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, yEaRnInG, author is very sensitive pls be nice, i was listening to the song of the same name by Guy Lombardo,

A/N: She's back baby! This one has been in the works for over a year (eep), and is basically just a love letter to @mirrormauve and I'm so glad she's back now and I've finally finished it. Becs, I love you with all my heart <3.

I don't own photos, dividers, or characters.

You’d never met someone who loved the way Joel Miller did. 

His severe, violent dedication to it, bits of soul laid down on the ground as offerings to the gods. Cracking open his chest, tearing off each rib and handing it over, not to say here is my heart but to say, here is the thing that protects my heart, it reminds me of you.

You thought this love was only talked about, only dreamt up. 

But then you’d been on a walk, in the early spring with the Earth vibrating with promise and you’d seen Joel, the worn, well-loved brown of his leather jacket, greying, long strands of his hair brushing against its collar, and you’d seen Joel, beside a tree, wrapping rope around its broken limp, saying soft things under his breath. You’ll be alright, yeah. That’s okay, I’ll be back soon, his voice heavy and measured with his drawl, warm. His fingers drifting over new buds, still tightly curled like a clenched fist, and cooing out his pride like a lullaby. 

Joel loved fiercely, savage and primal. There was nothing beautiful about the way he did it, but it was simple, it was honest and true and gentle. It was his work-roughened hands catching against fabric, his prickly stubble against his niece’s soft skin, the smell of whiskey on his breath and leather on his skin. 

His love wasn’t that of the ocean to the shore, the sun to the moon, the moon to the ocean. A tiring push and pull, illusive and fickle. 

He loved the way the soil loved the roots, giving over chunks of himself for nourishment and food. 

He loved the way the roots loved the soil, wooden fingers clutching tight against dirt and turning it dewy and tender with love. Constant, reliable, never changing. A tried and true dance that would continue to the end of time. 

He drew you to him unknowingly. Unravelled your affection for him like a ball of yarn, stringing it around everywhere he went, lighting up street corners and houses the way lamplighters used to do each evening in a world before you, Joel, and the slow thing he was knitting inside of you, row after patient row. 

Your eyes followed him like a magnet to the North, unknowingly, intrinsically, like breathing, drinking water. You found grooves and corners in Joel Miller that you revelled in, that you painted up inside your mind and took home with you to hang on your empty walls. 

The way he holds his spoon, wipes his mouth. The gnarled knots of his fingers’ joints. The rose-like curling of the skin around his eyes and mouth when he laughs, the way he touches and does so deliberately with intent and purpose. 

You walk by his house in the evenings, catching the glint of his eyes from the yellow porch light as he strums his guitar, the one he pieced together the way he did that tree. Ellie running home at all hours of the day, the trust held between them branching out towards Jackson like coconut, the aroma subtle, blink and you’ll miss it. But it hangs in the air like humidity, like frost on window panes or the fog of your breath against glass during the harsh Wyoming winters. 

You crave more, you’re starving for it. You want Joel’s love, and you want it because you’re selfish, because you don’t like the empty half of your bed, and you think he’d look nice in it, his golden skin and grey hair against floral sheets. You long more than anything to be part of the souls he holds up to the light and plops into his pocket like a marble collection. 

Whenever you are where Joel is, you look at him, fleeting glances in his direction like a heartbeat, over and over, rhythmic and regular. You’re eager to see more of him, to see him when he doesn’t know you’re watching so you can trace the curve of his neck with your eyes and pretend it’s your hands instead, to feel the soft hairs that grow there like peach fuzz. 

Joel loves in spades, in heaping bucketfuls of it. It strains throughout Jackson like a liquid heavier than water, curling around each corner in a warm embrace. You can’t go anywhere without being faced by it, the door hinge he’d fixed, the chairs he’d stacked, the floors he’d swept. The love he’s spread around soaking into your shoes and through your socks, drifting up towards your ankles and making your bones ache. 

It’s hard to deal with it. Its constant, uncompromising presence. The true reality of the man that he was, is. 

It’s even harder to deal with your craving for it, the way your skin sings for it, the way your lungs chase each trace of it they find in the air. 

Maria finds you one day in the gardens, asks, gently hesitant, for you to come over for dinner. You wonder if it was out of concern or pity for the life you lead alone, the simple, yet tried and true routine you occupy your days with. 

Worse than that, you begin to fear that she’s picked up on the fascination you’ve grown for her brother-in-law and the way his worn belt sits on his hips. 

And so to not aggravate it anymore, you agree to spend an evening close to Joel. 

Not alone with him, Tommy and Maria are at the table as well, Ellie coming and going, breaking conversation into brittle pieces of Sohan, but still you’re close and he gives you a brief taste of what sharing love with him could look like. 

His voice is rumbly and deep, river-like as it streams and trips over smooth rocks. The whiskey has loosened him up a bit, the straight, hard edges of his body softening over with comfort, the weight of survival lifted off of him. 

He’s pretty. You want him to reach inside of you and grab your heart, start pumping it for you and press his mouth against yours so you can share air together. 

It’s hard to focus around him, your eyes not wanting to work in tandem whenever they look in his direction, as if protecting you from what might happen if you manage to see him clearly, his peppering of a beard and moustache, the engravings of smile lines on his face. 

To abate the beating inside your chest, you get up for some water, go to refill Maria’s glass while you’re at it. Out of fear of the emotions he’s drawing out of you and your chest. 

You want to calm down, be normal about him and this growing obsession inside of you for an older man. Yet your body and mind refuse to do so vehemently, almost to seek vengeance on you for wanting to quell it, pour water over the burning fire.

As you stand at the counter, waiting for the water to boil and tracing the top button of your jeans round and round with the pad of your finger, you hear Joel and his lopsided walk follow you, his left foot dragging more than his right. 

“Hey.” 

The word falls at the end of itself, stretches against the ground. You follow the trails it leaves in the air, like citrus oil that sparks out of a freshly-peeled orange, bursting out like dust motes in a vibrant sunbeam. 

“Hi,” you turn around, smile at him as best as you can through the tangling of your lungs and stomach. 

Joel looks over his shoulder, back at Tommy and Maria, at Ellie, nudged into her uncle’s side, then he turns to you, “Nice evening.” 

You agree with him, though to yourself you think it’s only because of him, because of the cloud that hangs humid about him, makes the edges of his body go soft and blurry, grainy like all photos are, incapable of catching the true essence of what made them photo-worthy. 

He comes and leans against the counter beside you, hands folded on top of each other. A lock of his hair falls into his forehead and you think if he’d let it, you’d brush it away and go straight to the graveyard so you could die happy, dragging your stone along with you like a blanket. 

It takes everything inside of you to not inch closer to him. 

Despite the community and support that surrounds you everyday, you’re still lonely, still aching for something else. Something to come home to. To be something for someone to come home to. 

You have faint visions of Joel in the doorway of your house, revel in the way he’d drape his jacket over the couch. You want to see him basked in the glow of an early morning, to see his sleep-rumpled shirt and press your face into it and take in greedy lungfuls of his smell.

Ellie’s laugh rings out around the room. You think of the future she was going to have and the one she will have now, and you’re glad that she’s in Jackson away from the dark holes that are the QZs. 

You gaze up at Joel, at the cords rising in his neck like bread dough. Some depraved sprout shoots up inside you and longs to trace your nose against them and their engravings on his skin. You force yourself to look away, down at the glass of water in your hand. 

You ache to move your feet forward and away from him, for the betterment of the both of you and the cage you keep around your chest, the key of which you want to press into Joel’s hands. 

“You should come by more often.” 

He talks to you the same way he talked to the sapling. You wonder if he would rope you up the same way if you broke your arm too, in the same way. It sows dreams inside of you and you rub them away a couple seconds later, thinking of Maria’s sudden invitation asking you over tonight. 

“Thanks,” you murmur it. You’re not going to give him a rebuttal about being a bother so you won’t fall into the push and pull dance with him. 

To your surprise, he straightens up, ducks his head until you look up at him. “M’serious, honey. Really,” you see his hand reach forward before it falls back to place. It flinches and fidgets before it returns to normal. Here all the hair on his skin is grey. “We’ll do this more.” The condition has dropped from his voice. 

Despite your suspicions and reluctance, a bruised, battered thing weeps out inside of you, stops you from turning down his offer again, after he’s pressed it with you. It sits smooth and heavy in the palm of your hand, you run your thumb over it, pretend to mull it over. 

“Well, how about it? Me ‘n Ellie do board games a night each week, you should come,” There’s a swing to his voice, a soft gravel in it. If you could bask in it you’d never leave. 

He chuckles at your lack of response, “Now don’t you be tellin’ me you don’t like to play at cards.”

Finally, you collect yourself enough to shake your head, laugh a little though it’s hard when your lungs are turning themselves inside out at the thought that Joel Miller has invited you to spend more time with him, that he’s deemed you worthy of it. 

Tonight, you play Dutch Blitz. They’re not real Dutch Blitz cards, but with the mixing of yours and his decks, the picture cards tossed aside, there’s enough to play with.

Joel brings you hot water with some whiskey slipped in, his hand resting deliberately on top of yours when he gives it to you. He sits opposite you, Ellie at the head, his owl mug beside him, close enough that you long to trace with your fingers, follow the curves and valleys of it, and wonder if you can get it to talk to you the same way Joel talks to trees, close enough that you can see the splattering of spots ceramics often have. 

When he takes a drink, you have to look away from him and the wave-like motion of his throat for fear of doing something stupid and falling in love. 

He’s terrible at the game. 

After the first couple of rounds, he’d said it was because he didn’t have his glasses and went into the living room to rummage around for them. You could hear his voice sometimes, filtering in back to his kitchen. Not there, some rustling, a drawer being closed, no, I’m sure I ain’t left’em here. His voice is grumbly with aggravation and it makes you and Ellie giggle. 

It had been a long time since you’d laughed like that. Light and childish. The boulder of your personhood lifted off. 

When he does find them, he places them on the edge of his nose, but they don’t help him at all. With the sudden addition of a third player, the flick and slam of cards on the table, quickly adding up to a cap, it’s hard for him to focus. Ellie says that though he never does win, he doesn’t lose so abysmally either when she plays him one-on-one.

He murmurs to himself when he’s playing, like the gentle hum of a honeybee and it distracts you as well, giving Ellie yet another set of wins under her belt. 

“Face it, Joel,” she’s grinning now, shuffling up her hand of cards. “You’re fucking horrible at this.” 

He huffs, “You’re not giving me a fair fightin’ chance, that’s what.” The slope of his neck is just the right angle. He gathers his cards up, does an expert riffle shuffle. “And what’s more I ain’t playin’ no more. Go grab somethin’ else.” 

You’re surprised at how easily Ellie gives into him now, teasing only slightly before she goes away, back to the closet where Joel stores the board games he’s managed to piece together over the years. Monopoly, The Game of Life, Scrabble. There are Jenga blocks as well, ones he’s made himself, and that he’s sanded away at patiently, night after night on his porch. 

It’s your favourite game to play with him, Jenga. It’s tense, but quiet and calm. It gives you time to study his face intently, shade in the scar on his nose and the subtle way he favours the right edge of his mouth to his left when he’s talking. You like it even more because it means you can touch things his hands have touched, the ones he’s worked at patiently, each one a labour of love. 

Even kids come over to his house now, particularly during the summer, and play in his backyard with his Jenga blocks, Joel’s place an extension of the worlds they play in, the juniper trees at the edge perfect for games of hide-and-seek and tag. 

“She’s right,” he sighs, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I am horrible at this.” 

With his glasses in his hand he gestures to the cards. The action pulls at your liver, you may as well have drunk a whole bottle of whiskey. 

“Nonsense,” there’s a strange tendril of confidence wrapping around your throat, drawing out words before you knew what they were. “It’s a hard game. Fast-paced.” 

He laughs to himself, softly. It sounds like molasses, deep and rich and velvety. “That’s just a fancy way of calling me old, darlin’.” 

“I don’t mind,” the words surprise you, the emotion and conviction behind them and you drop them as soon as you can. 

“You don’t mind what?” 

Looking down at your hands, “That you’re old.” You don’t like how you’re bringing attention to it and meekly, you string behind it, “If it matters any.” 

Silence hangs around you, presses hard against your chest and breaks a rib. 

“Thanks, sweetheart. It matters much…more’n you could know.”

A being lies behind his words, unknown and ominous. You don’t want to touch it, break the beehive and let the honey pour onto the grass, the bees angry and furious ready to sting. 

You offer instead to wash the dishes to be able to touch his special mug, finally trace the curve of the owl’s body, embroidered into baked clay. You wonder where Joel found this mug. If it came with the house, how it morphed into his favourite one, if it was a certain thing, from first sight, or if it was a slow and steady climb. 

Ellie comes back a few moments later, the Jenga blocks in her hands. You feel his eyes against your back and you hold your hands under the hot water until they’re irritated and sensitive. 

Joel shows up at your door unannounced. In his hands is a bowl of strawberries, his fingers stained red from picking up, that soft gentle smile on his face. 

“Howdy,” He invites himself in, says the words for you and hands over the bowl. “For you.” 

You think about jam and honey, imagine the feel of granulated sugar clicking under your teeth. 

It’s the late afternoon, a lazy sun stretching into your open window, highlighting dust motes in the air in a stream of light. You place the strawberries on the table, Joel takes one and pops it in his mouth, the hinge of his jaw moving up and down as he chews. 

Laughing, he tells you quietly, “They’re supposed to be for you, I had a stomachful pickin’em.” 

Something twists and knots inside of you at the thought of Joel in the gardens, bending down beside the strawberry plants, choosing fruit for you and bringing it to your door. You wonder if he talked to them the way he seems to do anything, whether or not it can respond to him. 

“They’re good,” he pushes them towards you. “Have some.” 

The berries are a ruby red, vibrant with survival. They press against you as you roll their tiny bodies between your fingers, your nail catching on the seeds pressed into the skins. Biting down into one, you find it intimate to know that you and Joel are tasting the same flavour, tart and sweet, that he has a belly filled with this, that he’d filled his belly behind the soft of his waistline because he was picking you a gift. 

It’s hard to tear your eyes from him, from where he’s looking at you. The sun kisses his shoulder, curls up and around his ear. The strange need you have for him grows and reaches its peak, overwhelming you. You wonder what the soft behind his ear will feel like if you took his with your teeth and soothed the bite over with your tongue, what his hair will smell like. 

You want to ask him, demand him, to kiss you. To press you against the strawberries and not let you go until you’re covered in red juice. 

“Thank you for these,” you say instead, get up to put on some hot water.

“‘Course, honey.” 

You think that Joel may consider you a friend. His friend. 

You like the possession that lies inside the words. The heady things they imply, how they hold your heart in a clenched fist and promise to never let go. 

The other night, he’d invited you over for dinner. Just you. Had been clear about it as well. Ellie’s at Dina’s, Tommy and Maria have date night together. Like he could read your mind and knew the riptides you were apt to fall into if you weren’t careful. 

He’d talked to you, low and soft like he always does. Whiskey had been poured into your coffee and the sunset had lit up the sky in much the same manner as his voice, muted and tender, the air tinted golden like saffron. 

You think that that was the night you realised you couldn’t run from it anymore, had fallen, arms extended but helpless in catching you, towards him and how the sole of his left shoe is smoother than his right. 

The strawberries spark conversation in him about the upcoming harvest, and he analyses the weather with severity, concerned about the apples and squashes if it were to stay the way it was. You pour two cups of hot water, wishing you could give him something he likes more than that, whiskey or wine, and think of what you could trade to get a bottle for your kitchen. 

“...don’t know how we’ll make it through the winter at this rate.” 

Steam curls up from your cup, the heat of the summer day already fading with the sunlight. 

“We’ll make it, one way or the other,” you say. His worries are endearing, parts and pieces of him that you think he’ll never learn to let go of, not even if there was fresh fruit on the table, hot water in the pipes. 

Joel from before. 

He fascinates you, in every form you think of him. 

With your words, you see something in his eyes, something young and untamed. You think he’s going to press it with you, show you why the amount of rain and sun the settlement’s been getting will be its exact downfall. But it dies down, calms back into the soft burnt toffee you know them to be, and the ever-present smiling not-smile returns to his face. 

Finally, he nods his head towards the strawberries and winks at you. You start eating them again, trying to paint up images of him in the gardens, of the strawberries looking even smaller beside his hands. His voice, mellowed and soft, Yeah, yeah, you’re good, that’s alright now, okay? 

Joel’s hand brushes against yours as you reach in for another one, lighting a match against your skin, flames bursting up and down your body. He doesn’t seem to give it much mind, his unshakable calm draped against him like always. 

With a chuckle, he looks down at the one in his hand, “My mama used to make these inta jams.” He eats it, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. Your body pulls at itself and you take one for yourself as well, flavour oozing out into your mouth, tasting like love because you’re sharing it with him. 

“Loved’em with a fresh biscuit,” pausing, he breaks out of his memories to look at you. “You ever had jam ‘n biscuits?” 

“Sure, sometimes.” 

He tilts his head, “Homemade ones?” You shake your head and he waves you off in response, “Oh, then you hadn’t had jam ‘n biscuits. Lemme tell ya, my mama made’em mean. Nothin’ like a hot jar of strawberry jam.” 

Eyes going a little misty he keeps on, “Now, Tommy?” he laughs soft and low, mainly to himself, shakes his head some more. “Tommy he’d scarf’em down the moment they were outta the oven, boy’s got no patience. Couldn’t even wait to take out the jam and then he’d-” the words had been pouring out of his mouth like honey, soothing to your ears but he cuts them off abruptly, “-Ah, would you look at that. I’m borin’ yer head off.” 

It sounds like he is getting ready to leave, his eyes flicking around, on the table, back to you, to the strawberries. You rush forward without thinking about it to get him to stay, “No, no. I-I like talking with you…s’nice.” You finish with a helpless little shrug. 

You don’t know where this sudden confidence has come from and you’re scared you’ve gripped too tight on the bar of soap and Joel will slip out of your grasp and into the sink, that you have to scramble to take it back. To your surprise, you haven’t. 

The discomfort starts to fade away from Joel’s face and you fear what’s going to be put in its place and how similar it might be to what you hold in the farthest corner of your heart, closely guarded away from him. He melts down back into his seat, eats a strawberry. 

If you look closely, the greyer hairs in his moustache are stained red. 

“Well, there ya have it,” he chuckles, deep and warm. “The story of my mama’s biscuits.” 

“Lovely.” 

It stands in front of you, a bunny rabbit of a story, her nose twitching, ears flicking back and forth and incredibly small. You remember the first baby rabbit you ever saw, when you were sixteen over thirty years ago. You hadn’t thought something could be so tiny and also be able to move. It had scampered away the moment it caught sight of you, the bushes bristling into silence in its wake, but behind it one of your lungs and one of your kidneys followed dutifully, leaving you alive but just barely. 

Right now, you cup Joel’s story in your palm, tuck it away in some safe pocket and delight each time you brush against it, a knotted ball of heat and innocence. 

Gaze still fixed on the button-like eyes in front of you, you get surprised when he moves to sit in the chair at your side. His shoulders are broad and mighty still, and you have to look just slightly up to be able to see him fully. 

You see him struggle with his words. Maybe he always does, and you’ve never been this close enough to see it, thoughts breaking on the shore of his mouth, the twitch around his nose, the ever changing colour of his eyes not even quivering still for a moment. 

“You’re-” he clears his throat, it rumbles gently like an earthquake from your feet to your head, shaking your heart in the middle, reminding you of the ache inside it. “You’ve been lonely here…in Jackson.” 

There’s not much to say, and you shrug, “I’m alive.” 

“Not what I said.” 

It stings through you, sharp with truth and a keen observation. You’d thought you’d manage to hide it well, that people had bigger problems than to worry about you, and the emotions running in you that you’ve forgotten what they are and how they’re supposed to feel like. You don’t know what to say, looking down at your hands, starting digging into your cuticles for something to do with them. 

He hums softly, and on instinct you turn your gaze to him, watching his front profile bent forward. “These years…they’ve been hard,” he almost hears your thoughts. “On us all.” 

You think of your husband. The one who’d married you young, though you’d felt like you were anything but at the time, and cradled your heart gently and coaxed you out of moods as if it was the only thing he was made for and wanted to do. He doesn’t come to your mind often anymore, having lost him several years before the world blew up. Together, you’d lived a quiet life. Defined by soothing, soft sunlight and lazy afternoons. 

Truly, you’ve felt lonely your whole life. It didn’t really start twenty years ago, or two years ago when you arrived in Jackson. Had been a quiet and almost ignored child. There’s not much you remember from your childhood, but the knoll of a memory rings true every time. Standing in line for a whole afternoon, a worksheet grasped in your sweaty palms, feeling that soon, soon, you’d be rewarded for listening, for being quiet. 

How interminable that afternoon had seemed to you, long and drawn out, testing your patience at each turn, and how you’d risen up to each defiantly, child-like sense of justice still strong and unfailable. 

You learnt your lesson too late, when your soul and essence had already hardened into unchangeable patterns. So, you got used to getting hurt, tears springing at your eyes and burning through your lungs. 

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.” The corners of Joel’s eyes crinkle, fold up into themselves like fabric. He chuckles softly and you feel your face press into a smile. “I was real angry…and mean. People wouldn’t come within a square mile of me if they could help it.” 

His eyes glisten when he hears you laugh, and he holds up his hands, “I ain’t lyin’, I swear. Ask anyone you want, I was the town grump, yellin’ at kids to get off my lawn.” The words make you laugh even more, hiding it behind your hand and maybe the energy sparks in the air, because Joel starts to laugh too. A deep, gentle, belly laugh that seems to have come from another world. Of soft grey hair and tender eyes. It’s hard to imagine Joel as mean, a grump. 

The perpetuity of time weighs down on you heavily. How separated you feel from yourself at sixteen, twenty, thirty. The decades rolling past you like boulders. It scares you that you and Joel remember a world, a life, that doesn’t exist anymore and soon the two of you will be gone, the memories falling off into the air like they’ve done for generation upon generation. 

You wonder how so little time, in the grand scheme of things, can feel so long and tiresome. How you’re not even fifty yet and still, the thought of having to fall asleep and wake up the next day to do it all again exhausts you to the point of tears. The thought of having to do this for one more day even seems impossible, leave alone for years. 

When you were younger, and you’d first started feeling like this, you’d thought it would pass when you got married, when you got older. When the world fell apart you’d thought you would snap out of it, yet it never happened. The only time you’d felt happy waking up was from nightmares, panting and struggling to orient yourself. 

It had been better since you arrived at Jackson, found some semblance of routine and stability that you’d craved since you were a child. 

Joel sighs, drawing you out of your thoughts, and focusing you in again to see him rub at his beard, the movement tugging at the insides of you. “Don’t know why I’m telling you this really,” he lets out a quiet breath, and it washes over you, ocean-like. “I-I…” He swallows thickly, and you’re alarmed to see him gather himself as if to move to go. “Been botherin’ you really-” 

You cut him off by saying his name. It tolls inside you, flashes of hospitals and the dark green carpet of the funeral home coming to the forefront of your mind. 

You think about your husband's eyes, the soft slope of them, so similar and yet so different to Joel’s. You wonder if Joel would have liked him, if in another world the two of them would drink beer together and play poker, while you complained about them to friends you’ve never truly, properly had. 

The image is domestic, tugs at you and you know soon you’re going to cry if you’re not careful. You start talking, how the two of you had met, the sudden and then slow fall. 

The ache in you grows and grows, till it’s fit to burst. Talking about him to Joel feels like emptying out an abscess, makes you feel both guilty and relieved. 

He talks in turn. Of a daughter. The pulsing, too-hot blood covering his forearms and screaming until he’d lost his voice and spat red for a week later. Hot, bright flashes of anger that never truly went away. 

You wonder if that’s what had drawn you to Joel in the first place, that gaping, weeping hole inside of him that reflected so tenderly back into your stomach. He laughs a couple of times, telling you about Ellie. Then he cries and despite everything, you envy him for how he does it so rightfully, well-timed. 

You can’t remember a time you’d talked so much. The sun sets over his back, beside his ear. 

There’s a fatigue in your bone marrow, a deep, strong ache that ripples through your back and muscles. Joel looks a different person to you know, the ghost of a girl standing behind him, her hand placed on his forearm, gentle features in her face ringing true to her father’s and that of a woman you don’t know. You’re seized with the urge to turn back time, to see if you would have found Joel in the old world just like you have this one. If you would have liked his daughter, found companionship in her the way you do with all women. 

Joel smiles at you, eyes glistening, murmuring something about the time. The day comes back to you at once, and you feel you’ve taken a breath after hours of holding it in. You wonder at the way Joel’s drawn all this out of you, patient and with no rush at all. How he’d deemed you worthy of time and attention. 

You walk with him to your front door, feeling as if it was years since he’d shown up at it, bowl in hand. 

“Hey, honey?” The back of Joel’s shirt is wrinkled from the way he was sitting at your table. He turns back to you, the sun fully set now. 

You have a strange need to offer to walk him home. Then you hope he’d offer to walk you home and you’d do the same and then you could spend the rest of your life walking with him home. 

“Yeah?” 

The pull he has terrifies you. There’s a subconscious ache in your muscles to be closer to him, to right what seems to have been wronged. 

He does it for you, takes a step away from the door and barely a few breaths of space between you. From here, you can see the sunspots in his beard, flecked onto tanned and weathered skin and you think about a time when Joel was so young he didn’t have a beard. 

“There’s a-uh…ah, ” he goes gravelly and clears his throat, running a hand up and down his beard comfortingly. Something inside him renews and the insecurity falls away, it’s fascinating and addicting to watch. You’re sure there isn’t a more interesting person on the Earth. “You wanna come with me? To the dance next week?” 

You swallow and it does nothing to help the feeling inside you that you’re being torn into two. “Oh, Joel I…” you fumble for an excuse out of all the well-used and well-rehearsed ones you have. “I-uh…I’m not much of a dancer.” 

“Hell,” he laughs, and his eyes go to the size of slivered almonds. “Neither am I. But they play some fancy records. I go for the music.” 

“What kind?” 

You’re not going to go, you’re certain of this, already feeling like you’ve imposed far too much on him, but this is another part of Joel, the music he listens to each week at the community dance. There’s no harm in taking it for yourself. 

“Real old stuff,” his eyes twinkle. “You think me old? Wait ‘til ya hear it, it’s stuff my grandparents listened to growin’ up.” A beat, something drops in his tone, “M’serious.” He sounds nervous even, “I want you to go with me.” 

You don’t know how to tell Joel this is the first time someone’s asked you out in a long, long, while. If ever. Your husband was the only man who ever loved you and he’d always been there. Had proposed to you in the low light of his kitchen, matter-of-fact sort of, I suppose we should get married. 

You don’t know how much of your story Joel’s gratuitously, much to the contradiction of your character, filled in. You want to have led the life he’s envisioned for you, so kindly and tenderly, eating strawberries at your kitchen table, rather than the cold, lonely one you’ve led instead. 

Through the sudden twisting and turning inside you, a cold pang stops it at your foolishness to assume that this is what you’d thought it was. That you’d taken the opaque words and read through them, leading yourself astray and susceptible to getting hurt. 

“Darlin’? Makes me real nervous when you take so long to answer questions like this,” he coos softly, you think again of the way he talks to everything, as if he can see through it to the marrow and essence, trace it with his finger. You see his hand twitch and this time he does touch you, holding onto your forearm, a soft fire burning on your skin. “What’s wrong, hm?” 

“I don’t know how to dance, Joel,” you say finally. You feel and see yourself leaning close to his touch, the warmth of his body spilling into your own, but you’re helpless to stop it. You want to feel his chest on your bare back, the prickle of his beard against your skin, roughened palms against your stomach. So much roughness pressing on you with love. 

He lets out a tender breath, as if to say, that’s all? “Well, I’ll teach ya if ya want. And if not, we’ll have a drink and listen to some Guy Lombardo, alright?” 

You know you should protest again, keep pushing it with him until he drops the act, keeps this where it ought to remain. But your yearning for him is overwhelming and tiring to fight against, “Alright.” 

“Alright?” His thumb brushes back and forth against your skin. You look up at him and you fear that now there’s no hiding from him anymore, behind quiet and excuses. You feel his eyes hit the back of your lungs. “Alright, honey,” he smiles at you, his skin folding up like intricate origami, stealing your breath away at seeing it up so close. 

“I’ll see you soon, then,” he murmurs. Then he’s leaning down towards you to kiss your cheek. A rough brush of slightly chapped lips before he’s straightened up and the door clicking shut behind him, a trail of blood following him from where your chest is, gaping empty, your heart trudging along unknowingly behind him and his broad shoulders like slug. 

For two years you fought against it, pushing it aside as it continued to grow like an untamed weed, growing a strong, unbreakable net of roots only for you to lose all of it in close to five minutes, to show you how fragile and fallible you were when it came to Joel Miller. 

The community centre in Jackson is one of the only buildings left nearly intact. The floors were still original wood, and creaked and groaned with each step. With the fall of summer, the harvest close to over, the nights were coming earlier, quicker, and colder. As you walk towards the building, the lights glow from the windows flickering some strange sense of nostalgia in you, twinging at a corner you’d thought was long gone inside your heart. 

Joel is standing at the entryway, hair brushed back in a way that, in the fickle light, almost makes him unrecognizable. You’ve never seen him like this, not just his hair, but his appearance. Your heart stutters when it sees itself reflected, nervous and trembling in Joel’s face. The thought of him making himself all pretty-like for you in the glow of his bathroom makes you feel faint, makes you feel young in a way you don’t ever remember feeling. That maybe, the thought of you has him nervous and stumbling and anxious, how you so often feel around him. 

“Hey, honey.” 

You stammer a little smile, say you hope you hadn’t kept him too long. A record scratch comes from inside and the soft drone of trumpets and crooning filters out to the two of you like fairy dust.

Putting his hand on the small of your back, Joel leads you inside. 

True to his word, he doesn’t do any dancing. You’re not sure if you can handle such close proximity to him, feeling the gentle wash of his breath, to breathe him in so deeply the push outwards strains your lungs without the promise of being able to do it again whenever you want to.  

He gets you two a drink and sways with you, arm around your shoulders, talking in soothing tones that rival the one he uses with his niece. When he pretends to not notice you looking, you gaze at him, his profile glowing in the lights of the hall, the wrinkles in his face like those of a tree trunk. 

You’d been nervous to be seen out like this with Joel, worried to hear rumours fly and nervous that your reaction to them would give away inner corners of your heart that you don’t even dare graze in the safety of the early morning darkness, alone, in your own bed and house. Even more, you didn’t want him hearing them, the malicious tongues of Jackson picking you apart any more than they already had had. 

Yet to your surprise, people only smile at you, ask you to join them at the Tipsy Bison, Joel agreeing readily for you as you struggle to find the words. 

You and Joel, it seems, are no great news. 

You wonder how much time has been wasted just because of your broken mind, thoughts from your childhood running through it constantly chiming truth-like when they were only supposed to light laughing matters now. 

The weight of Joel’s hand grows suddenly, and it drops onto your chest. The subtle, comforting smell of wood turns stifling, dust floating up and stinging your eyes. With a quiet word, you slip out from under Joel’s arm as he’s talking to Tommy, head back outside and start taking greedy gulps of air. 

The normalcy of it, the quiet indifference and accepting looks around you had taken you aghast. At how quickly you’d lost the rules you’d set in place for when you were around Joel. At how quickly you’d managed to fool yourself into thinking that you could do this, be normal and sound, at how you’d tricked Joel into thinking the same and now it felt that everything was suspended in the balance. 

The whole unworthiness of it. How you’d managed to outsmart the world time and time again into staying alive for whole decades after you’d thought you would, and how you couldn’t do the same for your husband, a man so worthy of life compared to you. How he’d worked at you patiently, tenderly. Made you believe, for brief, fleeting moments that maybe you were wrong, that you can think wrong thoughts and yet there was nothing wrong with that, and that nobody had been tricked and everyone was deserving. 

And how quickly that had all been torn away from you in a torturous six months. 

Some days, you feel you’ve gotten better, the tug of black tar lighter, only to drown even worse the next. 

He’d been the only person ever to convince you otherwise. And he’d been wrong. 

Until now. 

The back porch creaks softly under Joel’s shoes, and by now you’ve given up wondering why you can recognize the way the world around him reacts to his presence. You turn to face him, to see the angel-like glow around his silhouette for the half-instant it’s there. 

You look down quickly at your feet, hoping it hides the sudden heat rising to your face and calms it down. 

In so many ways, you feel older than you are, ready to lay down in the ground and surrender to the dirt and grass, and in others you still feel like a child, helpless and naive. Joel shouldn’t be finding you out here, staring into the night for answers you know won’t be there. 

“There ya are,” you’ve never heard his voice this way before, the many nuances and inflections that you’ve studied like a religion. 

Your shame is so great you can’t even bring yourself to apologize, an annoying habit your mother always lashed out at you for, your apparent insolence and indifference. 

There’s the same shuffling step of his, the left favoured over the right. There’s a loud round of laughter from inside and you flinch at it as Joel comes to stand beside you. 

“Needed some air?” 

If you could, you would crawl into his chest, burrow down there so he’d lull you to sleep with the rumble of his voice. Though he’s only inches from you, he feels much farther away. 

You nod quietly and you wonder how you can tell Joel that the outbreak hadn’t made you like this, that Jackson had brought it out of you again after years of a toughened, fraud outside you’d held to yourself protectively like a blanket. That there wasn’t anything more to peel away, and you couldn’t be fixed with rope or soft words like the plants he loves and the wood he whittles away into gifts. 

“Joel…” you lick your lips, bite down on the inside of your cheek until you bleed. His name feels right, shaped out of your voice, and you marvel at how well-trained your mind is, after almost fifty years of feeding you lies and your fighting right back against it, to find the cracks in your armour and press and press until it gives out. “I’m sorry.” 

Words so familiar to you they should be written on your gravestone. 

He tsks, waving at the air dismissively, “Now, stop with all that.” It’s the harshest he’s ever spoken to you yet it’s still quiet and kind. He comes to face you, the light inside falling on his face and into the deep groves of it. 

Despite yourself, you gaze into his eyes, to peer at the earnestness in them, dreadfully familiar. 

“I’m sorry.” A frozen clock, stuck on the same time, the seconds hand beating and beating and going nowhere, as the world around it covers itself in dust and death. 

Pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris. 

He smiles, eyes still feather-soft and honey-sweet. A strand of hair comes loose, falling into his face and you see the Joel you’ve come to love, despite any and all precautions. 

You say his name quietly, “He was the only one who…” It’s hard to describe what your husband had done for you, even if you hadn’t felt so stunted with words since you started learning them. His earnest and pure love that had flowed through him for you and the whole world while he was alive, how you’d thwarted it away, the black, rotten core inside of you screaming out, and how, wave after wave, he’d returned to you. 

“And you think there’s only one person for you in this world?” There’s nothing patronizing in his voice, which makes it all the worse for you. You wish it had been that simple, that you had seen yourself worthy of only your husband’s love, had seen something in his relentless pursuit of giving it over to you with no hope of return. How it had been only stronger on the days it had been hard to eat, and sleep, and wake up. 

Your voice breaks, “I wasn’t even supposed to get the one.” 

“Oh, honey,” he coos. The heel of his palm is rough as it brushes against your jaw. Coaxing, he tilts your head up to face his. The second time only you’ve been so close to him and it seems your body still hasn’t gotten used to it. 

The darkness of the night is enshrouding, humidity pressing against your lungs. Joel’s jacket is on top of your shoulders, his presence drowning out the darkness, leaving sunlight and trees instead. You feel his roots claw down into your chest, latch onto your liver and heart. 

“You know…” he swallows and you’re too close to the motion because you’re dangerously close to your knees giving out underneath you. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” 

It’s not judgmental, Joel could never be that. But you shrink inside nonetheless, embarrassed and feeling smaller than ever. 

Ghosts swarm around the two of you, stirring the air and making a soft breeze and goosebumps rise against your skin. 

You go to look away but he wills it not and what is the turning of the Earth if not for the wants of Joel Miller? 

“Real flattered, if I could say so. Didn’t think-” he clears his throat and this time he looks away, shy and young, a bird hiding its beak in its wing. “Didn’t think you’d fancy an old man like me.” 

The truth behind his words amazes you, how it’s something he seems to have considered time and time again relentlessly, from all angles, and still decided it to be his reality. 

“How-how…could I not?” 

There’s the deep, soothing rumble of his laugh again. It rings clear with tradition and home, and baked clay and spotted ceramic owls. “You’re a bit hard to read sometimes, honey.” 

Inside of you, your veins seize up, heart quivering at his words. He smiles down at you in that gentle, Joel way of his, quieting your thoughts. The soft drone of music drifts out from the open window, the slow murmur of a content crowd of happy people. 

His arm wraps around your waist, testing, eyes flitting back and forth on you. With each pass of his gaze, you feel the soft patter-like feet of butterflies resting against your cheeks, wings flapping slowly, measured as if to show your heart how to beat again, properly. 

Daringly, you inch closer to him. His nose comes down to meet yours. 

“Hey, darlin’...honey?” 

He’s whispering and he’s never whispered with you before. 

His breath is warm against your face, if you could, you would tuck your head under his shirt and never come up again. 

“Can I kiss ya? Would ya let me?” 

It’s hard to think that this is where you’ve ended up with Joel, from the first time you saw him those handful of years ago, where he’d been standing off to the side talking with someone, standing over a pile of wood, until now. His weight leaned on one leg, hip popped out making you lose your breath at the sight of it. 

Like a blossoming tea he’s unfurled for you. Had stretched and arched in hot water, catching your eye for it never to be let go of again. 

He traces your hairline with his finger, murmurs your name. “Can I?” His eyes are only on your mouth now, sometimes coming up to blink and meet yours. 

Joel seems close to as nervous as you, seems as if he sees you to be precious the same way you do him. It’s equally surprising and comforting, gives you the final push forward, your foot slipping against a grainy edge and plummeting you towards the bottom, wind beating against your ears. 

“Yeah.” You sound strong, certain. The sturdy trunk of an oak tree. Even more daring, you press your palm against his tummy, a few fingers under the edge of his ribs, enjoying the give of his flesh as you lean up into him even more. 

His voice rumbles against your lips, the whispering lost to the wind now, “Ain’t you the sweetest thing.” 

Thanks so much for reading, hopefully I haven't lost my edge after a year off. If you liked this please consider leaving me some feedback, I obsess over it constantly!

[abbysgolf-club]

Heey - I saw your post about wanting new requests so here we go I guess, I hope you'd like to write this :3

So I'm thinking Vi x Reader where the reader is a total softie / sweetheart who also lives in zaun. She has a crush on vi and vi knows about it but never really requited it. Or so she thought - one night the reader gets hit on by some scetchy dudes, it doesn't End well and she gets hurt (if you feel comfortable writing this of course!!). Vi sees all of this, kinda saves the reader and realizes that she has a lot more feelings for this lil softie than she thought. Maybe with heavy making out in the End <3

s3xual assault themes (it doesn't happen), pet names (cupcake, baby etc), not proof read, kinda rushed sorry if it's bad 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

MDNI

You were sat in the bar, having your usual, a dirty dr pepper; minding your own business until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey there, pretty girl. Can i sit?" a man's voice rang through your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

"go for it.." you muttered, sipping your drink and allowing him to sit next to you. It didn't take long for his hand to slither its way onto your leg. You didn't say anything at first out of fear, he might just be doing it in a friendly way?

You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, trying to shake his hand off you. it didn't budge. "Hey, dude. do you mind..?" you asked him, kinda hoping he'd get the hint and get the fuck off you.

"What's the matter baby? Are you being ungrateful?" he smirked, trailing his hand further up your thigh. "Tell me baby, tell me this is what you want."

You froze, unable to do anything. panicking, you chucked your drink on him, hoping he'd back up. spoiler alert, he didn't.

"Ooh, feisty. i like it." he chuckled, his voice low and sultry. "Give into me. You know you want to." his grip on your thigh tightening.

"Get off of me, please!" You tried to fight out of his grip, but failed. Tears formed in your eyes as he got closer and closer to what he wants, your protests, pleads and tears didn't stop him. If anything it pushed him to do it more.

"Dude, can't you see she doesn't want you near her!?" A familiar voice called out from a few feet away. "Get off of her." the voice continued, the person stepping closer. it was vi.

The guys hand stayed on your thigh, his grasp almost painful. "And who are you to stop me?" he challenged, allowing her to get closer and closer to the two of you.

Vi rolled her eyes, throwing a hit at the guy groping you. "You heard me. leave her alone, man" she raised her voice a little, getting up close and personal in the guys face. "Get out of here" she spat, raising her fist to punch the guy again. before she got the chance to get another hit, he scrambled off, his grip on your thigh finally leaving aswell as him.

Vi watched him leave, the look of frustration and anger leaving to become more of an empathetic look along with something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You okay, cupcake? he didn't hurt you did he?" Her voice was soft and calm as she held your hand cautiously.

"I'm okay, just glad he left." you smiled softly, the feeling of that guys hand still lingering on your thigh. "Thank you." you blushed, you'd had a crush on Vi for as long as you could remember. Her saving you from a pervy guy added to that crush. dramatically.

"No worries cupcake, always here to help." She smirked, pulling you up out of your seat. "How 'bout we get out of here, yeah?" she asked, her hand interlocking with yours as she guided you out of the bar and into a dimly lit alleyway.

You followed her out into the alleyway, hugging her after she leaned up against the wall. "Woah cupcake, you all good?" her voice shocked, but comforting as she wrapped her arms around your waist, embracing the hug.

"Yeah.. thank you, for stopping that guy. who knows what coulda happened" you murmured into the crook of her neck, taking in her scent as you did.

"Don't worry about it, anyone woulda done the same." she hummed, trying to act nonchalant and not being too successful. Her face was a little pink and her voice a little wobbly.

Her hand reached up to your face to look at you before she pulled you into a soft kiss, gentle and loving.

You pulled back for a second, taking a breath before smashing your lips against hers. Your tongues exploring eschothers mouths. you couldn't believe this was happening.

[musette22]

Hey Minnie! How are you doing? It’s been quite rainy and gray where I’m from and its my favourite weather for reading. Do you perhaps know a fic where Sebastian hurts himself (not too badly, just a clumsy mistake) and Chris becomes an overprotective mother hen; taking care of Sebastian and carrying him? Or would you mind writing a tiny drabble? Thank you! Much love, Anon.

Hiii sweetheart! 💗 Ah, I'm so sorry to hear it's been so grey and rainy where you are - same here, I'm so so sick of it 🙈 But you're right, it is perfect weather to read, so that's a silver lining!

As for your question, I absolutely have to rec the wonderful @luninosity's fics Stars Out Of The Blue and Just Like Honey To The Bee, Baby. Two perfectly lovely and slightly angsty (but mostly sweet) hurt/comfort fics 💕

And, because you asked so nicely and it's such a lovely request, I also wrote a quick little thing for you, nonnie. Hope you enjoy! 😘

**********************

“Ow! Fuck!”

At the sound of Sebastian's distressed voice, coming from somewhere nearby, Chris is up like a shot – never mind that he'd only just put his head down for a nap. He flings open his trailer door and finds Sebastian hopping around on one leg in front of his own, neighboring trailer, cursing up a storm.

“Seb?” Chris asks in alarm. “You alright?”

“I'm fine," Sebastian says, though his face, contorted with pain, says otherwise. "I'm – oh shit, fucking ow.”

“Seb, hey,” Chris says, a little out of breath from sprinting over. He grabs Sebastian's shoulders to steady him. “Don't – no, don't try to stand on it! Here, come on, let me help –”

He takes Sebastian's arm and slings it around his shoulder, propping him up. Sebastian, meanwhile, keeps up a steady stream of cursing under his breath.

“I'm such a fucking – ugh, I wasn't even doing anything, I just stepped off the step wrong and twisted my ankle. Who does that, Jesus Christ. Me, apparently, ‘cause I'm a fuckin' idiot.”

“Hey,” Chris says firmly, squeezing Sebastian’s forearm. “It happens. You're not an idiot, Seb, it was just bad luck.”

Sebastian just grumbles some more, leaning heavily into Chris's side. Chris distantly registers how nice Seb smells, but he pushes that useless thought away in favor of focusing on the present.

“Does it hurt badly? Can you walk at all?”

Sebastian gingerly lowers his boot-clad foot to the ground and winces immediately. “Oh, fuck. Nope. That doesn't feel good.” 

Chris frowns. “Shit. You think it's broken?”

“Probably not,” Sebastian sighs, “but a sprain wouldn't be great either. I'm scheduled to –”

“Don't worry about that,” Chris interrupts. “We'll think about that later. Right now we've gotta get you lying down and outta that boot. If you're swelling up, we should make sure it's off as soon as possible.” He looks around, seeing if there's anyone else around who might be able to get someone qualified to come over and check Sebastian out, but seeing as it's lunchtime, the area is deserted. 

Chris nods to himself. “Okay,” he tells Sebastian, “brace yourself.”

Sebastian blinks and asks, “For what?” 

Chris doesn't elaborate, letting his actions speak for themselves as he bends down and slides his free arm behind Sebastian's knees

Sebastian catches on just in time. “Holy shit,” he squeaks, scrambling to get a better hold on Chris's shoulders as he gets lifted into a bridal-style hold. “Chris, what are you –”

“Can you open the door, please?” Chris grits out as he sets his right foot onto the steps leading up to Sebastian's trailer. Oof, Sebastian is a little heavier than he looks.

Sebastian hurries to do as he's asked, and Chris carefully maneuvers them both inside, taking care to avoid banging Sebastian's injured foot – or his as yet uninjured head, for that matter – against the doorframe. Inside, he carries Sebastian over to the worn, black couch in the corner and carefully lays him down on it, with his head cushioned on one of the armrests.

Chris straightens, catching his breath as he looks Sebastian over. His long hair is a little dishevelled, and there’s color high on his cheeks, but Chris assumes that is because of the exertion.

“This okay?”

Sebastian nods, not quite meeting Chris's eye. “Yeah. Thanks.

Chris doesn't stop to think about what he's doing before he drops to his knees next to the couch and starts unlacing Sebastian's black leather boot, which Chris recognises as part of the Winter Soldier costume.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, alright?” he orders, as he carefully starts to inch the boot off Sebastian's foot. 

Immediately, Sebastian sucks in a breath through his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut and a pained look on his face. But he doesn't cry out or tell Chris to stop, so Chris doesn't, not until he's got the boot all the way off.

“Good,” Chris says soothingly, “that's good, Seb. I'm gonna take your sock off too, okay? I just need to have a quick look to see what we're working with.” 

Sebastian clears his throat. “Um. Yeah, sure.”

Slowly, Chris tugs off the knit grey sock to expose Sebastian's bare foot, and then slightly pushes up the cuff of his pants so he can have a proper look. He hums thoughtfully. “A little swollen, but not too bad yet,” he reports. He puts his hand under Sebastian’s heel, cradling his foot, before very, very carefully turning it inward to test his range of motion.

Sebastian hisses, hand flying up to his hair. 

“Sorry,” Chris says, wincing in sympathy. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean –”

“It's fine.” Sebastian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Keep going.”

When Chris attempts to turn Sebastian's ankle outward, Sebastian actually whimpers, tears springing to his eyes. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Chris says, feeling like an asshole. “Okay, no more, I promise. You're okay, Seb. I got you.” He gives Sebastian's thigh a reassuring squeeze, not letting himself dwell on how warm and firm it feels under his hand. “Let's just keep it elevated for now and I'll get you some painkillers and some ice to put on it while I go grab a medic, alright?”

“Wait,” Sebastian says, hand shooting out to grab Chris's shoulder. “Don't – Please, I don't want to make a whole fuss over nothing. I'm sure it'll be fine if I just ice it for a while or something, right?”

Chris frowns. “I don’t know, Seb. You've very likely got a sprained ankle. That's gonna take more than just some ice. I wish I could just, like, magically kiss is better for you, but I'm afraid that's not gonna cut it.”

Sebastian huffs out a slightly delirious laugh. “Well, we don't actually know that, do we?” 

“I mean, I guess not,” Chris replies, smiling. He waggles his eyebrows. “Want me to give it a shot?” 

And it's a joke, of course it is, but part of Chris can't help but wonder what would happen if –

“Okay.”

Chris blinks up at Sebastian, feeling like he missed a step on the stairs. “Okay?”

Sebastian doesn't say anything else. He just keeps watching Chris intently, as if waiting to see what he'll do, and – 

There are several things that Chris should be doing right now. He should laugh it off, then get up to grab some ice from the mini freezer, and call a medic. He should make sure Sebastian is looked after properly by people who know what they’re doing.

Chris should not be slowly leaning down. He shouldn't be swiping his thumb gently over the arch of Sebastian's surprisingly elegant foot, and he definitely shouldn't be pressing his lips tenderly to the hot, smooth skin of Sebastian's injured ankle, but – that's what he does nonetheless.

At the contact, Sebastian draws a shaky breath. When Chris looks up and meets Sebastian's eyes, they've gone big and dark, the loaded look in them causing a shiver to run up Chris's spine.

“So?” Chris asks finally, voice a little rough. “Think it worked?”

Sebastian swallows, then licks his lips. “Not sure yet.”

Chris drags his eyes from Sebastian’s throat, via his mouth, up to his eyes. “Maybe –”

“Yes?”

“Well, I'm just thinkin'… Maybe this particular case requires a different sort of kiss? Something a bit... less localized.”

“Right,” Sebastian nods, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Chris's lips. “That makes sense. I think we should try that.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees, and then he carefully places Sebastian's foot back on the couch, before leaning up to hover over Sebastian's reclining form. 

There, he hesitates – until Sebastian lifts a hand to the back of Chris's head and pulls him down. Their lips meet in a kiss that is both hesitant and inviting at the same time, infinitely thrilling in its newness. Chris closes his eyes, humming softly as he lets himself melt into it, deepening the kiss while still taking care to avoid Sebastian's injury.

He may not be able to kiss Sebastian's ankle better, Chris thinks as he starts to mouth his way down Sebastian's throat, but he can damn well make sure Sebastian feels good everywhere else.

[littlelambscandyland]

What's Best For You

Yandere!Cg!Eobard Thawne x Little!Reader

Warnings- Kidnapping, Forced Regression, Accidental Self Injury, Incorrect Medical Knowledge, Cursing, Milk, Bottle Feeding

"Let me out!" You scream. "Let me out!"

Your hands clash against the door. Thick metal that you couldn't leave a dent on. The door wouldn't budge no matter what pressure you could put on.

Your cries die in your throat, and you're almost certain you've torn your vocal cords. The point is proven even more when you go to scream again only for blood to catch in the back of your mouth.

Tears gather and drop down your face. Dread filled your stomach. You slouched down to the floor, body filled with tension and exhaustion.

You wish you knew why he did this. What did Thawne gain from this? Why were you here? Why would he do this? You just wanted to go home. You just don't understand. You never fought him. Was he doing this to get at Barry or was this something else entirely?

All the anxiety piling up until your exhaustion eats you and you fall asleep on the floor.

~~~~

You felt so warm. Strong arms hold you close, you feel like you're in heaven. If only your throat didn't hurt so much. A hum played on your lips but as soon as it slipped through a cough rapture your throat. A hand rubs your back and a voice shushes your panic.

Your face remains buried in the man's chest. A blanket wrapped you up in their arms. You try to remember why you were here. What had happened. Slowly your mind clears.

The Reverse Flash kidnapped you.

Your breathing grows heavy and you try to push yourself away from the man. You aren't safe.

"Shush, shh, shhh..." His voice drags out.

His arms wrap you tightly rendering your pushing useless. The pain in your throat worsens as you try to scream at him.

What was going on? What were you supposed to do?

A rumble passes through his chest before he smacks your butt. The sting shocking you for a second causing you to still.

"Don't be a brat, I'm trying to help you." Eobard says angrily.

Despite your senses telling you to fight him off you go limp in his arms. A bit of blood dribbles down your lips from the broken screaming. He pulls you back slightly and scans your face. Blue eyes and an unreadable face meets with puffy eyes and a wet face.

He sighs. "You're okay..." He wipes the blood from your chin. "You won't be able to talk for a while, you tore your vocal cords." Eobard informs you simply. "Such a fragile thing... I know you're scared." His eyes hold something you're afraid to identify. "I'm not going to hurt you."

You turn your face away, you don't want to see those eyes anymore.

"Come on, Y/n." You can practically hear him roll his eyes. "You can't pretend you didn't want this, someone to take care of you, to love you, protect you."

Your brows furrowed at his words. What was he even saying? You don't need anyone to "take care" of you. You especially didn't need Eobard Thawne to take care of you! You wanted to scream at him, but you knew your throat couldn't handle it. You wanted to punch him, hit him, but you were afraid of what might happen if you did.

Eobard stood up, from what you'd just realized was a recliner, with you in his arms. Defiantly, you tried to kick your legs down only for the man to tighten his hold with one arm and pull a leg back up with the other. A simple "Don't." playing off his lips.

He carries you to a bathroom where he sets you on the counter, back facing the large mirror. He wets a towelette with warm water and gently runs it down your face. Wiping away the tears, blood, and snot.

"There we go..." His hand rests on your cheek as his thumb rubs it gently. "Already being such a good baby for daddy."

Your eyes widen. What did he mean by that? Why the hell did he call himself that?

"No, no... Don't start that again." He says picking you back up. "I've got you." He tries to soothe while rocking you lightly.

You wanted to tell him to stop, to put you down, to just let you go home. What kind of game was this? Where were you? What was this place? Why is he acting like this?

Eobard holds you securely against his chest. One second your being rocked in the large bathroom and the next you're both standing in an even larger kitchen. The sudden movement makes you dizzy.

"If I sit you down will you behave?" He asks, brushing your hair away.

You turn your face away in a small act of defiance. What the hell could you do against him anyways? You're not as strong, and definitely not as fast as he is.

The blue eyed man sighs. "I'm going to heat up some milk, okay, honey? It'll help with your throat." His voice comes out softer than you were comfortable with.

Fucking milk, is he serious? What were you two?

He adjusts you to his hip resting you there and keeping you stable with one arm. He puts some milk into a small pot and lets it heat. A song plays past the man's lips in a hum. A song you have never heard, but sounds like a lullaby.

For once Eobard Thawne wasn't yelling or violent, he seemed at peace. It was heartwarming and terrifying. He seemed genuinely happy rocking you while heating up the milk.

It hit you harshly, the whole point of you being here. He wants you to be his kid. Why wouldn't he just get an actual child? Not that you'd want an actual child to be subjected to him, but truly, you just didn't understand.

Why you?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Eobard lays a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes meet his and there's that spark in them that you've seen a few times before. It was the same look he gave you before the team found out who he was; the look he gave when you got hurt and he'd help Caitlin patch you up.

You look away as quickly as you meet his eyes. The depth being simply too much for you. You hear him huff what you can only assume is an odd laugh.

You hadn't realized he'd turned off the stove and poured the milk into a bottle. You hadn't realized that he had laid the both of you in a bed. Not until now at least.

Eobard tucks you into his side and pulls the bottle up to your lips. You hesitate for a moment before pushing his hands away.

Did he actually think you'd just go with it?

You scuffle only for a moment before he has your arms pinned with one hand.

"Stop fighting me." He rasps out angrily.

He shifts himself slightly lower, drags you deeper into his side, and holds your arms tightly.

"Drink." He demands holding the bottle to your lips.

Despite yourself you listen this time. The sting in your arms makes you more compliant in hopes he'll release his grip.

The second the milk hits the back of your mouth your eyes water. As much as the liquid hurt it soothed. The creamy texture relaxes you.

With your compliance, Eobard releases your arms. You let the man hold the bottle and you until it's gone. Your eyes droop and you struggle to keep them open.

"Go to sleep, little one... You're safe... Daddy's got you..." Eobard whispers encouragingly to you.

As scared as you were you couldn't help but find comfort in the actions and words. The world blurs together and you drift off comfortably in the man's arms.

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

[adoringmha]

reading this again made me think of katuski who really just needs your kisses throughout the day. like, it's a part of his routine, and once he adds something to his strict regime, it becomes essential, and his whole day feels off without it.

so even when you're both mad at each other over some petty argument, he can't leave the house without a kiss goodbye. he'll grumble and come up to you while you're on your laptop, blatantly ignoring him.

he stands there, grinding his teeth, as he glares down at you. you look ahead, still not sparing him a glance, and blink a few times in annoyance when he stays silent for a whole 30 seconds.

"can i help you?" your voice is tight, as you roll your eyes.

"i'm leavin."

"okay?" you answer, clipped, silently and secretly cursing at yourself for pushing him away when you know what he wants (it's what you want too). you're just too stubborn, sometimes more than him.

he shifts on his feet. "i'm leaving." his voice is quiet, slightly timid, but still stiff. you know he's pouting internally.

his eyes are burning onto your face with how hard he's staring, a silent demand (plea) in his gaze and presence.

you glance up at him and feel your resolve cracking, no matter how much you want to grab the pieces and jam them back together to stand your ground.

you manage to glare at him for a solid five seconds before you look away and give in. but you're still stubborn about the way you do.

"i'm not getting up." you still keep your gaze away from him, because you know if you do, you'll want to give in even further and wrap yourself around him like a koala, like a moth to a flame.

he responds like a petulant child needing to get the last word in as he bends down, "didn't say you had to."

his eyes glance over your face and he bites his tongue to not say anything snarky to make you change your mind. his hand lightly tilts your head and he presses his lips against yours sweetly, despite the tension (that's slowly dissipating) between you two.

he gives you a sweet, long kiss, it's an apology, a reminder that he loves you, and a goodbye to keep him going for the rest of the day.

your hand comes up to rest on his that's still holding you in place, his thumb absentmindedly running light circles on your cheek. you can practically feel yourself getting lighter, looser.

when he pulls away, you can almost feel the cord of tension wanting to pull the two of you together again for another kiss, but you both fight it. he takes his time letting his hand slide away from you and the both of you stare into each others eyes for a few seconds before he clears his throat.

"i'll see you." his voice is quieter than before, barely a whisper.

you lick your lips and his eyes catch onto the motion. "be safe."

he stands up straight and nods slightly. "always."

and okay, you won't admit it but maybe, you needed the kiss just as much as him. it is a part of your routine after all.

[nereidprinc3ss]

in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you. 

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid. 

God, he loves you. 

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear. 

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping. 

“Hm?” 

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch. 

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest. 

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience. 

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand. 

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion. 

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath. 

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them. 

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine. 

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual. 

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours. 

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back. 

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation. 

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak. 

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape. 

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back. 

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It’s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening. 

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago. 

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh. 

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response. 

He loves it when you do that. 

[incognit0slut]

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off. 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air. 

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" 

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control? 

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now. 

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze. 

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused." 

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. 

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room. 

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt. 

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. 

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?" 

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit. 

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you. 

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head.  But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one." 

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds. 

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you. 

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his. 

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor. 

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin. 

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?" 

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you? 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.��

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[littlelamy]

heartbeats with rafe

author's note: i wanted to lean more into a softer, vulnerable side of rafe; it was scrapped because i thought it was a little corny, but i'm still in love with the idea of rafe being calmed down by something as simple as his partner's heartbeat.

rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to relax after a fight. anger simmered in him like a storm that couldn’t pass, whether it was a screaming match with his dad, an argument with his sisters, or some run-in with the pogues. he carried it with him, his fists clenched and his jaw tight, until it burned itself out.

but then there was you.

you were different. with you, the fire in him didn’t rage out of control; it softened, flickering into something gentler. you had a way of grounding him, of pulling him back when he felt like he was spiraling.

tonight, though, the storm followed him home.

he slammed the door behind him, his chest heaving as he stood in the middle of your shared room. his hands were shaking, his mind still running wild from another fight with ward.

you looked up from the bed, your expression calm, even though you could feel the tension radiating off him. “rafe,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the haze in his head.

he shook his head, pacing the room. “i can’t—fuck, i can’t do this,” he muttered, his hands raking through his hair.

you stood slowly, your bare feet silent against the floor as you walked over to him. when you reached him, you placed a hand gently on his chest, feeling the frantic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

“breathe,” you murmured.

his eyes locked on yours, wide and almost desperate. “i can’t—i don’t know how to calm down,” he admitted, his voice cracking.

you guided his hand to your chest, pressing it flat over your heart. “then listen to me,” you whispered.

he froze, his fingers trembling against your skin as he focused on the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. ba-dum. ba-dum. it was soft, sure, and unshaken, the complete opposite of how he felt.

“your heart,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “it always calms me down.”

you smiled faintly, your other hand brushing his cheek. “then let it.”

he exhaled shakily, his hands sliding to your waist as he guided you backward toward the bed.

“can i...?” he asked, his voice quiet, unsure.

you nodded, understanding what he needed without him having to say it. when the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he eased you down slowly, his hands warm and steady.

kneeling beside you, his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt. “i just need to feel closer,” he murmured, almost like he was afraid you’d push him away.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but reassuring.

he tugged your shirt over your head with careful reverence, his touch never rushed or forceful. when his hands found the clasp of your bra, he paused, his gaze searching yours for permission.

you gave him a small nod, and he unhooked it slowly, letting it fall to the floor before leaning down to press his ear against your chest.

his arms wrapped around you as his hands moved gently to cup your chest. his palms were warm against your skin, his touch soft and careful, not possessive but grounding. he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, syncing his breaths with the steady rhythm of your heart.

subconsciously, his thumbs began rubbing slow, soothing circles on your skin. the motion was absentminded, but it made your heart ache with tenderness.

“this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “this is what keeps me together.”

you ran your fingers through his hair, your own heart swelling at how vulnerable he seemed in that moment. “i’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

he tightened his hold on you, his thumbs continuing their gentle movements as he exhaled again, slower this time. “you make me feel like I’m worth something,” he said, his voice breaking.

“you are,” you said firmly. “to me, you’re everything.”

he stayed like that for a long time, letting the steady beat of your heart and the warmth beneath his hands pull him out of the chaos in his mind. when he finally looked up, his blue eyes were clearer, softer.

“thank you,” he said quietly.

“always,” you replied, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

he smiled faintly, his hands never leaving you. his thumbs stilled their motion, but his palms remained warm against your chest, grounding him. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” he said.

“you don’t have to do anything,” you replied, your voice soft but steady. “you just have to let me love you.”

his lips curved into a small smile, his eyes shining with something raw and unspoken. “i’ll try,” he said.

you kissed him then, slow and gentle, a reminder that he didn’t have to face everything alone.

later, as you lay together on the bed, his head resting against your chest, you traced lazy patterns along his back.

“rafe?” you murmured.

“hmm?”

“i love you,” you said softly.

he tilted his head up to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “i love you, y/n,” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

he pressed a kiss to your chest, right where your heart beat steadily beneath your skin, and for the first time that night, he felt at peace.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[dollracha]

𐙚 i want it ⋆  h.js  x fem! reader

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced virgin! reader genre: smut warnings: swearing ⋆ slight corruption kink ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ sorta dubcon ⋆ reader is called “baby” (several times) & “my girl” (once) ⋆ spit kink ⋆ non penetrative sex ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 707 synopsis: you both promised to take it slow, but jisung struggles to keep his word, and you certainly don't mind. author's note: been thinking about this for days this is so incredibly self indulgent its not funny. this is not beta read. this is barely proofread. i'm just a whore. the first 870 or so of yall saw a slightly different version than everyone else onward. i made some slight changes that needed to be reworked for clarity. and for those of you interested, part 2 is linked above!

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

“fuck, ‘m sorry, baby.” jisung whines into your neck as he ruts his cock against your wet panties. he’s got one hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. you’ve both soaked your panties, his precum and the wetness from your pussy make it almost uncomfortably sticky.

“god, ‘m so fuckin’... gross.” he rambles, pulling himself up to spit on his cock. he watches it slide off the side of his tip and down your ass. “making a mess of your poor pussy just to get myself off.”

“hannie…” your moan has him rolling his eyes back. you can’t remember how you ended up beneath him, just that you didn’t want it to stop yet. It wasn’t enough. and yet you were trying to find it in you to tell him to slow down, it’s what you wanted after all. to take it slow, wait until ‘the right time’ for your first time with jisung. that went out the window the moment he started feeling you up today.

“i know… said i'd keep my pretty girl all pure for a little longer.”

but jisung’s cock throbs at the sight of you all defiled. your hair is a mess from when he shoved you down on the bed and had his hands all up in it when he kissed you earlier. your makeup is smudged, mascara messy from the way tears well up in your eyes and spill when his cockhead rubs against your clit just right. your lipstick blurs around your lips from the sloppy kisses you shared. he begged you not to wear a bra this morning when you got dressed, it made your tits even easier for him to access. all he had to do was pull down your little tank top and they were all his. your skirt is pushed up, soft tummy peeking out. and your pussy, so wet for him already and he’s still one layer away. 

“look at you… so nasty f’me.”

“can i take off your panties? please, baby?” jisung stops rutting against your clothed pussy and gives a couple hard taps against your clit. “know it’s dirty, baby. but it’ll feel good, okay?”

all you want at this point is to feel good–screw everything else–so you nod and lift your hips so he can slide your panties off your legs.

You try to shut your legs but jisung is quicker. both of his hands keep your thighs open. “let me see that pretty pussy, don’t hide it from me.” he’s quick to spit on it again, and this time you can’t help the high pitched moan that escapes your lips. 

“did your exes ever spit on it, baby?”

you shake your head, hands coming to cover your flushed face. nobody’s ever touched you like jisung has. you've kissed your exes, dry humped, even came from it too. but jisung's the only one who's touched you so intimately, and a part of him hopes it stays that way.

“like it?” he asks and you don’t respond. is it wrong to say you liked it? it’s gross, you think. it’s so so gross… but is it wrong?

warm saliva hits your pussy again, this time you can feel jisung’s breath on you. 

“do you like it when i spit on your pussy, baby?”

“... yes…” you respond, and finally pry your arms away from your face. jisung’s laying down on the bed, hands pressed against your thighs to keep them open. he can’t decide what's a sweeter sight, your glistening pussy or your wide eyes. for now, his eyes lock with yours.

“fuck…” jisung whispers. his eyes fall back to your pussy with a smile. he licks his lips and lets his head fall against the blankets.

“ji?” you reach for his hand, and as soon as he feels your hand on his he’s grasping it, and raising his head up to kiss your knuckles. 

“i know you wanna take it slow… but please, please can i eat you out, baby? ‘s all i want.”

jisung agreed to take it slow, but he's got you half dressed and soaking your bed. maybe you should be mad, but god, the pleasure jisung was giving you was addicting. you weren’t afraid to give yourself away to him at this point.

“i want it.” you nod, and jisung kisses your hand again.

“gotta give my girl what she wants then, yeah?”

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[gyaruhana]

Hi 🫣

A request for Choi Su-Bong and Cho Sang-Woo <3

They're both in the same game. (Sangwoo didn't die in s1 and came back to earn more for his debts) They both have eyes for reader, once they realise this, they both pair up and do whatever they can to get reader on their side. Flirting, helping them in the games etc...Eventually reader is won over by them.

You can make it smutty, if you like. I don't really know how to request smut, so I hope that this is enough for you to work with! Tysm 💞💞

Choi Su-Bong/Thanos + Cho Sangwoo - Three is, in fact, NOT a crowd

Synopsis: Cho Sangwoo and Thanos had nothing in common. Well, they didn't until you came around and stole their hearts.

A/N: I may have made this too smutty but i saw the chance for double penetration and knew nobody else would ever be writing dp with Thanos and Sangwoo so-

Warnings: smutty content, fingering, anal fingering, eating out, double penetration, use of whore,

Sangwoo and Thanos did not have anything in common. Sangwoo was a quiet, reserved man who has suffered plenty of loss while Thanos was loud and… very, very high. No one would ever expect them to be spending time together since they were oh so different. Not to mention the only interaction they had was a stare down when Thanos casually pushed somebody during Red Light, Green Light resulting in the death of three people.

However, when you came into the picture you caught both of their attentions immediately. They were drawn to you like moths to a flame. 

It started off small. 

Thanos would be close to you most of the time while Sangwoo would keep a watchful eye on you and protect you from a distance. Occasionally, when Thanos wasn’t around to keep you company, Sangwoo would swoop in instead and talk with you. It only became apparent to both of them that they shared the same romantic feelings for you when they both handed you their food at the same time while also telling you; “Take my food, you need it more than me,” in sync. 

From there, it started. An agreement was made between the two to protect you at all costs while also trying to steal your heart that they could keep for the two of them. At least one of them was near you all the time since then and they refused to keep you out of their sight.

As of now, the third game had finished and you were walking back into the main room. Thanos and Sangwoo were close behind you, maybe even a little too close. 

“Are you okay? No injuries?” Sangwoo asks as he leans down slightly to talk in your ear. “Of course she’s fine. After all, the great Thanos was here to protect our girl,” Thanos spoke as he threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to his side. Sangwoo shook his head at Thanos’s words before matching his pace with yours so he could be close to you too.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you speak with a smile as you look over at Sangwoo. “Good,” he says with a nod. He probably would’ve gone crazy if you had gotten hurt somehow. Both of them would honestly. You were too important - too precious to get hurt. 

You all took a seat somewhere in the back corner of the place, away from the rest of the players so you could relax for a while and wind down from the last game which was actually rather stressful. Per usual, Sangwoo and Thanos were all over you. They were ridiculously close to you, making flirty comments, touching you in places that they know made you nervous. It was all planned. 

This went on long after the food was given and enjoyed. It’s like they physically could not have their hands off of you or they would lose it. Not that you were complaining. You didn't mind having two guys who you were definitely crushing on touching you.

You put your food down next to you before standing up making both of them look up at you immediately as their hands that had previously been on you fell to their side. It was clear neither of them were very happy that they weren't touching you now. 

“I'm just going to the bathroom before lights out, I'll be back,” you speak before walking off. Not once did their eyes leave you as you walked away until you were out of sight. 

“I think we should do it tonight,” Thanos suddenly speaks up as he looks over at Sangwoo with a confident smirk. Sangwoo turns his head to look at him with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Do what?” He asks although he already had an idea of what Thanos meant.

“You know what I mean, man. We can finally strike. C'mon, she's clearly into us,” Thanos spoke with a grin as he scooched closer to Sangwoo. He was confident that you had feelings for them now after all they had done for you.

“You sure? Wouldn't want you to scare her off,” Sangwoo replied as he looked away towards the door you last disappeared through. Of course, he was eager to finally make you his but he didn't make it obvious. At least, he thought he didn't.

“Me? Scare her off? You're the one with the dark and brooding aura. What are you? Batman?” Thanos joked as he kept his eyes on Sangwoo. All he got in response to that was a sharp glare before Sangwoo looked away. There was a brief silence as if he was thinking before he sighed and shook his head.

“Fine, we'll have her tonight. After lights out,” Sangwoo spoke as he looked at the timer on the wall. Thanos turned his head to also look and let out a frustrated groan upon seeing the time.

“There's still 20 minutes left, man. I can't wait that long,” he says with annoyance. He had been patient for the past few days and he couldn't wait any longer to have you in his arms. Sangwoo looked at Thanos with an unimpressed look, clearly not amused by Thanos's impatience.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he says with a barely noticeable smirk. Thanos let's out another sigh before running a hand through his hair. Fine, he could wait. Just a little bit longer. Then, he'd finally have you.

As the sound of a door opening reached their ears, they unanimously turned their heads toward it so they could see you again. You noticed them staring and waved at them as you started to walk in their direction. Thanos gave a rather excited wave back and gestured for you to come over.

When you sat down between them again, you could feel something was different. Was it the way they kept subtly glancing at each other? The way their hands instantly made its home on your body? Who knows. But there was certainly something different. 

“Hey, y'know I've been thinking about something,” Thanos suddenly spoke as he put his arm around your shoulder and looked over at you. “I feel like we haven't spent enough.. time together. You feel me?” He continues as he keeps his eyes on you. You didn't quite understand what he meant by that because you had spent the last few days together constantly. 

“Mm, I think you're right,” Sangwoo suddenly speaks up and you turn your head to look at him. Okay, they were up to something- you could tell that much. The question was; what were they up to? Before you can ask, Sangwoo's hand finds its place on your thigh.

“Maybe we should spend more time together. Do you agree, Thanos?” Sangwoo spoke again as he looked at Thanos. The grin on his face paired with the eager nod when Sangwoo spoke had your heart running in circles. You weren't entirely sure if they meant literal quality time or ‘quality time’ in the sexual sense but the idea of them wanting to fuck you was enough to make you nervous.

“C'mon, baby. Don't be shy,” Thanos speaks as he stands up and goes right in front of you. Sangwoo's hands move to your shoulders as he shifts behind you. Your face flushed at the premise of what they were suggesting. If it wasn't obvious before, it was now.

“Yeah, don't be shy,” Sangwoo whispered into your ear. Right on cue, the lights go off and the three of you are consumed in darkness. Usually, the darkness scared you because of the fear something else was lingering. This time, you were much less afraid because you knew what was in the darkness. Them.

“We'll make you feel good. You can trust us,” you hear Thanos's voice ring out as he crouches down in front of you. His hand slowly places itself just below your neck before trailing down to the hem of your shirt. Meanwhile, Sangwoo didn't waste any time and immediately started leaving kisses on your neck. 

You can feel your shirt slowly lift up before being pulled off of you. “Fuck, you're even prettier underneath,” Thanos says quietly before he leans forward and starts to leave kisses along your chest. The contrast of Sangwoo's soft sucking on you neck with Thanos's harsh bites across your chest was overwhelming. Even though their styles were different, it was clear they both wanted to devour you.

Sangwoo's hand slowly slides down to the waistband of your pants before he pushes his hand into them. You tense up slightly when you feel his hand push your underwear to the side. “Relax.. no need to be so tense,” Sangwoo speaks quietly into your ear. He teases your entrance causing a moan to escape you but Thanos quickly covers it with a harsh kiss. 

“You gotta be quiet, babe,” he says in between the kiss. His hand goes over to your neck and squeezes it slightly. While you were distracted by Thanos's rough kissing, Sangwoo slid a finger into your hole and slowly started to thrust it in and out. The feeling made you moan into Thanos's mouth and, in response, he shoved his tongue into your mouth to make you keep quiet.

Sangwoo continued to thrust his finger in and out as he whispered words into your ear. “You're so wet already. You're just a whore for us, aren't you?” He whispers before pushing a second finger inside. He knew exactly what he was doing when his thumb started to rub your clit. All his movements were nothing short of rough. 

“Fuck, when's it my turn? It's not fair if you're the only one who gets to touch her,” Thanos spoke with slight annoyance. He didn't appreciate having to wait. “You can have her when she cums on my fingers,” Sangwoo says as he begins to thrust his fingers faster. While part of him wanted to take his time with you, he wasn't opposed to skipping right ahead and ruining you.

“After you cum, you're gonna sit on my face and I'm gonna taste it, yeah?” Thanos speaks into your ear with a smirk on his face. His dirty words were enough to bring you to the edge as you finally released on Sangwoo's finger with a moan. Sangwoo's fingers continued to thrust into your hole for a few moments before he pulled out.  

“Christ, you're so fucking dirty. Releasing all your cum on my fingers like a whore,” Sangwoo spoke as he brought his fingers to your mouth. He shoved them in and made you lick him clean before pulling them out. “Your turn,” he said as he looked at Thanos.

Thanos practically jumped on you the moment he was told he could. He pulled you up before sitting down where you were originally and then pulling you down on his lap. “You're gonna ride my face, yeah? Let me taste you?” Thanos says as he looks at you with a small smirk. When you nod your head, he immediately grinned in a way that made you feel you were nothing more than prey for two predators.

He quickly stood you up to tug your pants off before laying back on one of the beds and pulling you on top of him. He grabbed your hips and forced you to hover over his face. “Fuck, look at your cunt. You're so wet for us, huh?” Thanos says mockingly before pushing you down onto his face before you could respond. You let out a high pitch whine and Sangwoo is quick to kiss you to hide it. The feeling of Thanos's tongue dipping in between your wet folds was was amazing. He clearly knew what he was doing.

Sangwoo pulled away from the kiss before walking behind you. “Your ass looks a little lonely” Sangwoo speaks as he brings a hand down to your ass and gently teases your hole. You certainly didn't expect him to try anything with your other hole but you were poorly mistaken when he suddenly starts putting a finger there. His other hand goes to cover your mouth to keep you quiet as you grow accustomed to the feeling of a finger entering your ass while Thanos continues to eat you out like he'd been starved.

Sangwoo slowly started thrusting his finger in and out of your ass to loosen you up. “You know why I'm doing this?” Sangwoo suddenly asks. When you don't respond, he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. “Answer me,” he says firmly as he glares at you. 

You shook your head no and he immediately let go of your chin roughly. “you'll see,” is all he says before thrusting a second finger in and once again covering your mouth. The feeling was enough to tip you over the edge for a second time as you released onto Thanos’s face. 

“fuck..” Thanos mutters quietly before pulling you off his face. Sangwoo pulls his fingers out so as not to overstimulate you as Thanos sits up. “God, I need to fuck your tight pussy. You're gonna let me, yeah?” Thanos says as he moves you off of him and starts pulling his pants off. 

“She's going to let both of us fuck her,” Sangwoo spoke up making Thanos pause for a moment. “..You're dirtier than I thought,” Thanos spoke with a smirk before taking off his boxers too. You weren't sure what they were planning but they clearly had something up their sleeve with the way they glanced at each other. 

“come here,” Thanos said as he grabbed your hips and pulled you on top of him. He leans back before lining himself up with your entrance. “I'm gonna fuck my cock into you and you're going to take it, yeah? You're gonna be a good girl for me,” he says before slowly lowering you onto his cock. He lets out a groan as he feels you squeeze him - practically choking his dick.

He barely gives you any time to adjust to his length before starting to rock his hips up into yours. While you were distracted by the pleasure of having Thanos’s dick inside you, you didn't notice Sangwoo taking off his own pants right behind you. He pulled his boxers down just partially, enough to reveal his cock before he crawled behind you. His hands went to your shoulders and pushed you forward so you'd fall onto Thanos’s chest. Thanos didn't stop thrusting as he smirked. Oh, he couldn't wait to see you come undone.

Suddenly, you felt something press against your ass and you immediately knew what it was. You were going to say something but Thanos thrust into you deeper making you moan instead. Sangwoo’s tip caught against your hole and he took the opportunity to push in slowly. Thanos’s hand went to your throat as he squeezed it to keep you quiet. “shushh, you can take our cocks, baby,” he spoke as Sangwoo let out a grunt at how tight your ass was.

“fuck, loosen up. I can barely fit this tight cunt,” he spoke as he continued to push in. Running out of patience, he thrust the rest of his length in harshly making you cry out. Thanos was still thrusting up into you and it was so overwhelming to have two cocks inside of you. 

Sangwoo pulled out slightly before thrusting back in and he began a slow pace to try to ease any pain. “God, she's so tight, huh?” Thanos mumbled as he kept slamming his hips into yours. “It's perfect. She was fucking made for our cocks,” Sangwoo responded as he began to pick up the pace. Thanos laughed at Sangwoo’s words, finding them amusing.

“she's such a fucking whore. Our whore,” He spoke as he let out a grunt. “fuck, I'm gonna fill you with my cum, baby. Take it,” Thanos spoke as his thrusts became sloppy. “hold fucking on. If you cum, she will too. I'm not close yet,” Sangwoo said with annoyance as he started fucking into your tight ass faster. 

Thanos let out a groan and tried to slow down his pace to prolong the release. As much as he wanted to cum right now, he knew it's feel a million times better for you if he just waited. “I'm almost there,” Sangwoo says before he starts leaving kisses on your neck- biting and sucking at it. “fuck okay. You ready baby? Ready for our cum?” Thanos spoke as he began thrusting quicker again. All the confirmation they needed was the nod you gave while you cried out from the pleasure. 

With one final hard thrust, Thanos and Sangwoo release their cum as deep as they could inside of you. You creamed on their cocks as you went limp on Thanos. He laughed at you before patting your hair gently. “what a good whore. Taking our cum like that,” Thanos spoke as Sangwoo slowly pulled out. “So good for us,” Sangwoo reaffirmed before sitting up next to you. He rubbed your back soothingly to help you come down from your high as Thanos slowly pulled out of you.

“I think we should do that again soon,”

[iid-smile]

★ — doing the 'we listen and we don't judge' challenge with bllk boys!

isagi, bachira, karasu, nagi, rin, chigiri

content — maybe ooc especially for karasu, nagi is a red flag, underwear mentioned in karasu's, bachira is gross (please beware) 😧

a/n: not my idea, but i dont know if i should tag or not 🫣 trying to write out what im imagining in my head is the WORST so pls bare with me 🙏🙏 also there might be mistakes bc my grammar is shit

★ — isagi yoichi

"you know how we were playing mario kart the other day?" his thumbs twirl around each other amid his struggle to make eye contact with you. he's always felt bad lying to your face, but that specific time, he didn't really lie, only hid it from you. "and you lost really bad on that one map?"

at least it's better than what you were expecting. you've seen some couples break up over this trend despite being picture-perfect, and you didn't want to be victim to that curse either. "uh huh..." you nod.

"i searched up where the best shortcuts were and spent three hours every day for a month practicing speed runs."

"nooooo!" your hand lands on his as disbelief washes over you. "baby, why would you do that?" betrayal. betrayal. your own boyfriend has kept something like this a secret for how long?

"i'm sorry!" was it selfish to admit that some weight was lifted off his shoulders too? or that he's actually done that with the majority of the maps? no, he won't say that. "i just—"

"that's my favourite map too..." you pout up at him. you weren't actually that upset, but you knew that looking the part would earn you some cuddles and kisses, which you were craving right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry." his arms wrap around you as he whispers out soft apologies, his lips pressing on your temple. "i'll teach you what i know, okay?"

★ — bachira meguru

"we listen and we don't—"

"i dropped your toothbrush in the toilet three times in a row and i didn't clean it afterwards."

"..."

"what?" bachira's eyebrows raise in confusion, slightly cutting out of the frame as his feet fiddle around as he plays with the electric yellow tips of his hair. "oh! also once there was no toilet paper, but i really really needed to dookie, and only your towel was there, so..."

oh, you don't even want to touch him. or yourself. or anything at this rate. mind you, that event happened yesterday, not a long time ago. "seriously!?"

"what?" his innocent act strikes again, looking at you with big eyes as you struggle to wrap your head around whatever he's just said. and why the hell are they all linked to the bathroom? is that why he spends hours in there at a time?

"you told me that was chocolate!" you gasp, the walls guarding over the truth crumbling down all at once.

"some of it was, yeah. i think i'm lactose intolerant."

oh, god...

★ — karasu tabito

"what, i just say something i've never told you?" karasu muses, his eyes on you rather than the camera as he leans on the kitchen counter, head nestled on his fist.

he hums mindlessly, mind reeling through memories. what hasn't he told you? the words 'i can't think of anything' remain on the tip of his tongue, but after a while, his eyebrows twitch. it was certainly something, but that's what you wanted, right?

"i've worn your underwear once... i think." he admits, acting like that was an ordinary thing to say.

um... what? "what do you mean 'you think'?" in your 'rage', you feebly punch at his chest, only for it to be caught with ease by him.

he knows full well that he could overpower you if he wanted to, but he lets you have your fun, or frustration, pushing back on your hands with equal strength. "no, no, you said no questions." he chuckles, finding your efforts to fight back adorable.

"but—!"

"that's your rule, not mine."

★ — nagi seishiro

"we listen and we don't—" you tug on the sleeve of nagi's hoodie, trying to coax him into sitting up. "sei, at least try to look at the camera."

for a few seconds, there's a few mumbled 'no...'s from him, as well as your near desperate pleas for him to at least attempt to do something for you for once. every time you want to do a cute or funny tiktok trend with him, it's always a struggle for to get up, or in most cases, listen to you at all.

right when you least expect it, he has his response. "i used to hate you a lot. maybe still do. there. are we done?"

your jaw immediately drops. "sei, you can't just..." you're hurt, confused, conflicted and... now you don't know what to do. should you continue? should you cut the video and ask for him to explain himself?

"that's what you wanted me to say." his voice perks up from behind you as he plops onto his back again. the sound of his game fills your ears once more as you're still stunned in silence, only for him to pour more salt onto the wound. "or do you want me to continue?"

yeah, you are not posting this.

★ — itoshi rin

rin blinks at you in confusion as you try to break down the trend to him, his eyes unusually wide as they remained trained on yours. he's just so lost, because why would he ever want to say something mean directly to you just for a funny video?

once it's his turn, you have to give him a little nudge, signalling that it's his turn. honestly, he doesn't even know what to do, even after your little demonstration before him.

he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, but nothing comes to mind. "i like it when you wear my jerseys."

you almost wanted to melt from how cute his tiny confession was right then and there. you inferred as much, but hearing him say it out loud "that's not something i can judge, rin."

"i don't really have anything to say." his gaze drifts around the room, landing on the camera for a split second before looking away.

scoffing, your body turns towards him. how does he not? "you judge me all the time!" you blurt out, remembering all of the times you've been a target of his foul mouth.

"that's because you're weird. sometimes."

"sometimes— you know what, it's better than what i've heard you say to certain people." literally everybody he knows fits under the 'certain people' umbrella.

★ — chigiri hyoma

you were a little scared, because chigiri seemed a bit too on board with the idea. knowing him, he's got a lot of stuff to say, bad or worse. hell, he could insult your entire existence and that would be the genuine truth, based on the gossip you've had together, but he's not that mean to you. right?

he looks you dead in the eye. "i've made a pros and cons list about you five times, and the last one was a week ago."

"hyo!" you immediately exclaim, playfully pushing his side. not as bad as you were expecting, but it certainly stung.

he simply shrugs his shoulders. "i mean, there wasn't any cons the last time, so..." you both stare at each other, and his lips thin into a straight line, pulling off the most unbothered expression that he could.

"you're lying." and he's never been a good liar either.

ignoring you, he turns back to the camera, somehow managing to hold back his giggles as he refuses to elaborate. "we listen and we don't—"

"chigiri hyoma."

"we listen and— ow!" the video cuts off with you delivering a barrage of hits against his arm. don't worry, they were all light and they didn't hurt; as you claim, not him.