#you could not keep that shit away from me

[satorena]

༊*·˚ D!CK OFF LIMITS !?

bad ☆ summary. why won’t he let you suck his dīck?

warnings. explicit content. 18+. foul language. cunningulus. fīngerīng. premature ejacūlatīon. semi public sēx. usage of toys. facials. mirror sēx. dom/sub undertones. preestablished relationships. reader is a fiend for his dick. afab!reader. could be angsty at some point ? fwb to . . . lovers ? 7.4k words (kill me now).

rena's ☆ note. this idea came to me while i was drunk.

you wonder if gojo thinks you have gingivitis.

that thought was unlikely, as he was always eager to shove his tongue down your mouth, tongues sloshing and secreting saliva as his hands roamed between your thighs, knuckles deep into your cunt.

then maybe he assumed you were a biter— which would be highly hypocritical of him, as he’s known to get on his knees in the nearest bathroom stall and flip your skirt up, push your panties to the side and plunge his canines into the flesh of your ass before tongue fucking you.

well, maybe he simply didn’t get off on pleasing you— yeah you knew it wasn’t that one, if the way he thrusted his bulge in the air whenever your thighs wrapped around his head for relief every time he ate you out said anything.

you simply didn’t understand— what man would refuse receiving head after giving the nastiest of it?

your fingers clawed at a snowy pile of hair, back arched as you ground your hips into his mouth. he ate your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and coordinated, as his lips latched onto yours as if he’d die without your taste in his mouth

his tongue swiped up your juices as he lapped at your folds, dragging the top of his wet muscles against your core, nibbling at your puffy clit. gojo was on his knees, moaning like a slut in between your thighs as you used him to chase your orgasm.

“ngh, fuck— right there baby,” you mewled, toes curling as your back hit the cold wall of the bathroom stall. his hands gripped at your ass, caressing and squeezing the mounds to pull you in tighter than you’d already been. your mind felt hazy, so overcome with lust that you were ready to burst your dam down his throat. “oh m’ goddd, so fuckin’ close toruuu!”

“give it all t’me pretty baby,” his words come out muffled, only pulling away just slightly. his rosy lips are glossed your arousal and his saliva, a consistency so thick it connects a strand of fluid from your bottom lips to his own. his skin is blotched in lust, cerulean eyes dazed in awe. “cum in my mouth princess, needa taste you.”

your orgasm washes over you before you can even register it, a sensation so powerful you cry out as your dam erupts. splurges of your essence shoots from your cunt down to his mouth, and as you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, you notice so does he. his fingernails dig into the flesh of your skin, pinning you down as he humbly welcomes your cum.

“s’gooddd, shit toru!” you feel your bottom lip quivering, limbs twitching from overstimulation as he continues to ravish you. your groin tingles in heat, body weak as it succumbs to the pleasure gojo gives it. you feel weak, a feeling you’re never able to adapt to no matter how much he attempts to prepare you for it. “uhn uhn— too much, can’t take it!” your head shakes from side to side, nails clawing at his scalp as you attempt to push him away.

the pad of his fingers slip from your ass to snake in between your legs, spanking your wet pussy thrice to keep you in check, and your knees crumbles. gojo latches his lips at your clit once more, and you feel the world blackout. “stop that— fuckin’ take it baby. i know my good girl can take it.”

he leaves you no choice, eyes trailing upwards to land on your figure, the dip in your back so sinful that you feel as though both your bodies have merged into one. his tongue works so deep into you, it feels as though you’re both puzzle pieces that were made to connect to one another. your thighs are quivering around his head, and you feel your back slipping against the wall. shit.

“mmhm, nooo, ‘m gonna cum again!” you pout, tears built at your lash line now streaking down your cheeks. it’s all too much— the sensation so raw that you look for an escape. you want to push him off, to take a breather and regain your composure. but he’s looking at you with such expectations, eyes shimmering with eagerness as he lifts both your legs onto his shoulder for support.

he manhandles your body like it’s nothing— like you weigh nothing. your limp body now slides upwards, higher up in the air than you’d been a second ago. gojo rises to his full height and motorboats into your dripping cunt.

you wail out, head throw back against the stall as a desperate mouth gnaws at your folds. you’re sure he’s dripping from his mouth to his chin, a mixture of fluids so prominent that it dribbles down to the marble floor. “haaah, oh shit— baby, i can’t— fuck, y’eat my pussy sooo fuckin’ good!” the praises flow past your tongue so naturally, hands torn between pushing and pulling away from the painful pleasure. “nghhh, i— ‘m gonna— holy shit!”

your back hits the wall in waves of full body twitches, your cunt clamping down on his tongue as you weakly splurts drops of more cum. fat tears stain your cheeks, blood rushing hotly from head to toe, spraying gojo’s face in your essence.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” he groans into your pussy, almost more drunk on the taste of you than you are. he flicks his tongue up and down, dragging your orgasm as far as he can, completely enthralled by the desperate thrusts of your hips into his face. you’re smearing his face with your fluids, and from the fucked out look on your face— eyes crossed and tongue lolled out, he decides this might be the best way to go. “there we go— yeah baby, jus’ like that, mhmm.”

the timeline from your coming down to actually coming down to the floor is all blurry, but you’re barely able to stand on your two feet when you feel his hand cup at your chin tightly. his index finger raises your face to stare up at his, all moist from fluids and humidity but you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

his lips meet yours desperately, lips sloshing over one another as the taste of your cum now sits atop your taste pallets. his free hand snakes around your waist, holding you still as you lazily loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

he’s so good at it all— the nibbles of his teeth at your bottom lip making your legs go weak, stomach churning in more lust. he smells like a mixture of you and his expensive cologne— so satoru like, that you’re positive if this keeps going, you may blackout on the cold floor of this bathroom stall in the club.

he kisses you like he’s got something to prove, and eventually your lungs are filled with his provided oxygen, and you truly believe you’re going to pass out. you pull just slightly away, much to his disdain. he whines, tip of your noses just barely an inch away as you pant over his cupid’s bow. “fuck.”

“mmhm, that good?” gojo teases, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk you’re too familiar with. you don’t have it in you to flick his forehead.

instead, you opt with sighing. “that good.” your hands trail down his nape, nails grazing at the sensitive skin beneath his undercut, scratching and lightly pulling at his locks. he shudders at your touch, leaning forward to rest his sweat forehead against yours.

your touches lower from his shoulders down to his chest, grazing your fingers over his perky buds, teasing his nipples. he’s so touch starved, jaw slackened as he moans— breath warm as it fans your face. your hands begins to lower down to his hips, seductive touches that has him biting his lips, hips instinctively jerking to meet with your light grazing.

you keep steady eye contact with him as your hands finally land at his raging bulge. the material over his hard-on is damp in his pre cum, and it feels hot beneath your touch. with a slight tilt of your head, “lemme take care of you, toru.”

you can see him battling his own thoughts. his pupils widen in lust, orbs swimming in excitement as you palm his erection more precisely. he’s twitching beneath your cupped hand, humping against your palm as his throat erupts a desperate pant.

you wonder if today’s the day he’s finally going to let you see his dick— to let you swallow him whole and please him just as he does with you. you want to get on your knees and take him so far down your throat that tears build and you force gags back down. you’re sure he’s all pretty and pink, a length to match his abnormally tall height and girth ready to stretch your throat muscles.

but as always, just like the night before, he chuckles and shakes his head. he’s refusing you again, hands gripping at your waist to push you away from him.

“you know i can’t do that baby,” he sighs, a small smile appearing on his wet lips. you can tell he’s frustrated with himself, so unsure as the pad of his thumbs rub the bare skin of your waist. you jut your bottom lip in annoyance, although expecting his refusal. “maybe next time, yeah?”

you’re annoyed as you push him away, pushing your skirt back down so it falls down your ass. and you’re sure he notices too. you don’t object when he grabs the toilet paper from the stall to clean the left over mess between your thighs— though your arms do cross over the flimsy material of your tight top over your chest.

“mhm, sure.”

☆ ☆

about a week later, you’re on all fours on his annoyingly large king-sized bed, hands clawing at his sheets as you push your hips back into his fingers. he’s scissoring your cunt open, knuckles-deep in and every precise thrusts has you seeing stars.

“yesyesyes!” you nod your head feverishly, babbles slipping past your tongue and dribbling down the damp sheets beneath you. “oh m’god, feels sooo fuckin’ good, ngh!” there you sat naked and exposed, getting the life fucked out of you by his fingers alone, a length so impossible that you’re convinced his index and middle finger eventually bump your cervix with how deep he works himself into you.

gojo lands a few kisses at the back of your thighs, kneeled down at the edge of his bed as he twists his fingers into your cunt. he’s enamoured by the sloppiness of your tight pussy gripping at his digits so desperately, a squelching sound so harmonious it has him rubbing his own thighs against one another.

“face down, baby.” gojo commands, his free hand coming up to press at your lower back. you obey his order, pressing your cheek down against his sheets, arms silently thanking the man for the break of supporting your body up. you mewl when you feel him plunging his teeth into the soft skin of your ass, before running a wet tongue over the stinging pain. “there’s my good girl. heh, such an obedient lil’ thing.”

you lay pressed against his bed as you take his ruthless pounding, the tip of his fingers reaching the gummy spot that has stars dancing at the back of your eyelids. god, he always knew how to make a mess out of you— your body his temple, a book he’s dead over a million times and has learned to memorize.

“cute lil hole jus’ seems sooo enticing,” you feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your twitching rim, waves of warm air tickling the muscle. it doesn’t surprise you when you feel his wet tongue caressing your tight hole with light touches, just pushing slightly past unspoken boundaries. your stomach tightens the more relaxed he becomes, lapping from the bottom of your cunt up to your asshole, savouring you whole as he works himself into your clingy pussy.

“t-toru, oh yes baby— ‘m gonna cummm!” you whine, sobbing when your orgasm finally does catch up to you— as if he hadn’t already known. you walls clamp down on his fingers for dear life, folds twitching as they secrete your honeyed essence all over his hand and down to his sheets.

gojo never lets up, stringing along as he encourages you even further, “that’s it babyyyy, there we go.” drool slips past his kiss-bitten lips and down to your sopping wet cunt, tongue still working its way at the tightness of your forbidden hole. you look so fucking cute all shaken up, barely keeping yourself together as your moans echoes off his walls and fade into the stillness of the night.

he’s so fucking hard it hurts, but he’d take seeing you wrecked and ruined by his hands alone over the selfish tendencies of asking you to take care of him back. and he knew you’d known that already, if the way your body immediately lurches forward to melt into the sloth ess of silk sheets beneath you said anything.

you feel large hands grip at your thighs, trailing up before landing on your ass. he spreads apart your cheeks, sticky residue spreading your pussy lips with a sinful sound. you shiver, the cold breeze hitting your cunt a mix of overstimulated senses hitting at once.

he collects your liquids at the pad of his fingers, before wrapping his tongue around the digits. he nearly cums at your taste alone, “fuckkk, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet, princess.” and he pushes forward to drag his tongue along the evidence of your orgasm on your thighs, trailing up to the cleft of your ass and to your cunt, cleaning up after his mess.

you know better, and yet you still try anyway. with a shy tilt of your head, you look back to the starved man between your thighs and offer the prettiest smile you can, cheeks flushed in heat and lips glossed in saliva. “y’gonna let me take care of you yet?”

it doesn’t surprise you when he chuckles, releasing the fat of your cunt from his mouth with a nasty pop! to rise up to his full height, bending over your body to entrap yours within his arms. your back arches as you tilt your head backwards to meet his gaze, boobs pressed up together.

he stares at you with an unreadable expression, though the prominent dimple sitting in his cheek pops. “this was more than enough for me, ya little minx.”

☆ ☆

“if we get c-caught, i’ll fucking kill you.” you whisper, hands curling at the edge of his office desk. your eyes repeatedly darted towards the unlocked door, right before you, where anybody could walk into his office and see their boss on his knees for you during his lunch break, eating you out.

he pulls away with a dreamy sigh, a firm grip on your ass jiggling the cheek. “a man can’t enjoy his lunch in peace? not my fault ‘m starving.” there’s a filthy string of your essence and his saliva that connects from his lips to your lower ones.

“get real!” you hiss at him, despite the familiar feeling of heat licking at your limbs. “you asked me to bring your lunch and— ohhh!” your words soon die in your throat as your head rolls forward, and your bottom lip now tucked beneath your teeth. the warmth slide of his tongue at your clit has your nails scratching the surface of his desk, and your back curves into him.

“you worry too much,” gojo mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your pussy. he feels it throb against him, as he hums and runs the pad of his fingers against your messy folds. you shudder at the stimulation, your hips subconsciously grinding down on his fingers to follow his wavelength. with a smug smile, “see? at least yer pussy’s honest wimme— just lemme take care of her.”

“f-fucking bastard.” you grit through your teeth, though you make no objections. you could act high and mighty all you wanted, you never pushed him away whenever he offered to please you. it was almost like he solely got off on it— your pleasure alone. “i h-hate you.”

“love you too, princess.” he smirks, and you decide to brush off the tight squeeze at your heart at his words.

his tongue fucked into your hole yet again, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. you really couldn’t get enough of this— of him. you’d repay him your gratitudes if he’d let you. you’d push him back, lay him down and suck his dick eagerly if only he’d let you. you wonder the length of his cock, if it curves, how flushed his tip must get or how much pre leaks from his slit. you want it so bad, and fuck if only he’d let you. but,

he doesn’t.

he gives and gives but never takes. he’ll call you and tells you he’s in dire need of eating you out— of making you cum, and the minute you return the same energy, he finds an excuse to walk away. you’re slowly losing your mind— you crave the taste of him on your tongue, to hear how whiney he sounds once his tip hits the back of your throat, or how pretty he’d look with his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and hips thrusting uncontrollably into your mouth.

“toruuu,” you whine, tilting your head back. tears build in your eyes as they accumulate at your lash line. your bottom lip juts, a soft pout resting on your lips as you flutter your lashes at the man behind you. even with a mouth full of your pussy, his eyes never lie. “c’mon, lemme return the— ngh, favour,” you feel a beat of a pause at your words, and you egg it on further. “i know you’re rock hard. . . you c-can put it in, i won’t, mmhm—mind.”

he swears he cums. he swears he feels his balls tighten and release hot and thick strings of cum in his slacks, briefs tainted white with shame. you were going to be the death of him— you and your doe eyes, glossy lips and perky ass. it grows sticky between his thighs, but his hips twitch as his throat erupts a guttural groan.

“you can’t just fucking say that,” gojo whines, nuzzling his nose into the cleft of your ass. he’s whimpering against your skin, breath warm and moist as his panting grows heavier by the second. you shake your hips against his face, batting your full lashes, and he groans even louder. “you have no idea what you do to me—fucking hell.”

“enlighten me then.” you reach your hand out to fluff his pile of damp hair. he instinctively leans into your touch, peppering kisses all over your skin. you’d never thought you’d have the gojo satoru on his knees for you, demanding you let him please you. “let me suck your dick toru, ‘m real good at it.”

his breath hitches in his throat and you’re positive you’ve finally got him. he’s going to cave in and sit on his office chair, pull his pants down and let you handle his mess. he’s going to realize he’s wasted plenty of time pushing the idea away the second you swallow his length whole and—

“i’m sure you are,” gojo speaks, but you can tell there’s a but following. you sigh, and he offers a sheepish smile in return. “but you know ‘m good here. just wanna make you feel good— your pleasure is mine, i promise. trust me on that, yeah?”

all arguments are thrown out the window the instant his lips latch back onto your sloppy ones.

☆ ☆

“uhn uhn. . . ‘s too muchhh!” you whine, squirming in his lap in attempts to run away. your clit ached almost painfully, repeatedly abused by the vibrations of the toy gojo had stimulating. the soft hums of the vibrator echoed in the room in harmony with your pleads, but gojo was a sadist and unfortunately you might’ve been a masochist. “c-can’t cum anymore!”

“aweee, but of course you can!” he kisses the sensitive skin on your neck, before nuzzling his nose into the crook. his legs spread wider to further open your shaky ones, and his free hand cups at your breast. “you pussying out on me, baby?”

no, you were not. “of c-course not,” you muster to glare at him through the reflection of the mirror before you both. piercing blue eyes never left your body for a second, drinking up every reaction you had to offer him. you nearly felt . . . shy at his gaze. “just hurts a little, fuckkk, you mean b-bitch.”

“mmhm.” gojo nods, fingers tweaking at the buds of your stiff nipples. he rolls the bud between his knuckles, drawing out broken moans out of you as the consistent buzz of the vibrator at your pussy doesn’t let up. he presses another kiss, at your temple, “you’re my good girl, i don’t expect otherwise.”

you bite your lip, cheeks flushing in what feels like embarrassment. him and his damn praises. he knows what he’s doing to you, rosy lips tugging into that smirk as his facial expression scream smug. you wish you could punch the bastard right in the face, but that thought is quickly gone when he pinches hard at your tits.

“shittt,” you mewl, grinding your hips down on his. you feel his bulge poking at your ass— so hard and prominent, proof of his arousal. his lap is drenched in your juices, evidence of multiple rounds seeping into the material of his sweatpants. “so fuckin’ good, hnng, you’re sooo fuckin’ good to me.” you raise an arm to grab at the base of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft locks.

you ooze sex appeal, everything you do and say so erotic, and gojo is easily your slave. “yeah?” he mumbles into your skin, though he looks at your reflection through snowy lashes. your back arches sinfully, ass pressed so snuggly against his lap and your pussy leaking buckets worth of cum. “tell me, what else am i?”

the vibrator attacking your clit has your left leg shaking uncontrollably, the knot in your stomach quickly tightening. you chew on your bottom lip, eyelids resting shut as you focus on spewing your next words, carefully selecting them. you can’t help the chuckle that reaches your mouth instead of a moan, “a bitch.”

“oh?” gojo cocks an eyebrow, another chuckle now audible despite it not coming from you. he drags the vibrator down your slippery folds and all the way back up to your clit, and you tighten your hold on his hair. “those weren’t supposed to be your next words, sweetheart.”

“y-you’re a bitch,” you continue regardless, and gojo can’t deny he’s attracted to you for your sheer audacity. he’s always been a fiend for a good challenge. “won’t even let me give you head— ngh, thought i was the one with a pussy.”

“you’re wounding my ego here,” gojo slides his hand from your tits and trail it all the way up to your mouth. he spreads your lips with two fingers, before hooking them at the corner of your mouth. “callin’ me a pussy? that’s a low blow, baby.”

you squint at him through the foggy mirror, applying pressure to the bulge poking at your ass. you smile when he groans into your ear, “you got a small dick or somethin’? gotta say— fuck, s-sure doesn’t feel like you do.” you throw your head back onto his shoulder, lips grazing over the shell of his ear, “should i check for myself? hnng, see if satoru owns a pussy?”

there’s a click in the air and suddenly the humming of the vibrator stops. finally. had you finally blown his fuse? ironically, your clit secretes more liquid as the idea of him finally pulling his pants off and dicking you down comes to mind. once his pride deflates, he does whatever he can to prove otherwise.

you’re sure you’ve got him.

“heh, you’ve got some nerve.” gojo snorts, and you don’t register how he’s manhandle you to the floor, hands holding your entire upper body steady as your thighs now wrap around his shoulders. the position has your back arched like a cat, and you raise your head up to watch him confusedly through the glass mirror.

two firm hands grip at your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he licks his lips hungrily, “it’s lookin’ like you’ll never know.” he bares his fangs at you, and you sigh before he feasts again.

☆ ☆

it doesn’t feel right. none of it does. it’s nowhere remotely near cheating, and yet, as this man litters your neck and chest with loving kisses, you feel your stomach churning in guilt.

here he is, offering himself to you, willing to give you what you’d been deprived off since you’d started your arrangement with gojo— willing to rock your world, bump hips and coax an penetrative orgasm out of you— but all you could think about was how wrong this all felt.

though a pleasant smell, these sheets don’t smell like him. they don’t feel like him either. instead of wide cerulean eyes and untamed white hair is stern brown eyes and kept blonde hair. where should be blotches of red on flawless skin is stress lines infused skin.

you felt awful, burning touches trailing between your thighs instead of that electricity that had your stomach twisting with butterflies.

“is everything alright?” the man pulls away from your legs, and questions. he’s so kind, willing to ask how you’re feeling in the midst of it all, and all you can think about is gojo.

no, nothing’s fine. “yeah, i’m good.” you lie, offering a smile. you’re a good liar, and it seems he falls for your words as he proceeds, pushing your panties to the side and works his tongue into you.

his movements are calculated and measured, paying attention to all areas of your cunt. he eats you out good, there’s no denying so, has your toes curling and back arching off his mattress. you lower your hand to tighten his locks, but even that feels wrong— it’s not as fluffy as gojo’s. you think you feel hair gel between your knuckles.

your mind runs a mile an second, overwhelmed by the sole idea that you were offering your body to another man. gojo wasn’t yours— not in the slightest, and yet, as he sucked on your clit and gripped at your thighs, your chest felt unreasonably tight.

you couldn’t do this any longer.

“wait— wait, please stop.” you push his head away, bottom lip quivering. he pulls away instantly, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt. you feel sick at the confused look on his face. “i can’t— i can’t do this. i’m so sorry.”

the man stares at you for a moment, though never maliciously, and you feel like wanting to crawl into a hole. he nods his head, before pushing your panties back to where they belong, and pushes himself up. silence fills the air for a while, and you’re holding back tears. you’re not sure why, though.

“it’s gojo, isn’t it?” he asks, though he’s not posing a question. he knows, surely everybody knows that you belong to him in both body and soul, but this has only been a recently found discovery for you.

your silence speaks volumes, and the man nods once more.

“yeah, that’s what i thought too.”

☆ ☆

to say he was surprised was definitely an understatement. he wasn’t expecting you to show up at his place, despite already having given you a key to his apartment.

you barged through his bedroom door, a location you were already too familiar with and unknowingly had become so accustomed to. your chest is heaving as if you’d ran a marathon before showing up here, and he wants to kiss the pout off your lips. “pants off, now.”

gojo rises from his bed to stand at his full height, a surprised smile stretching onto his face. “woah, at least take me out on a date first! i’m not just some whore.” his hands comically rise up in surrender, and your frown deepens.

“why won’t you let me give you head?” you ask him before you can even process your choice of wording. when his brows jump to his hairline at your boldness, you feel your face warm in embarrassment. “i mean seriously— am i the problem?”

“what?” gojo blinks, taking quick strides towards your fuming self. he shakes his head feverishly, “no, that’s not it at all—”

“then why do you keep rejecting me?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. you probably look and sound desperate, but the truth is you were. the first few times could be deemed funny, but there’s so much rejection a girl can take before it starts to become an insecurity. “why do you keep pushing me away? am i that unattractive to you?”

you’d never seen him look so panicked in his life. had it been under any other circumstance, you woulda laughed at the way his pupils blew widely and how his hands started waving all over the place, “no! jesus, are you kidding me— have you seen yourself? what sane man would think that—”

“what sane man wouldn’t want sex?” you bite back, and he’s taken aback. you see it in the way the words in his mouth die down, the way his body stills just slightly, the way his arms drop to his sides. you continue, “what sane man wouldn’t want head? what sane man solely focuses on pleasing a woman and not himself—”

“hey,” gojo frowns. “any sane man would aim to please his partner first and foremost.”

“well usually sane men accept the favour when offered back to them!” you counter, and once more, gojo was cornered into the wall. he remained quiet, an ideaology uncharacteristic to a man like himself, and waited for you to get it off your chest.

“it’s just. . .” you sigh, licking your lips. and he watches you, intently. you’re almost too embarrassed to say it, but enough was enough. “i just don’t get it! i’m thinking it’s because i’m unattractive to you but—”

“i’ve literally came in my pants from eating you out.” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. your face deadpans as does his. he’s dead serious too. oh that bastard, “multiple times, may i add. try again.”

“then it has to be you think i’m dirty.” you assume, and he tilts his head to the side with an expression that screams ‘seriously’. your annoyance builds up the more he looks at you like you’re crazy for him denying you of his pleasure. “i can assure you i’m clean— i’m not some fucking whore.”

“and i can assure you that thought has never once crossed my mind.” gojo snorts, body language now looser. his hands sit in the pockets of his sweats, a taunting smile on his lips. “what’s the next excuse?”

“oh that’s rich coming from you,” you sneer, poking your finger at his chest. he snorts again, and you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. “what else could it possibly be? you’re so fucking confusing, toru, i have no idea what goes on in your mind!”

“you, all the time.” gojo shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing. he says it as if you asked him if the sky was blue or if grass was green. “you go through my mind all the time. it’s that simple, really.”

“stop the bullshit, satoru.” you frown, pinching the bridge of your nose. your head was starting to ache, and you’d come for closure on this torment, but of course he had to stretch it out.

“but i’m being so serious?” he tilts his head. “it really is just you. you don’t think i want your lips wrapped around my cock? to feel how tight your pussy would be around me? seriously?”

“then why don’t you let me?!” you sigh exasperatedly, throwing your arms in the air. you didn’t understand this at all— you were both on the same page here, so why didn’t he let you? was he ashamed or something?

he goes quiet again, and you’re contemplating on storming out of his room. you give him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to decide on whether he wants to finally tell you the truth or find another plausible excuse that would have you drive back home.

there’s this look of embarrassment all over his face, his eyes unable to look at you. he scratches the corner of his mouth, lips tugging into a sheepish smile. “i’m. . . scared. kinda.”

you blink at him. “wait— are you a virgin?”

“no!” he immediately defends himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his sudden eagerness. he waves his hands around again to affirm his statement, “i’m not!”

“so. . . you’re a slut?” you ask instead, and he face palms himself. the nerve he had, to face palm himself when he’s giving you the faintest of clues. what were you supposed to understand from that alone?

“y/nnnn!” he drags out your name childishly, the skin of his cheeks flushed a bright pink. he hides his face in the palms of his hands, as if to cower himself away from this discussion. you think the sight is cute actually— a grown man shy about his sex life. how ironic.

“just spit it out.” you tut and he peels his hands away from his face. your eyes narrow as you wait on his answer, watching him fidget with his fingers and shy his gaze away from you. the wall at your side had to be so damn interesting if he couldn’t hold eye contact with you.

you sigh, “i promise i won’t make fun of you.”

your word alone seems to offer some sort of comfort. his lips part to speak, but it feels like an eternity and a half before words finally come out. “i. . . i don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you.”

now you’re confused. “whadya mean?”

he grumbles, lips falling into that pout he does whenever he doesn’t get something done his way. there’s a crease in his brows, a frown so deep you’re worried you said something wrong.

“i didn’t want to give you the ick, okay?” gojo finally sputters, the blush on his cheeks now spreading down the base of his neck. he can feel his heartbeat thudding excessively loud against his rib cage, and his hands are starting to get moist.

woah, he must be really embarrassed. but about what? was he insecure about his penis?

“why would you give me the ick, toru?” you speak slowly, not wanting to scare him off. you take a step closer to him when you notice he took one back, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. your thumb rubs at his skin in what you hope is a soothing manner.

his eyes shift from the wall to your gentle touch. his bottom lip quivers and he takes in a big breath, before redirecting his gaze on you.

“because you’re you and i’m me!” he starts off, as if ready to confess everything. you take it as a good sign however. “it’s you we’re talking about— god, you’re so pretty and sexy and kind, and so attractive it fucking hurts— i’ve literally busted to your taste alone! i’m so fucking whipped it’s embarrassing. i literally think about you all the time— in bed, in the car, in the shower— i think about how good you smell and how sweet you taste and how addictive your smile is! all i have to do is think about you and i’m instantly hard— i’m like a fucking dog you trained!”

for once today, you’re left speechless.

“and- and,” he continues, “i had to master self-control. me, satoru gojo, had to learn to hold myself back. do you know how many times i’ve nearly folded? hm? how many times i almost caved in and damn near ripped your clothes off with my teeth? you’ve turned me into an animal! i’ve wanted you for an eternity, but i know myself— i wouldn’t last a second with my dick in your mouth! that’s what i’m scared of, i’m scared of embarrassing myself to you and you’ll run off or something and i’ll end up rotting and dying alone from embarrassment and—”

“okay, okay.” you hold a hand up to cut off his rant. he was starting to babble, and soon he would flow into an inescapable hole of self-wallowing. “i think i get it now.”

he’s breathing heavy, pupils blown wide. his lips are quivering and you can tell he’s really anxious of your answer. you’d never seen him so shaken, as if your next words would make or break his entire world.

well, here goes nothing. “i hooked up with another man.” you think you heart his heart shatter in his chest. his face goes slack as does his body, and he immediately reverts his eyes away from yours.

“oh.”

you realize you could’ve started a bit differently. “it didn’t really go far, because i was so preoccupied thinking about you.” you sigh shakily. “everything felt wrong, even when i tried convincing myself it wasn’t, but i couldn’t help but think of you, even with another man around.”

gojo remains quiet, and you’re not even sure where you’re going with this. what are these feelings you’re feeling?

“listen, i don’t know what that guilt was but i know i never want to feel it again.” your hand proceeds to run at his skin. he hasn’t pushed you off yet, so you’re hoping it’s working. “this whole time i was thinking i was unappealing to you, and you’re afraid of flattering me?”

gojo shoots his head up at that, “flattering you?”

you snort, loving the dumb look on his face. he didn’t have a fucking clue, did he? “do you have any idea what that would do to my ego? knowing i was able to make you nut off of head alone?”

“heyyy, don’t go using it against me!” he whines, pouting. “’s your fault anyway— how is somebody that perfect? i don’t get it, you’re genuinely unreal. i almost don’t like it.”

well he surely knew a way around with his words. you giggle, sliding the hand around his bicep up to the back of his neck. your other arm mimics, as your fingers card through his undercut. you can feel him shuddering beneath your touch, and he instinctively cups at your waist.

“now that i know your reasoning, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do.” you stare him up through your lashes. you weren’t sure how you didn’t see it before, but now they everything is clear, you swear you see hearts swimming in his orbs. cute. “but, you wouldn’t scare me off, toru. i can’t believe i’m saying this but i might be stuck with you— you say you’re a trained dog, then what does that make me? thought about you while another man ate me out.”

he frowns at that. oops. “he wasn’t better than me. . . was he?”

“never.” you shake your head, and feel the way his shoulders sag in relief. “and if it makes you feel better, we didn’t kiss and i never gave him a blowjob.”

he’s still pouting, but his nose scrunches in the way he does when he wants you to drown him with attention. when had you start noticing these details? “it does. . . i guess.”

“toruuu, you have to forgive me.” it’s your turn to pout, nails scraping at his scalp as your lashes flutter. you rise to the tip of your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips— lustless. there’s a soft smack that separates both your pair of mouths, and you see the corner of his mouth threaten to twitch into a smile. his hold on your waist tightens and pulls you in closer. “want me to show you just how sorry am i?”

“mhm,” he mumbles, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips. he wants them back on his, and that’s exactly what he does, leaning forward to seal another chaste kiss. when he does pull away, it’s just slightly, tips of your noses still grazing one another. he bumps noses with yours, “prove it t’me.”

your cheeks feel like they’ll split with how widely you’re smiling, but that ends as soon as it came, when he lunges forward to kiss you again.

his jaw slacks as he ravishes your lips, tongues sloshing as he releases pretty moans into your mouth. you fed him everywhere— his tongue dancing at the roof of your mouth, his hands caressing your ass, the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest vibrating against your own.

you walk forwards, lips never leaving his, as his steps move backwards. he tastes as sweet as always, a faint cherry flavour resting on his taste buds. soon enough he’s laid on his back on his own bed with you hovering him, your thighs resting at his sides. his hands grip at the meat on your legs.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” you pull away from his lips and trail your hand down his torso, all the way to his briefs’ waistband. “you’ve never had anything like it.” surely enough, he’s harder than he’s ever been, the outline of his cock seeping through the material of his pants. your hand slides lower to cup at the bulge, feeling up on his dick through your fingers, and he whines into your mouth, hips thrusting up into your touch.

“p-please, i’m— oh fuckkk,” he begs, moans croaking out of his throat as you slip your hand into his underwear. your touches are light, wanting to tease him as you collect endless beads of pre cum at the tip of your fingers. his hips never cease to buck into your palm, desperate for more.

“enough waiting, hm?” you tug down at his undergarments, and immediately get slapped in the face. his dick is nothing to scoff at— you’d only seen and felt it through the material of his pants, but now that it was bare and right before your eyes? his length had nothing on your imagination. with a pretty pink mushroom tip, vein throbbing on the underside, heavy balls and a cute curve to the left, his dick undoubtedly had your mouth watering.

he’s twitching sans cease, as if it had a mind of its own.

“can’t believe you were holding out me, toru,” you lick your lips, laying flat on your own stomach, between his legs. he’s pushed up on his elbows, watching as you stroke his cock languidly. “you’re so mean.” your fists tightens at the top of his cock, thumb rubbing at his oozing slit, before loosening your hold as you lower to the base.

he gulps, hands scrunching at the duvets beneath him. you’re giving him these eyes, and your fleeting touches on his dick will surely have him lose his mind. “stop teasing meee, i’ll—nghh!” you kiss the tip of his cock,

and in the blink of an eye, he cums. your eyes shut as ropes of hot, white cum shoot at your face, from all different kinds of directions. he cums, and it’s a lot. it almost feels never ending, as does his cries. his back arches and his hips hump the air, cock twitching uncontrollably as it erupts.

“oh nooo— shit, ngh, fuck— can’t help it!” veins bulge in his forearm with how intensely he’s gripping onto the covers. you think it’s rather adorable, how easily overwhelmed he gets.

it takes a lifetime for his high to come down. and through it all, you’re pumping at his cock, milking him for what he has to offer. silently of course, you’re not even sure he’d be able to hear anything you have to say with how vocal he is.

when it all becomes too much, he starts shivering from oversensitivity, and his cock jumps weakly. you pull your hand away, and his dick falls onto his lower stomach. he’s breathing heavily, head thrown back as you clean the cum off your face. you pop a finger in your mouth, he tastes sweet. “hm.”

“just,” gojo pauses, taking another deep breath in. the ceiling must be real interesting for him. “just go on with it. but don’t say i didn’t tell you so.”

you smirk, now popping the finger out of your mouth with a wet plop! “you really weren’t kidding.”

hmm can anybody guess who the “mystery man” you hooked up with is ? 🌚

#rena☆star. #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #gojo thirst

[habken]

/busts down your door WHAT ALL HAVE I MISSED IN BNHA?????? I just saw your comic and I’m so confused

okay so bakugou got got right we all know that, shigaraki fucked up his arm, bakugou said “oh I know what I gotta do” and did a good attack on shiggy but his heart exploded </3 and he died but edgshot said “nuh uh” and used his body to stitch it back up and then deku was late to the party and didnt even have time to be bummed out about bakugou’s corpse cause he has to fight shigaraki and then somewhere else afo does stuff blah blah blah and snatches hawks quirk (rip) and then takes off to join shigafo in that fight but all might says “not on my watch” and intercepts him and they duke it out and all this time afo is getting younger cause he used something made from eris quirk so he could keep duking it out with endeavour and that gang so he’s like a teen fighting poor old man all might who used all his savings to by himself a mech suit but it’s not going so hot for him and stain shows up to take on afo with all might but afo still wins and is about to finish off all might when bakugou starts up his own heart with his explosive sweat and makes really fruity eye contact with deku and with the power of friendship deku pauses his fight with shigafo to launch bakugou towards afo and bakugou saved all might and goes “dawg who’s this kid I’m about to beat the shit out of” and all might says “that’s afo” and bakugou goes to beat the shit out of toddler afo and succeeds because afo finally benjamin buttons out of existence but the whole balugou’s arm looks like seconds away from falling off, then after a long day of fighting bakugou takes a well deserved nap and we go back to deku v shigafo and it’s not going well for deku he’s trying to break through to tenko but he’s not getting anywear and then shigaraki steals danger sense and it gets even worse but second user goes “wait ! What if we attack him with psychic damage, give shigaraki ofa and we’ll beat the shit out of his mind so you can do your thing” amd deku is very sad but agrees and then after he goes punches all of the ofa vestiges into shigaraki they end up in his mind palace and little deku holds little tenko hand even though it’s disintegrating his own and this is where we think “wow he truly won with the power of friendship” but no !! He did not ! The afo vestige that loves in shigaraki’s mind comes out and evil laughs and says “you idiot I’ve been behind all the awful missrable things that happened your whole life ! I convinced your dad to have you, I took your og quirk away and gave you half of an ability that should have let you destroy and recreate but only gave you the destructive part because I am evil and you are too because I made you that way” and shigaraki goes :0 ?!1?;& and dissolves because afo cast vicious mockery and got a nat20 dealing double damage. We then exit shigaraki’s mind and deku has no arms !! But behind him avengers endgame style, heroes amass and aizawa steps out of the portal and goes “damn sorry midoriya if only I’d come like a minute earlier now you’re armless </3” but ! He tosses deku eri’s horn because eri havked it off herself to give to deku to save him and deku’s arms start growing back :D at the same time, afo has fully taken over shigaraki’s body and i like “haha tomura is no more it’s just me now” but he’s super bummed out because his vestige brother is gone as well and he’s like “damn what even is the reason for doing anything anymore :// I guess I’ll still kick ur ass or whatever but I’m kinda apathetic about taking over the world now” but while deku gave away ofa he still has some of the embers and with the power of froendship once more, he dodges afo’s attacks and punches him super duper hard, and we see shigaraki again :D and yoichi :00 and yoichi says sone shit to afo and shigaraki turns to deku like “this was truly our hero academia :) tell spinner I love him” and deku says “sure dawg” and they fist bump and stuff

tldr: deku gave up ofa to save shigaraki and bakugou’s arm is super super messed up which is very fun

#ask #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #long post

[rafeysdoll]

⊹ sending rafe videos of you touching yourself without him doesn’t go without a cruel punishment.

you whine loudly, hot tears falling down your pitiful sad face one by one — cheeks almost as wet as your leaky, covered pussy.

“doesn’t feel nice, does it dollface?” rafe groans between gritted teeth before pumping his second load of pearly cum on your stomach, the whole show only making you more frantic and desperate.

you whimper, thrashing your tied wrists around in a weak, hopeless attempt to somehow get out of the fuzzy handcuffs your boyfriend bound you to. “rafey!! please— please.” you hiccup, wide eyes full of despair. “i need it,” you wail.

“nah. nah you don’t fucking need it, you— you just fucking want it.” he spits back, lifting up your damp underwear at your thigh before lowering his sensitive cock and nudging it between your pussy and panties. “learn the damn difference.”

slowly, he pushes himself back and forth in, the friction of it all quickly getting him hard again — jaw slacking back down. “oh shit,” he sputters, concentrating on his pleasure.

“daddy,” you break, taking in a small shaky breath before continuing, “please, cmonn!” you plead, tight aching hole clenching around nothing.

he shakes his head, biting his lip down to conceal a broken whimper. “well— well maybe you should’ve thought twice about what you did. sending me those videos, thinking you— you could just get away it? you gotta be fucking dumb.” he ridicules, mean words sliding off his tongue easily.

it was absolutely humiliating — the way he harshly spoke, and the way it didn’t ever fail to make you collect up even more slick and arousal through your puffy folds, a soft whine pulling from your glossy lips as your poor cunt throbs in need.

you wiggle your hips a little, wanting only the smallest crumb of relief, hissing softly when his tip rubs up on your clit. “oh, there. there..” you mewl, body twitching underneath him at that slightest touch.

you finally think it’s over when he gives a light chuckle — lowering your panties down to your thighs to properly circle your nub with the end of his dick.

an obvious smirk plays on his face when you mumble low ‘thank you’s’ over and over as he trails one hand to your face, caressing your tear stained cheek before mumbling gently, “poor kitty has had enough, hm?”

you can’t help but pout, nodding weakly. “yea- yea..” you whisper pathetically, wide eyes staring up at him for empathy.

you couldn’t be more far off.

“yea? guess that’s too fucking bad. real shame.”

and as quickly as it came, it quickly stops. he withdraws his hips back from you and cuts it off completely, pulling your panties back up.

the same fingers that caressed your cheek now tap at the side of your temple. “you really, really gotta use that brain more. did— did you really think it would be that easy?” he adds.

frustration and ache quickly rises up in you, once more tugging on the handcuffs clicked to the bed, desperate to get out of your confines. desperate to just get your orgasm. “that— that was so mean! you can’t just—”

he shoves his fingers in your mouth before you can continue, shaking his head. “nah, don’t even fucking start complaining. you deserved that shit.”

a muffled sob escapes your throat, fighting the urge to instinctively suck on his fingers.

“gonna have to wait a little more, just like i did.” he seals, scoffing lightly. “it’s alright though, you can keep going for me, right? sorta owe me.”

you shut your eyes tightly, too ashamed to look at him. he was sick. utterly sick.

but.. you were perfect for each other, because you got off of it every single time.

you slowly peek open your eyes, now letting yourself gently suck on his fingers, humming against themself and nodding.

“atta girl.”

mean rafe <3 sorta hate the ending i rushed :( buttttt huge thanks to @kevsfuckingbox for helping me make this ^_^!! if you like, please give feedback and a reblog 🩷 it means so much!

tag list: @oceandriveab @imbabycowboy @sowrkitty @carolinaxvz @rafecameroninterlude @pinkribboncoco @kevsfuckingbox @hewwokitti @justagirlinherownworld @sugardonutzz @rafeysbby @prettyg1irlstears @ariahna @sugarcandydoll @rafesgiirl @fae-of-prey @jun1p3rlol

#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #rafe cameron thoughts

[barcaatthemoon]

priorities || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you being late brings up a lot more problems.

"shit," you swore to yourself. you couldn't be late again, alexia had really been on your ass. there were talks of benching you until you could show the team that you wanted to be there. it wasn't your fault that your parents left you to fend for yourself. their reasoning was that if you wanted to act like an adult, then they'd treat you like one. it didn't matter that you weren't old enough to drive yourself anywhere like to practice.

you were a sweating mess by the time that you had gotten to the stadium. the last four blocks from the bus stop to work had been sprinted. you hated having to make that trek normally, but it was even worse whenever the weather was as hot as it was. all you could do was get ready and hope that jona didn't want to talk to you privately.

"nena, where have you been?" all of the team was staring at you as you made your way onto the field. you searched for alexia's eyes and immediately wished that you hadn't. she was looking at you with a look of pure disappointment, like you had completely disregarded her last lecture to you.

"(y/n), come with me," alexia told you. her tone was stern, nearly as much as her expression. you were practically shaking in your boots as you followed her away from everybody else. if she would have just pulled you to the sidelines, it wouldn't have been so bad, but alexia walked you fully away from the field over to the tunnels.

"alexia, before you start, i'm sorry," you apologized. alexia didn't even acknowledge what you said, which you knew meant that she was angry with you. you shrunk back before she even started yelling at you, glancing over towards where the other players were barely visible on the field.

"that does not mean anything to me when you continue to arrive at practice late. how many times do we have to talk about this? before when you played it was for fun, but this is your job. you aren't just here to practice and play in games, there are more responsibilities that come with being a member of the senior team. i am done with babying you, so until you can prove that you're willing to do what is needed like arriving on time, you are on your own." alexia didn't once raise her voice. she walked away from you and back to the field. you stood there with your lip trembling as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

you just barely managed to compose yourself before you joined the team on the field. jona made you run laps while they did their scrimmage games. during lunch, you sat by yourself. alexia was usually your lunch partner, but you assumed that she wanted nothing to do with you.

"hola, nena," irene greeted you. none of the girls liked seeing you sit and eat alone, but irene was the only one alexia wouldn't get onto for sitting with you during your punishment. if anything, alexia trusted her to lecture you as well.

"hola irene," you mumbled. you didn't look up from your plate of food, which you had been pushing around for the past 20 minutes. there were only ten or so minutes left before you had to move on to watch film and go to the gym, but you couldn't bring yourself to take a single bite.

"you should eat. you ran a lot in practice and we're going to the gym later. it would make me and some of the other girls feel a lot better if you would try to take a few bites," irene said. you glanced up at her, which was a mistake. almost immediately, tears returned to your eyes. you practically sprinted out of there to avoid letting them see you cry.

none of the girls came after you. alexia did a good job of keeping everybody away from you while you all watched film. you had your little notepad to take notes, mostly on your opponents since you already didn't get much playing time. a few of the younger girls kept staring at you, and several times you found yourself meeting vicky or jana's gaze.

the gym wasn't much better. you kept your head down and only used machines so that you didn't need a spotter. you kept to areas where nobody else was, and any time that you thought someone was approaching you, you'd leave. once you finished your required reps in the gym, you went out to the field, knowing that you had to run laps after everything.

there wasn't anybody watching you on the field when you first got out there, but slowly, more and more of the girls filed out to the seats to watch you. you didn't pay any attention to any of them. you wanted them to leave so that you could get home, but they didn't budge. and so, you kept running and running. at least an hour had to have passed, possibly more before your body started to forcibly slow down.

"nena!" mapi called out as she watched you drop down to your knees. you had been mid-run, and while it didn't look like a blowout, mapi was paranoid. she took off in a sprint towards you, as did most of the backline that you had been playing with. "are you okay? where does it hurt?"

"mapi, back up, give her some space," alexia said. at that, mapi shot up and lunged at her captain. it took everybody except for lucy getting between them to keep them away from each other. alexia was pulled away from you completely while lucy dropped down to check on you.

"hey kiddo, just breathe for me, okay? can you breathe with me?" lucy asked. she motioned for you to inhale and exhale with her slowly. everybody had been so caught up with the thought of you being injured that they hadn't really checked on you until lucy. she got you sitting up, which was when you clung to her in a hug.

"i was so scared. i just stopped breathing," you told her. there was no holding back your tears. you sobbed openly into lucy's shirt. the medics were waved off, but they left a bottle of water and some options for a snack with the girls on the pitch. "i don't know what happened."

"you overexerted yourself. it's been a busy day for you, and patri mentioned that you looked a little tired when you got here. did you sleep okay last night?" lucy asked you.

"i slept fine," you promised her. lucy ran through a little checklist of questions before marta interrupted her.

"how did you get here nena?" marta asked. at that, you glanced down at your hands and mumbled out the truth. you hoped that none of them would hear you and drop it, but that wasn't the case.

"speak up." this time, it was irene's stern voice that forced it out of you. there was a gentleness to it that alexia's lacked, which was why you repeated yourself for them in the first place.

"i took the bus, then walked," you answered. you weren't proud of admitting it, knowing how dumb that was. irene and marta's faces dropped at your words. they knew how far your home was from the first bus station, and then the other four blocks was not exactly light travel.

"if you ever need a ride anywhere, you tell one of us, got it?" marta leaned in and cradled your face in her hands. "i don't care if it is for something stupid, you call someone."

"yes ma'am," you said quietly. there was still a bit of wheezing when you breathed, but you had pretty much stopped crying. "i'm not in trouble am i?"

"not for this nena, not for this," irene said. she left you to go talk to jona and alexia. patri and pina offered to take you back with them, promising that the three of you could have a fun sleepover with vicky and jana if you were up to it. you were in the locker room changing when alexia came up to you again.

"(y/n), there are some things that i would like to say to you," alexia said. she seemed nervous, which threw you for a loop. you were so used to alexia being confident and sure of herself.

"go ahead," you muttered quietly.

"i am sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. that isn't fair to you, and i will work to be better in the future. irene informed me of how you've been getting to practice, and i figured that your house is not too far from my apartment complex. if you are okay with it, i would like to pick you up for practice. we may need to come in a bit early some days, but i have full confidence that one day you will have captain duties." alexia cracked a small smile at you, one that helped relax you a little. "you don't have to, but it would mean a lot to me if you accepted my apology."

"i do," you said quietly. a part of you was just doing it because she was your captain and you didn't want alexia to be mad at you. still, you appreciated that alexia sought you out to apologize for being so strict with you earlier.

"nena, are you ready?" pina asked as she poked her head into the locker room. her eyes fell to alexia, and pina stepped fully into the locker room ready to square up with her captain. "is she bothering you, nena?"

"it's fine, pina. ale was just apologizing. let's go, i want to take a nap before vicky's parents drop her off," you said. pina helped you carry your bag out to patri's car. both women kept a close eye on you, seeing you as their responsibility to look after. you were like their child, not that any of you would say it to one another.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #teen reader #platonic fic #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona x reader #barcelona imagine

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐁𝐫𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞

Pairing: Chan x Lee Know little sister!fem!reader (non-idol au) Genre: Fluff + Smut angst kinda >.>(im bad at writing it forgive me...) Word Count: 8.6k (HOLY SHIT THATS THE LONGEST ONE YET) Warnings: mutual pining, mentions of cheating, protective Minho, underage drinking if you pay close attention, fighting >.> <.< DONT DO IT, unprotected sex pullout method >.>, cringe ending as usual. i think thats everything?

A/N: I genuinely started tweaking writing this uh requests are open until like august. this request is old... so... im sorry i only just got to it ;-; I'm also so sorry if the story is >.>... cringe T_T my brain has been like fried eggs lately.

The first time Chan agreed to go to Minho's house, he was in his sophomore year of high school, when Minho had mentioned he had a sister, Chan hadn't thought much of it.

Until Chan saw you; the pretty, sweet (to him at least), smart 8th grader that was Minho's little sister.

You had poked your head into Minho's room, "Bro have you seen my hair rollers?"

Chan looked up at you from his book.

Minho looked at you and made a face. "I don't know where you put that stuff."

"Minho!" You threw the door open and frowned at him. "You borrowed them!"

"WHY WOULD I BORROW THOSE???"

"I DON'T FUCK-" You paused, eyes flicking to Chan.

Minho smiled evilly. "I'm telling mom!"

"MIN!" You shouted, "OH!" You stomped your foot for a moment before huffing. You took long strides to Minho's bedside table and grabbed his wallet.

"Where are you going!?" He shouted as you went back to the door.

"Buy more hair rollers." You said, slamming the door behind you.

Chan looked at his book and cleared his throat trying to disguise his laugh. You were cute, just a little bit.

Minho looked at his friend before his eyes narrowed. "Hey."

Chan looked at him, "Huh?"

"Chan... You're my guy. My best friend." Minho got up from his bed and smiled genuinely at him, "For the sake of our friendship, don't..."

Chan raised a brow. "Don't what?"

Minho made a face. "Chan."

Chan laughed. "Minho. I couldn't. Be for real. She's your sister. I'll be with her and be constantly reminded of you." He shuddered.

"Haha." Minho punched him. "Promise?"

"How old are we?" Chan raised a brow.

Minho looked serious.

Chan sighed. "I promise."

Yet... he couldn't keep that promise. Not while you were so busy being you.

You pulled into your parents' driveway. You had just finished your sophmore year of college, you checked your phone and messaged Minho saying you were home and to open the door.

You waited for a few minutes, scrolling on instagram before checking to see if Minho had read your message. It was still on delivered..

You sighed and called his phone. It rang and rang, but he didn't answer. "MINHO!" You made a face and finally decided to check your brother's location.

He was an hour away. At the mall.

You were about to call him again when he called you first.

"Oh, you're home already?" he asked, munching on something.

"Yes." You exhaled. "Why aren't you here to let me in?!"

"HEY HEY HEY!" He said, "Someone is there."

"Who?" You fianlly got out of your car and grabbed your bag from the trunk, dragging it to the front door.

"Chan."

You made a face and rang the doorbell. "Yada yada."

"Hey, respect me. I'm older than you!" Minho huffed.

"Ah hush." You rang the bell again. "Is that weirdo friend of yours even here-"

The door opened and you looked at the man standing there, his hair was unruly and he looked like he just woke up. You looked him up and down for a moment- he looked different, older, more muscular, the tank top wasn't helping much, you could see the outline of his pecs. "Chan?"

"AH I told you he'd open the door-" Minho started but you hung up the phone.

The muscular man crossed his arms. "Do I know you?"

"Uh- I live here?" Your brows furrowed.

"The only women I know live here is Minho's mother and a silly 11th grader I haven't seen in years." Chan sighed, "Minho doesn't take squatters. He already has 3."

"Bang Christopher Chan." Your eyes narrowed. "Did you just call my babies SQUATTERS????"

Chan's mouth fell open. "Y/n-"

"I'm telling Minho!" You pushed into the house and Chan trailed behind you.

"Let me carry that bag for you-"

"No, no, no!" You swatted his hand away. "You think my babies are squatters." You huffed and ran to your elder brother's cat, Soonie, that happened to be looking around the corner.

Chan rolled his eyes and you picked it up and started baby talking to it. "It's a cat-"

"You speak fluent baby to Berry. Don't judge me." You walked with the cat up the stairs to your room.

Chan sighed deeply.

"Chan, bring my bag upstairs thanks." You smiled sweetly and skipped back up the stairs with the cat.

Chan tongued the inside of his mouth a bit annoyed, you hadn't changed one bit. You just looked more mature. More like a woman, the curve of your waist more defined to your hips, you seemed prettier, your- … What are you thinking...

Chan pursed his lips and grabbed your bag, taking it up stairs.

He watched as you entered your room.

"Did Minho touch any of my stuff?" You asked looking around.

"Not that I know of." Chan hummed setting the bag on the bed.

You turned and gasped. "MY GUDETAMA PLUSH IS GONE!"

Chan tilted his head. "Your what?"

You fumed. "MY EGG PLUSHIE!"

Chan's face fell. "The one that was over there-" He pointed to your desk.

Your eyes narrowed. "Bang Christopher Chan. Where is my egg-"

"HERE!" Minho shouted, sliding into your room, holding up a Gudetama plushie.

You looked at your older brother. "Minho. It's not even the same plushie."

Minho opened his mouth then closed it.

"MIN!"

"AHHH JISUNG DROPPED IT IN PAINT!"

"WHAT WERE YOU EVEN DOING IN MY ROOM??!?!"

"It was Changbin's idea!"

"OHH!! LEE MINHO! GET OUT!" You fumed.

Chan and Minho scurried away before Minho burst out laughing as he got to the bottom of the steps. Chan rolled his eyes and laughed.

"I'll give her the money to replace it later." Minho sighed, "Tryna get some drinks? Jisung is paying."

Chan nodded, grabbing his phone from the table and staring at your cat Dori. The brown, grey striped cat tilted its head at Chan and the man pet it gently. "Tell Y/N I'm sorry yeah?"

The cat purred and Chan smiled before following Minho out.

Chan finished off his alcohol and turned to Hyunjin, "Hyunjinnie."

The long, dark haired man looked at him, "Huh?"

"That egg thing Jisung covered in paint."

"What about it?" Hyunjin asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"What was it called?"

Jisung looked up from his food. "Gudetama?"

"Yeah that." Chan hummed. "Where do I get one that looks like it? Exact replica.."

Hyunjin shrugged. "Google it."

Chan huffed, and started searching.

Minho looked at him, "Why are you wondering?"

Chan pursed his lips. "We did mess it up."

Minho grabbed Chan's phone. "Chan." His face was expression was blank.

"Minho, I'm just trying to replace it." Chan grabbed his phone back and sighed.

Hyunjin gave Minho a look and kept eating.

Minho didn't say anything to Chan until everyone was going home only saying "see ya."

It was over a week later you came home with your friend Sua to hang out and when you opened your bedroom door you smiled at the sight of the a new Gudetama plushie. The CORRECT one.

"Where did that come from?" Sua asked as she sat on your bed, grabbing your Cinnamoroll and hugging it.

"Minho probably got it." You grabbed the egg and admired it except as you brought it to your face and inhaled, past the scent of the store... you smelled the cologne it smelled like... You pulled Gudetama away from your face and stared at it for a long moment.

"What?" Sua asked.

"Nothing..." You murmured.

Sua took the Gudetama from you and inspected it. "It's definitely new.. it smells like the store but..." She smelled it again. "Who's cologne is that?"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed it back, hugging it. "Doesn't matter.." But as you thought about the way he'd looked at you when he opened the door, the way his muscles seemed to strain against his shirt as he crossed his arms... You shook your head. So what if he had grown up a little bit. So had Minho's other friends, it didn't matter.

Yet recognizing the faint scent that lingered on the plushie, the faint scent you'd picked up from him as you pushed past him, you hugged the plushie just a little bit tighter.

Chan spun in the spinning chair in the library. He looked up at the ceiling, brain racing with so many thoughts. Had you seen it? Had you liked it?

"Chan." Hyunjin flicked his forehead. "Did I write my part good?"

"Uh huh." Chan said dismissively.

"You seem lost in thought..." Jeongin said, rolling over in his chair. "Something on your mind?"

Someone.. "No, nothing." Chan shrugged.

Jeongin's eyes narrowed, "I think..."

Chan looked at him. "Wha-"

Jeongin grabbed Chan's laptop and ran off with it, "THE SECRETS ARE HERE!" He shouted, "PROTECT ME HYUNG!"

Hyunjin tried his best to hold Chan in his chair but the latter easily sprang away and sprinted after Jeongin.

"INNIE RUN AWAY!" Hyunjin squealed.

As Chan was about to pounce on the younger man, the library assistant, a young woman with dark hair and brown eyes with a small mole on her cheek, cleared her throat. As Chan got a better look he realized the woman was your friend, Sua.

"Please be quiet." She rolled her eyes before walking into the small room and pushing the chairs back into place, she sniffed slightly, as if sick and Hyunjin offered her a tissue which she gratefully accepted before leaving the room.

Chan grabbed his computer from Jeongin and sat back in his spinning chair. "There is no secret."

The younger men looked at each other, "Sure," Hyunjin said, "Totally," Jeongin huffed.

As Sua walked away she smiled to herself and looked back. So that's who got Gudetama...

You were out with Sua at the mall, "Y/N." She smiled, "This would look so good on you." She pushed a very short skirt into your hands.

"Are we going to a strip club??" You stared at your friend in shock. "Min will kill me if I wear this."

She nudged you, "You can't stay so single and innocent forever." Sua's eyebrows bounced comically. "But then again.." She pulled the skirt to herself. "Do you think Seungmin would like me in this?"

You rolled your eyes. "If Seungmin noticed you."

She shoved you. "MEANIE!"

You giggled and kept looking for clothes.

"Ok..." She sighed.

You turned to the jewelry area and left Sua looking at bottoms alone. As you looked at the earrings and necklaces and bracelets, a pair of earrings caught your attention, it was simple, small silver half hoop earrings. You moved down the glass to get a better look and as you rested your hand on the glass display, a hand brushed yours. You looked at the hand for a brief moment before seeing the veiny arm, your stomach flipped.

You looked at the man, he looked at you, brow raised.

"Sorry." You pulled away.

"It was my fault." The man laughed. "I was just looking at those earrings." he pointed to the earrings you had your eyes on.

"Oh-" You smiled slightly, "I was looking at those too."

His eyes widened slightly, "You probably saw them first-"

"No it's fine." You were about to move away.

"It's fine really." the man waved over the store clerk. "How much for these?"

Your brows furrowed. "I-"

"550,000 sir." The clerk said.

The man slid his card across the table and smiled at you. "It's the least I can do, I think I made you uncomfortable."

You opened your mouth then closed it. What was this guy doing..

"I'm Minseok." He put his hand out to shake yours.

You smiled sheepishly. "Y/N, and really you don't have to get me these-"

The store clerk came back with a key and opened the glass display, closing the earrings box and putting it in a bag. The clerk handed the bag to Minseok with his receipt and card.

"I insist."Minseok handed you the bag.

"Y/N, did you find someth-" Sua came over, carrying a lot of bags and looked at you then Minseok and back at you, a devious grin spread across her lips and you wanted to hide.

Minseok wrote something on the back of his receipt before handing it to you. "Call me?" He smiled and walked out of the store.

"WHO WAS THAT FINE GLASS OF WINE????" Sua grabbed you, "What did he give you?" She grabbed the bag and smiled at the earrings, "Oh my, a man of taste! What's his name-"

"SUA!" you grabbed your friend's face. "Stop rambling. He bumped into me."

"And bought you earrings for 550,000 won as an apology?"

You sucked in a breath.

"He was definitely into you." She smiled dreamily. "If only I could find Seungmin in such a way."

You rolled your eyes. "Let's go."

But you had ended up shooting Minseok a text... why not?

Chan came over with the guys to celebrate Minho getting a promotion. "Ah, look at the best dance instructor this city has ever seen." Chan hugged him tightly as he entered the house.

Minho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"Congrats man." Jisung patted Minho on the back, "Now with the money you're making you can finally pay when we go out to eat."

Minho made a face.

"Stop annoying him," Jeongin smiled. "But really congrats."

Minho smiled, "Come on in guys," He led the men in and to the dining room, "Tada!"

The men smiled at the sight of the barbecue and they all began eating. Chan teased Minho most of the evening until, he heard steps on the stairs. He turned to look at the stairs and his heart skipped a beat.

You were coming down the steps with Sua, dressed up to go out, skirt that showed your perfect legs and a shirt that drew attention to your curves and cleavage.

You came to your older brother and gave him a quick hug, "Congrats Minho."

As you started to pull away he grabbed your hand. "Jacket?" He asked.

You held up your jacket.

"Phone?"

You held up your phone the yellow Gudetama case that Sua had bought you drew Chan's attention momentarily.

"Pepper spray?" Minho tilted his head.

You shook your purse a bit.

He smiled, "Have fun. Don't let a creep touch you."

"Yeah yeah." You followed Sua out.

"Where's she going?" Changbin asked, munching on his beef.

"Party." Minho shrugged.

"Bound to get attention dressed like that," Hyunjin sipped his soda, "Who's party?"

"Some guy from college apparently." Minho shrugged. "Sua's with her so she should be fine."

Chan's eyes narrowed, "Minho, you're letting her go to 'some guy's' party?"

Minho looked at him. "She'll call if something happens, besides she knows not to drink."

Chan sighed, "Alright."

The other men looked at them, but no one said anything.

After the little celebration Chan was driving home, it was almost 1 in the morning, he came to a red light in front of a bar and tapped his thumb on the wheel to the rhythm of the music. He glanced out at the bar and his brows furrowed. There was a girl who looked suspiciously like you, stumbling out.

Chan was about to ignore it when a man came out of the bar after the girl. He sighed, the cars at the cross section slowing down and just as he was about to drive he watched as the girl reached into her bag for something and pulled out a yellow case with lazy egg.

Chan pulled off to the side and got out of his car as the man grabbed your shoulder. You shoved him off in your drunk daze but he was persisting.

And right as he grabbed your wrist Chan grabbed his forearm. "Can't you see she doesn't like you?" Chan's eyes narrowed, "Get out of here before I beat the shit out of you."

The man stared at Chan for a moment. Chan gripped the man's arm tighter.

"Bitch." The man released you roughly and stormed off down the street.

"Chan-" You looked at him, about to speak.

"Get in the car." He said lowly.

You opened your mouth, then closed it as he tilted his had at you daring you to say something back. You walked to the car and he opened the door to let you, closing it a you entered before going to the driver's side and entering.

"Please don't tell Min." You said as he settled.

"Where's Sua?" Chan turned to you.

"She ran off with some guy.." You said quietly.

"Why didn't you leave then?"

"Who are you my dad?"

"Y/N."

You looked at your hands. "I didn't want to."

Chan hook hi head and tarted the car again, before pulling back onto the road, he was about to go back to your house as he scolded you when you suddenly covered your mouth.

Chan sucked in a breath. "Y/N no- Not in my car-" Chan pulled over by a tree and you jumped out of the car and ran to the tree.

He cringed as you vomited and stepped out of the car, carefully taking your hair into his hand and holding it out of the way until you were jut dry heaving.

"You good now?" He asked.

You nodded.

Chan got you back in the car and gave you water.

"Chan..." You said after taking a drink. "Don't tell Minho. Please."

"Ok, ok, I won't." He sighed.

"Don't wanna go home."

"You have to."

"CHANNIE!" You whined.

Chan turned so fast, his head could've spun off his shoulders. He blinked before turning back to the road. Chris. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

"If I go home, Minho will know I'm drunk and he'll tell our parents and I won't be allowed out again." You grabbed his arm. "Chan.."

Chan sucked in a breath. "Just this once."

You smiled and hugged his arm. Chan felt his face getting hot but kept driving back to his place.

Chan had really trusted you when you said you were fine, you vomited again, outside his apartment complex and this time it had gotten on your shirt. So when you had gotten into his apartment he forced you to the bathroom and gave you some of his clothes to wear.

You were lying on Chan's couch, half asleep while he got you food because you wouldn't stop asking.

Your phone rang.

Chan was about to grab it but he froze. What would Minho think...

You grabbed your phone and answered. "Hello... No... I'm at Sua's... Chan? No I haven't heard from him... No I didn't drink... No I didn't bring a guy with me to Sua's... Okay... Tell my babies I love them... Good night Min." You hung up the phone and looked at Chan. "All handled."

Chan turned to face you and his stomach did somersaults. You standing there in his shirt, his sweatpants, looking so...

You tilted your head. "Are you drunk too, Channie?" You hummed.

Chan shook his head. "Haha. Here eat."

You smiled and took the food, going back to the couch, munching. Chan closed himself in the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He rubbed his hands over his face for a moment before tuning on the tap and splashing his face. "Christopher... It's Y/N." he told himself. "It's just Y/N.."

A knock on the bathroom door made Chan look up. He patted his face dry with the towel on the bar and opened the door.

You stood there, looking at him. "Are you okay?" You asked.

He nodded, "I'm just really tired."

"I'm sorry for bothering you." You muttered, "Thank you.."

Chan felt his heart flutter and he smiled gently. "It's okay. Sleep in my room 'kay? I'll take the couch."

"I can't.." You mumble.

Chan made a face, "Why?"

"I don't have Gudetama.."

Chan opened his mouth then closed it.

"It keeps me safe at night." You looked down and gripped the hem of your his shirt tightly in your hands.

What was Chan supposed to say... What could he say without sounding weird or mean..

"Stay with me?"

Chan broke out of his trance as he heard that. "What?"

"Stay with me.. Because I'm scared.. I won't tell Minho."

What could he have said....

"Alright."

You woke up, head pounding, in the softest bed you've ever been in, as you opened your eyes you winced as the sun entering through soft grey curtains assaulted your already pained brain. You felt a breath against your hair and were about to jump away when the scent hit you... You looked around momentarily, it must be really early.

It wouldn't hurt.. You relaxed against his chest and hugged the arm he had around your waist. He was warm. Infectiously so. You felt warm in more ways than one. You smiled contentedly and closed your eyes again. Minho didn't have to know.

When you woke up again you heard voices, you sat up and slowly got out of Chan's bed. Your head throbbed slightly but you ignored it out of curiosity, you poked your head out the door and listened.

"I'm screwed, Hyunjin..." Chan said softly.

"If you tell Minho I'm sure he won't be that mad." Hyunjin replied.

Mad why? Because Chan helped me?

"Hyunjin." Chan said, more firmly. "I promised."

"Chan, it's completely human to feel like tha-"

"Hyunjin-ah!" Chan said a bit loudly before quieting himself. "It's not that I feel like that, even when I'm not feeling like THAT, I feel like..." Chan sighed deeply.

You backed up into the room. Feel like what... You wondered before grabbing your phone and texting Sua to come pick you up with a change of clothes.

When you got in Sua's car you looked at her.

"Do I have a lot to tell you?" She said giddily.

"I don't want to hear about what you did last night-" You started.

"Not me you dummy! The guy you met at the mall."

You turned to face her completely. "What about him?"

"He followed me on instagram this morning, I think he was seriously into you. He wants you to call him so he can take you out." She raised her brows stupidly.

"I-" you closed your mouth and thought about it for a moment, what harm could there be in going on one date? "I'll give him a call later."

"Atta girl!" Sua squealed before turning on her car and pulling out of Chan's apartment complex, "But guess what?"

"What?" You raised a brow.

"I SAID GUESS!" She wined.

"Ok, ok..." You racked your brain for a moment. "You bought new shoes?"

As Sua came to an intersection she slowed to halt at the red light and smacked your arm. "No."

"OW!" You huffed. "Tell me."

"I got Seungmin's number!"

You blinked. "How?"

She smiled, "Well, as I was going home with that guy yesterday Seungmin happened to be around and saved me-"

"Didn't you ask that guy to go home with you thou-"

"HUSH I'm not done!" She huffed, turning back to the road as the light turned green. "And Seungmin saved me and told me not to go home with strangers and if I get drunk again with no ride, I should call him." She sighed dreamily before her expression snapped to one of confusion. "How did you end up in Chan's apartment?" Her eyes widened, "DID YOU GUYS-"

"NO!" You shrieked. "No, he kept his distance."

"And you slept alone? YOU?!"

You pursed your lips. "When I woke up he was in bed too bu-"

"BUTT NAKED?!"

"SUA! NO! WE WERE CLOTHED!" You felt your face getting hot.

"You were drunk, in a man's house and you didn't do anything?? Not even kiss?"

"No." You slapped your cheeks. "We didn't do anything."

"But.. did you want to?" She glanced at you before looking back at the road.

"No." You rolled your eyes. Then you remembered. How he'd looked at you in his apartment, like he wanted to pounce on you. "Bu-"

"Did he want to do something?" Sua drove into a café's parking lot.

"I..." Your face felt hotter as you remembered how Chan held you. "I don't know..."

That was all Sua needed to ramble about how Chan must be pining over you. And it was for that reason you didn't mention what you'd heard Chan telling Hyunjin that morning.

You'd called Minseok that evening, he insisted that you stay home and get past your hangover and that he could meet you another day. Though it wasn't intentional, you and Minseok spoke almost on the daily, before he asked you if you wanted to go out for lunch. You were about ready to go out when someone knocked on your bedroom door. You opened it and blinked at the sight of Chan.

He was looking at his phone for something. "Minho wanted to know when you'd be back so we could get dri-" He froze as he looked up at you.

"Chan?" You tilted your head slightly.

"Uh.. You look really pretty." He said.

You looked down and smiled slightly.

"Who are you even going to meet up with?"

You opened your mouth then closed it, no one knew about Minseok except Sua and Minho. "A guy."

Chan visibly stiffened. "Who?"

"I'll tell you about him later-" You tried to move past him but he blocked the doorway with his body.

"Where did you get those?" He pointed at your earrings.

My date.. "Sua." You lied.

He nodded. "Okay.."

You moved past him and managed to dodge your brother's inventory check as you skipped to the door. Right as the bell rang.

You opened it and smiled at Minseok. He smiled gently before his gaze flicked behind you.

You looked back at Chan and smiled.

Chan wanted to kill that guy. He didn't like him one bit, not the way he smiled or the way he took your hand to lead you out. Nothing. But more than that, Minseok always always looked at Chan as if he'd won something, as if Chan had lost the battle and the war he didn't even know had started. Two into your relationship and Minseok still had that look for Chan. Two months.

Minho had invited Minseok along with the guys for drinks. The entire night Minseok was giving Chan sideways looks. Until Minho asked, "How did you meet Y/N?"

"Oh," Minseok smiled fondly at his drink. "I bumped into her at the mall and I made her a bit uncomfortable with how awkward of an apology I gave so.. I bought her a pair of earrings and gave her my number. I didn't expect her to call back really... But fate is nice.."

Chan's brows furrowed. "What kind of earrings?"

"Silver ones-" Minseok started.

"Half hoops?" Chan pressed, gripping his bottle.

"Yeah." Minseok said, "Small, silver, half hoops."

Chan leaned back in his chair. You'd lied... You'd lied to him. For Minseok..

"Channie-hyung-" Jeongin reached for him.

Chan pushed back his chair and smiled at Minho, "I'm going to head back early," He waved at the other men and rested his gaze on Minseok for a brief moment.

"You're drunk, let me at least call you a cab-" Minho started.

"I want to walk."

"It's dar-"

"Goodnight guys." Chan turned and left them all at the table in confusion.

Hyunjin shot Seungmin a knowing look and kept drinking.

Chan wandered aimlessly for a while, lost in thought. He eventually found himself at a playground and sat down on a swing. As he swung back and forth, he thought about you and Minseok. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all..

He felt his eyes welling with tears. "What are you even crying about Chris?!" He groaned in frustration and wiped the tears from his eyes.

He cared too much, about you and Minho. He cared too much to see you with someone else. He cared so much that it hurt to care. Even as he took deep breaths to compose himself he couldn't stop the hot salty tears streaming down his cheeks.. But-

"Channie?"

He looked up at the sound of your voice. You stood there, in a sweater that definitely wasn't yours... It was probably Minseok's... and a pair of sweatpants.

"Why are you crying?" You sat in the swing next to him and stared at him.

If only you knew...

"I've just been thinking recently." He muttered.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Chan stared at you for a long moment and then simply leaned over and rested his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

You stared blankly for a moment before relaxing and stroking his dark hair gently.

"Can I ask you something.." He muttered against your skin and you felt a chill go down your spine.

"Anything..." You breathed.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes. "Will you stop me?"

"From doing what?" You stared at him in confusion for a moment before he leaned into you, breath mingling with yours.

"This.." He muttered, plump lips grazing yours before they finally met your own in a gentle kiss. He pulled away for a moment, giving you the opportunity to shout at him, to slap him and ask if he was okay mentally.

But you didn't..

And he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue prodding at your lips for entry. You clutched Chan's shirt as his tongue slid into your mouth, the taste of alcohol still on his lips, but you didn't pull away. Not when he kissed you like that, kissed you like he'd been meaning to for months... years even. You didn't pull away even as you felt the burn of your lungs begging for air. But he pulled awa, his eyes dark, pupils blown, clouding over with something you hadn't seen before.

You sat up in bed and slapped your flushed cheeks. What on earth were you thinking...

Chan noticed you were steering clear of him like the plague. You were going back to school soon so maybe that's why. He saw you when he and Jeongin came over to see Minho but even then you only waved at him at the door and kept about your business. Maybe he had done wrong kissing you like that.

You were leaving again. Bags all packed and ready to go back to your dorm.

"AH!" Changbin hugged ypu tightly. "You're leaving us again! Who will come to Changbin Salon if you go!"

You giggled. "I'll be back in a few months for Christmas guys. Don't worry about me-"

"Y/nnie." Minho sighed, smoothing out her clothes, "Just take care of yourself. Don't get drunk. Don't stay up late. Don't talk to weirdos-"

You hugged your brother and rolled your eyes. "Whatever."

Your parents started bickering with you about taking care of yourself.

You gave Minseok a kiss and he hugged you tightly, whispering something in your ear that made you giggle.

You finally looked at Chan and smiled.

Chan smiled too, eyes widening in shock slightly as you hugged him tightly. He relaxed and hugged you back. "Take care."

You nodded, "Bye!" You got into your car right as Changbin and Minho finished throwing your stuff into the trunk.

They all waved as you pulled out of the driveway, and you were gone again...

Chan stuck around for a bit longer chatting with Minho and your parents before deciding to go home. As Chan made his way to his car he stopped as he heard someone.

"Chan."

Chan turned and stared at Minseok. "Huh?"

"Do yourself a favor," Minseok pulled out his own car keys and unlocked his vehicle. "And stay away from Y/N. 'Kay?"

Chan raised a brow. "Is there a problem with me being around her?"

"A little bird told me, you just want to get your dick wet. So I suggest you find someone else." Minseok shrugged.

He stared at the other man for a long moment. "What if... I just want to take her from you?"

Minseok's eyes went wide.

Chan unlocked his car and got in before Minseok could say anything.

You'd been in school for a couple of months, sure, you called Minseok everyday, it didn't kill the feeling of him being so far away though.

You had gotten back from class and were doing your homework when you got a text from Minseok. You smiled slightly and picked up your phone to look at it. As you read his message you rolled your eyes and called him

He answered almost immediately. "AH! Baby. It feels like I haven't talked to you in forever."

You rolled your eyes and giggled. "We talked this morning."

"Exactly, forever." He joked.

You put the phone on speaker and set it down as you started getting your materials for studying. "When did you get so needy?"

"When did you get so distant?" he countered.

You laughed. "I'll be around soon."

"Take your time with your studies.. I don't want to mess up your brain right now."

You smiled. "It's fine really."

"I'm gonna be really busy soon."

"Oh?" You flipped through your textbook, taking notes. "With what?"

"Work stuff." he said dismissively.

"Don't overwork yourself."

"Says you."

You pursed your lips and sighed. "Minseok."

"AAH! Okay.. I have to go now, sleep early. Make sure you eat. AND DRINK WATER." He said.

"Okay. Good night baby."

"Good night y/nnie."

You hung up and leaned back in your chair thoughtfully. You should visit home soon..

The next following day you called Minseok after class he didn't answer. You shrugged it off and assumed he was busy with work as he said he would be.

You called Jisung and he ranted to you about how Minho was being annoying and how Seungmin was bouncing off the walls about Sua.

You smiled as you thought about how vividly she used to squeal about Seungmin. As you were about to go to sleep, your phone rang and you looked at the contact, smiling at your boyfriends ID before answering.

"Hey love, sorry I didn't answer. I got held up at work." he said.

"It's fine," You rolled onto your back and put the phone on speaker, yawning as you asked, "Anything happen at home?"

"You sound tired." he aid, "And no."

You hummed. "I am tired."

"Sleep. You have classes tomorrow."

"Fuck class. I'd rather stay up listening to you."

"When did you get so needy?" He teased.

You giggled.

As you listened to Minseok rant about work and other things you relaxed and fell asleep even though you said you wouldn't..

You didn't notice it at first, but almost a month later, you realized that Minseok never answered your calls; he always called you back, and always very late. You could try to blame it on his work, but something just didn't sit right with you. But you ignored the feeling. Planning to visit during your break in the fall and catch up with everyone.

What reason did you not have to trust Minseok?

When you called him the day before your trip he didn't answer. Which didn't surprise you at all. But you still felt a small pang as you looked at the box you'd purchased just a week earlier. What was surprising was that he didn't call you back.

Still you got in your car the next morning, and drove all the way back home.

Minho and your parents greeted you with bear hugs and kisses.

You went out with Minho later that day to go eat and after an intense game of rock paper scissors, you had to go to the front and order. As you made your order and Minho's you noticed Chan sitting at a table with a very pretty woman. You finished your orders and approached waving slightly at Chan.

He looked at you and smiled. "You're back in town already? How's school?"

You laughed. "I'm on break. School's fine." You noticed the way the girl stirred her drink with her straw. "Who's this?" You asked.

Chan looked at her then back at you. "Yeojin. She's a friend."

The girl gave you a small smile but you felt a bit tense. As if you were challenging her... "It's nice to meet you." She extended her hand out out you."

"Likewise." You smiled and took her hand gently shaking it before turning back to Chan, "I've gotta go, maybe we'll see each other around?"

He nodded. "It was nice seeing you." As you walked away you noticed how he spoke to Yeojin so passionately, taking her hands in his. Your heart panged. You should be happy... You should be happy he finally got over what he told Hyunjin that day... Yet it annoyed you. It made you so mad you wanted to scream. But you didn't. You ignored the feeling. You had Minseok. What more could you need?

"Have you heard from Minseok?" You asked your brother as he spun in the spinning chair by your desk.

"Not recently why?" He looked at you.

You shrugged, looking at your phone. You checked Minho's location and saw he was still at work. You'd wait for him to get to his apartment then you'd surprise him with your gift and everything would be good. "He's been stressing about work recently... I just wanted to make sure he's alright."

"Go see him then." Minho said, rolling his eyes.

"When he gets back from work." You smiled, looking at the box in your bag.

So almost two hours later, when you checked your phone and saw he was finally home. You took a cab to his apartment and eagerly, pushed the button at the elevator. You jumped a bit before calming yourself. It was just Minseok... your sweet, caring, affectionate, handsome man.

Yet as you got to his floor, as you approached his door something in you twisted. You felt wary for a reason you couldn't explain. Even as you typed the passcode for his lock and it beeped in affirmation, as you opened the door to his dark apartment, something in you still lurched in suspense. Like your body knew what was coming and your heart and mind couldn't accept it. Even as you rounded the corner of the hall and saw an extra pair of shoes by the entrance.

Heels..

You still walked through the living room and kitchen area. Right down to the other hall and to Minseok's bedroom door. Even as you heard them through the crack in the door you opened it.. and the tears that had been welling in your eyes since you walked into the dark apartment finally fell at the sight of Minseok, his dick buried in some other girl.

"Cho Minseok."

He sprang up, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as he finally took in your prescene.

You threw the box on the floor and whispered. "You asshole."

"Y/n!" You ran to the elevator and got in just in time to turn and see him running as the elevator closed, bedsheet wrapped around his waist as he called after you.

As the elevator went down your mind and heart finally caught up with the rest of your body and you fell to the cold floor and cried.

The last place Chan expected to see you, was bumbling down the street at night. Drunk.

Yet when he finally convinced you to get in his car he groaned and looked at you. "What on earth are you doing?"

You didn't answer, staring blankly out of the car window.

"I'll call Minseok to come get you-"

"Don't." You said quietly.

"Y/n." He sighed. "Minseok won't judge you for getting drunk, he probably won't tell Minho eithe-"

"Minseok is busy right now!" You snapped.

Chan stared at you. "Busy with what?"

"How is it your business?" You snapped. "You hate Minseok, I get it. but our relationship isn't your business."

"When are you going to stop him from running all over you, Y/N!?" Chan shouted.

You froze."Why do you care... go back to Yeojin."

Chan stared at you. "i have nothing with her..."

You took a few shaky breaths before you buried your face in your hands.

Chan took your hand and squeezed it gently whispering. "What happened?"

You looked at him, his coffee colored eyes so sincere. No judgement or ulterior motives, nothing but patience and empathy.

You leaned against him over the console. "He's with someone else."

"Since when?" He asked, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

"I don't fucking know and I don't give a damn."

He hummed. "You wanna go home?"

"I don't want an earful from Minho." You said, closing your eyes.

Chan pulled away and started the car. The alcohol finally claimed your consciousness. You woke up a while later on Chan's bed, you sat up, still a bit tipsy. You stood from the bed and stumbled slightly as you walked. You saw Chan on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"You left me alone again..." you said softly.

Chan looked at you. "I thought you'd be alright."

You stared at him.

"Come here.." he muttered.

You moved to him and sat beside him on the couch, leaning into hiss body heat.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, then your mouth ran faster than your brain could help and you asked. "Do you like me..."

Chan's body stiffened.

"Be honest.."

"Y/n."

"Tell me."

"Minho would be angry at me-"

"CHAN!" You snapped, pulling away from him. "No... I understand. No one really likes me because I'm jus-"

He cut you off, kissing you. Your eyes widened momentarily before you relaxed and kissed him back. Your already cloudy mind felt like it was covered by a drape of emotion you couldn't understand, taking all your air away, wrapping itself around you like an anaconda. It squeezed the very passion from your veins and pushed it all into that kiss.

Chan pulled away for air first and your eyes met as he finally whispered. "I don't like you. I love you."

You kissed him again as he leaned into you, pinning you to the couch. His lips moved from yours to your jaw and neck before he froze. Minho... He started to pull away. "Y/n we can't-"

You grabbed his face in your hands and whispered, tears brimming in your eyes, "Please..."

Chan couldn't tell in the rush of getting you from the couch into his room how he ended up beneath you. Staring up into your pretty eyes before you leaned down to kiss him, his tongue fought with yours as your hands lifted his shirt and ran over his chiseled abdomen. When you moaned softly into his mouth something in his snapped and he grabbed you. Flipping you both and pinning you to the bed, staring down at you.

You smiled up at him and he rolled his eyes before kissing you agan, his lips moving to attack your neck and collar bones before he pulled off your shirt. You whined and tugged at his before he pulled it over his head and tossed his somewhere. You reached up and caressed his stomach before he took your hand in his and your fingers intertwined as he pinned it to the bed.

"We shouldn't..." He mumbled against your lips.

"Want you to.." You whispered.

"Fuck.." he moaned softly against your lips and rubbed his crotch against your clothed heat.

You pulled your hands free and wrapped them around him, pulling him down to you. Your world seemed to blur and darken, your only focus the man above you. How he worshipped you, lips moving from your jaw to your throat, decorating your skin with love bites. Moving lower and pulling your pants down slowly.

It wasn't painful or rushed. He kissed you slowly, filling you to the brim and more, each thrust met with soft cry from you. His hands at your hip pulling you into each push of his pelvis against yours. He leaned down and kissed you, his body caging you in, you held onto him tightly, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he bucked into you again and again. Knocking the air from your lungs every time he fucked into you, pushing deep, deep.

Mesmerized by the sight of of your pussy engulfing his cock as you whimpered and mewled beneath him.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He mumbled in your ear. "Gonna milk me dry, sweet girl?"

Your back arched off the bed at that, Chan groaned and reached between you rubbing your sensitive clit.

"Cum for me princess." He breathed into your neck, pulling out slowly before stuffing his cock into you roughly again.

"Channie!" Your pussy clenched tightly around hiss manhood and he pulled out. Pumping his cock until his release shot onto your breasts and stomach.

He held himself over you. "Fuck..." He dragged himself up to get something to clean you but when he came his eyes went wide at the sight of your hands on your face the soft sound of your sobs reaching his earss. "Y/N- I shouldn't have. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry-"

"Not you." You said, taking a deep shaky breath.

"Then-"

You took your hands away from your face and smiled. "I love you Chan.."

He smiled gently and kissed your forehead before cleaning you and getting back into bed.

"Can I ask you a question?" You said in the quiet darkness.

"Huh?" He turned to you.

"Did you replace Gudetama?"

Chan smiled. "Was it so obvious?"

"It smelled like your cologne.."

"You paid attention to how I smelled?" he gasped in shock.

"Shut up." You smacked his chest and rolled your eyes despite your face going hot.

He smirked and kissed the top of your head. "I don't mind."

You rolled your eyes but moved closer, relaxing into his warm embrace before falling asleep.

Chan hugged you to his chest, staring up at the ceiling as he caressed your hair. He heard something buzz and looked at your phone on his bedside table. He took in your peacefully sleeping face and smiled about to ignore it. Then it rang.

He moved away from you slowly and reached over you grabbing the jingling device. Minseok's face flashed across your screen. Chan made a face and answered, pulling the covers over your bare body before bringing the phone to his ear.

"Y/N! I'm so glad you finally answered! Baby it's not what you thought! I don't even know her real-"

"Y/n is busy," Chan said, looking at you sleeping.

"Chan?" Minseok asked, confused. "Pass her the phone."

"She's exhausted," Chan said, "and it's because of you. I doubt she'll call you back, so please don't call my girl's number again."

"YOUR GIRL??" He shouted on the other end of the line. "BANG CHAN! THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Chan smiled to himself as he said. "Going to sleep with my girlfriend." He got back into bed and smiled at your sleeping face. "Good bye Minseok."

"Oh, Chan I swear-"

Chan hung up and pulled you close to him again.

"What was that about?" You asked half asleep.

"Nothing." Chan kissed your forehead. "Go to sleep."

Chan drove you home the next morning. You were still a bit sad, but as you unlocked the front door your eyes widened at the sight of a disheveled looking Minseok sitting in your kitchen with your elder brother. Chan followed close behind you, his eyes narrowing when he saw the men.

"Y/N!" Minseok jumped from his seat and ran to you.

"Don't touch me!" You shouted as he tried to hug you.

Minho turned to you and Chan. "Minseok told me everything."

"Then why would you let him in-" You started.

"Bang Chan." Minho said quietly. "Get out."

"Minho-" Chan started.

"Get out!" your brother shouted.

"Y/n baby what happened?" Minseok touched your face and you slapped him away.

"What did you tell him?!" You pointed a finger at Minseok.

"What there was to be said." He grabbed your hands and you pulled away.

"Minho. I know what you're thinking-" Chan tried to calm your brother who was standing up now.

"Oh you do?!" Minho said, clearly getting aggravated by Chan's prescence.

"Listen to me-" Chan said, putting his hands up as MInho approached.

But he was cut off by punch to the face that made your eyes widen.

"Bro-" You tried to grab Minho but Minseok grabbed your hand.

"Let's talk about this-" He said before you slapped him hard.

"I told you to stay away from my sister." Minho said, walking up to Chan as he took several steps back.

"Minho let me explain!" Chan said, trying to stay out of his friend's range.

"There's nothing to explain!" Your brother shouted.

"Bro please!" Chan tried.

"Minho!" You grabbed your brother's arm.

He whipped around to face you. "You can't seriously defend him! Y/N!"

"Maybe I am!" You shouted, you walked between Chan and Minho. "No.. I am defending him. He didn't do anything wrong."

Your brother stared at you before looking at Chan and muttering. "Leave."

"Minho." You said softly.

Chan bit his lip before grabbing Minseok and dragging him out with him.

"Why would you do that?!" You shouted as Chan slammed the door behind him.

"Chan wouldn't care about you! IF you knew LIKE I DO you'd understand!" Minho yelled back.

"I don't know him like you do! BUt you should've let him explain!"

"What was there to explain?! He dragged you to bed when you were drunk-"

"DO YOU KNOW WHY?!" You cut him off. "MINSEOK IS AN ASSHOLE! Minseok cheated on me! Chan didn't want to go that far. I asked him to! I like Chan A LOT! Whatever rule or whatever shit you have that keeps me from being with him needs to stop..." You trailed off. "Because you might lose me too."

Your brother stood there in shock as you ran up the stairs.

It was a week later when Chan was out with Jisung, Hyunjin, and Changbin.

"Just tell Minho you're sorry." Changbin said sipping his cola as the three waited for their food.

"He wouldn't even let me talk." Chan groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Tragic really." Jisung sighed.

Chan and Changbin looked at their friend with blank expressions as if to say be fricking for real.

Jisung sipped his drink. "I think you should just wait a bit. You know? I doubt Minho will stay mad forever, he's your good friend..."

Chan nodded. "I should just apologize whenever he calms down."

"If he doesn't just walk away from the toxic controlling friend." Hyunjin shook his head.

"Apologize now then."

Hyunjin jumped in fear at Minho's voice. "HYUNG!"

Minho looked at Hyunjin. "You'll eat tissues later."

Chan stared at Minho. "How did you even know I was here?"

Jisung looked completely invested in the bubbles floating in his soda suddenly.

Minho laughed and Chan sighed before standing. "Minho I-"

"I'm sorry for punching you." Minho said, "I'm sorry for accusing you of... things... and I'm sorry for making you stay away from Y/N..."

Chan smiled at his friend. "It's alright, I mean I didn't say I liked her before you threw that ban on me suddenly.. I'm sorry too."

The men smiled at each other.

"Hug it out! Hug it out Hug it out! Hug it-" Hyunjin started only to shrink away in fear as Minho grabbed a bunch of napkins from the dispenser on the table.

You laughed and Chan turned to you. "You're here.."

"Someone had to stop Min if he ended up attacking someone." You smiled.

"THEN HELP ME!" Hyunjin started only to get a mouthful of tissues.

You giggled and smiled at Chan as MInho gave him a look.

"May I kiss you princes?" Chan smirked, leaning into you.

MInho acted like he was going to vomit. And Jisung dramatically passed out.

"You may."

Chan pressed his lip against yours.

"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH!" MInho said rolling his eyes. "You should compensate me for the mental and emotional distress I went through, I say buy me pizza!"

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@asahisimpnation, @juskz

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan stray kids #chan stray kids #chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan skz #bang chan skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #chan x reader #bangchan #bang chan x female reader #khxndlewrites

[flavorcountry]

I got a cold and watched that Jenny Nicholson video about the Star Wars hotel (it's very good) and fully lost my mind: even after experiencing a comprehensive four-hour deconstruction of why it didn't work for Star Wars, I still think a version of this would absolutely work for Star Trek. Take my hand and walk with me on my journey into madness, where I have infinite money, talent, and team to make it all happen!!

Overall vibe

If you want to make a hotel/resort experience that takes place inside a fake spaceship, I still think Star Trek is the way to go: so much of Star Trek takes place on ships, and we've seen the rooms are pretty nice!! Like the Star Wars one, my Star Trek hotel is also a simulated starship, but with better rooms and more fun stuff to do.

Are you ready for this shit

Can you tell I drew this myself

You'll arrive at Farpoint Station,* where the concierge checks you in and your luggage gets whisked away by station staff. Gift shop's also here. When you're checked in and ready to head to your room, you're brought to one of several transporter rooms. If you never went to the Star Trek Experience at the Vegas Hilton when it was active, I am truly sorry for you, because they had a ride whose boarding process included getting beamed away: you and your pals were herded into a zone where you were clearly meant to board a run-of-the-mill 20th-century simulator ride, and then there were jets of mist and a sound and suddenly you were in a transporter room on board the goddamn USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D. It was fucking magical and I never, ever want it explained to me. Anyway, that's what happens to you at my Star Trek hotel: you step onto a transporter pad and get beamed from Farpoint to a Galaxy-class Federation starship. Exit the transporter room and walk down the ship's corridor to take the turbolifts to Cargo Bay 1, where a "temporary muster point" has been set up (this is where the guest services desks will be), or just follow the lit-up companel signs to your cabin. Yes, it will look like guest quarters aboard the Enterprise-D, more or less — maybe a little smaller — but it'll have the carpet, the plant, the glass coffee table, and most importantly a window that looks out into space.

Or!!! If you booked the resort, keep heading down the hallway and take another turbolift to a different section of the ship where the holodeck entrances are. The holodecks, naturally, are running a Risa program, so you walk through the doors and under the arch and suddenly you're outdoors looking at a beautiful landscape with a pool and whatnot, plus the resort accommodations where the more conventional fancy rooms are, and also the restaurants and entertainment venues, all themed. There's a Quark's. There's a Klingon bar and grill. A Bolian salon/spa. Talaxian arcade?? Nausicaan axe-throwing pit?!?! Come on!!!!!!!!!

Here, have a floor plan

Key learnings

Two things stuck out to me that the Star Wars hotel fucked up that I think the Star Trek version can do better:

🤷‍♀️ LARP too complicated: Give 'em credit where it's due, the Star Wars hotel fucking swung for the fences trying to make a multi-hero story guests could integrate with, but it just didn't work. Technical failures! Possible conceptual flaws! Too much stuff packed into the schedule!

The fix: Just make it mostly a hotel most of the time. One or two weekends a month, there's a two-day fully-immersive LARP adventure that people explicitly book separately, and it's more expensive (more on that later). But at all times, hotel staff will be in uniform with division colors that make sense: concierge and guest relations in red, support and janitorial in gold, teal for any medical personnel. I think that means the people working in food services have to wear that plaid/vest combo the Ten-Forward staff have on, but there are certainly worse outfits.

🌴 No resort: The food at the Star Wars hotel was good, but there was no pool and no other luxury resort type stuff to do. It didn't sound relaxing.

The fix: Putting an actual resort in the Star Trek hotel under the guise of a permanently-running Risan holodeck program. The sheer elegance of it!! When the weather is bad, hotel staff in gold uniforms can make apologetic comments about how the sim's malfunctioning.

Roleplay though

People are going to want to stay onboard the ship. That's good! The thing about the ship cabins is you can build them in maybe two semicircular layers (the rooms will need to be curved because these are quarters onboard the saucer section, naturally) and just bury them underground. They don't need real windows — you're putting screens in that'll show a space view, especially when the ship goes to warp and you can see those rainbow trails. Inside the semicircle there's a lot of space where you can put the other, bigger sets: the bridge, main engineering, Ten-Forward, etc. None of those have real windows either, and also I don't think it matters where you put them physically: just stick a pretend turbolift in front of all the entrances and make guests take those whenever they need to go there! One thing we're also doing is putting little hidden speakers everywhere that put out a small amount of shipboard white noise; it may not even be noticeable on a conscious level, but it'll be there and it'll be soothing. This speaker network is also a great way to make an actual announcement if there's a real park emergency.

During most of the month, I think the bridge and main engineering are mostly just photo ops — maybe you have to book a timeslot? Just so you're guaranteed some time with just you and your buddies? But I also think there should be opportunities for what I'm going to call mini-LARPing: you and your pals can book an hour-long session and the staff trains and then runs you through a short scenario. If you've ever played Artemis or the actual Star Trek VR bridge crew game they put out a while ago, you know where I'm going with this: for however long, you and your friends are now the crew of a genuine-ass Federation starship trying to survive a battle! It's fuckin' Kobayashi Maru time, motherfuckers!! Everyone gets their own station! Lights flicker! Mist shoots out of stuff! The whole bridge shakes! There might be a warp core problem — better call down to main engineering! Whoever's down there gets escape room-style minigames and puzzles to work out and help their shipmates. At some point — and this will happen in every run of every scenario — there'll be a very mist-forward "coolant leak" near the warp core that forces whoever's in the room to duck and roll beneath a descending garage-style blast door before heading up to the bridge to activate their station up there; bonus points if the player can work in a "We lost a lot of good people down there, Captain." Maybe there's an actor in makeup who menaces the crew on the main viewer from time to time (pick beforehand from a list of villains! want to fight Klingons? Romulans? a rogue Borg tactical sphere? etc). Can you see it? I can see it, and it fucking rules.

I must at this point mention that in my world, you can buy an add-on where a camera crew joins you, and they cut up the footage afterward to make you and your pals your very own mini-episode. Yes the editing and post-production are expensive and time-consuming; I'm creating jobs here!!!! Maybe …… okay, hear me out: there's an array of hidden fixed cameras and microphones built discreetly into the set, and also players are issued a combadge with an individual RFID tracker that pings the cams and mics, so they only save footage when a player comes close. After the players are done, a machine algorithm uses the data gathered to assemble a rough timeline of each player's material and create a draft movie that a human editor can pick up and fine-tune. Yeah?? When you check out, you get handed a USB drive that looks like an isolinear chip with your mini movie on it, and maybe another one with all the raw footage just in case you're feeling ambitious!!!!

For one or two other weekends during every month, there's a heavily advertised, much more involved, and way spendier LARP for people who really want to get into it. It takes place over two days. There are lots more actors portraying characters necessary for the plot/gameplay. Don't bother packing for the daytime: all players are issued a uniform they get to keep afterward. Do I have any details on the scenario or RP? I do not. But I fully believe it's possible to construct something you could run over the course of a weekend that would keep a hundred paying guests occupied, amused, and delighted, provided you have a truly ridiculous amount of money and people, which I do because this is utter fantasyland.

Also it probably won't cost six grand. Probably??

Let's gooooooooooooo

The rest of the time — and I cannot stress this enough — the Star Trek hotel is just a very heavily and specifically themed all-inclusive resort that has nice, fancy rooms and luxury amenities plus bookable ship cabins and opportunities for photo shoots or quick one-shot roleplay adventures for the real heads. You don't ever have to enter those latter parts if you don't want to! You can just hang out at the resort and have fun with all the themed entertainment, which I must stress is going to be both in-universe plausible and great, with something for everybody. Yes, there'll be a daycare, and yes, Flotter will be there in some capacity to entertain the kids. The food hall is my favorite part by far; I could pitch you Trek restaurant concepts all day. Romulan gourmet soup stand. Gummi candy store staffed by Ferengi where all the offerings are shaped like alien bugs. A vending machine where you can get a jumja stick or a three-pack of those nutrient pucks Picard and his new friends kept getting in "Allegiance." There will be an entire plant-based food vendor with a wide variety of delicious options for all meals, and it will be run by Vulcans.

A word on the gift shop

Question for you: have you ever watched a Star Trek show and seen a Starfleet officer pull on a jacket or shoulder a duffel bag that had the words "STAR TREK" on it? If so, then friend, I want to know where you get your hallucinogens because I want to experience this exactly once. All of the gift shops on my hotel grounds sell responsibly sourced, highly thought-out, well-made items that would be in-world plausible and have no obvious branding. Of course you can get a hand-carved horga'hn, but let's go bigger. Why not a light-up Tox Uthat for your nightstand? Ressikan flute for you, queen? How about a whole-ass knife store that's nothing but various kinds of Klingon cutlery? There will absolutely be an entire tailor's shop whose whole job is to put you in the Starfleet uniform of your choice; there may or may not be a Cardassian managing the place who's got a 50/50 cheerful/menacing vibe going on. There'll be not one but two stores that sell little models of ships: the regular ones and the gold ones. Don't tell me you can't picture it!!!!!

I think that's about it

Thank you for coming along with me on this bespoke journey into 100% insanity; now can somebody put me in touch with the Star Trek licensing people and also give me a billion dollars to build all this? Okay, thanks a lot!!

For timeline purposes and because it's fun, I'm positing a version of Farpoint that got built after the events of the TNG premiere where the Denebians got their act together and just built a normal surface base without suborning an interstellar lifeform.

#star trek #we need this #you know it would work

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Hiii! Could you imagine one where the reader finds out she's pregnant during one of Spencer's missions and when he comes home she has a crisis and ends up feeling ill and Spencer doesn't know how to help and the reader doesn't know how to tell him she's pregnant. (Both are already married)

i took this opportunity to set my pregnant!reader series into the future cause i already planned for them to have another child. request is tweaked justttt a little.

“my dear sweet penny, can you hit me with a bus? i want this misery to end.” you’ve been hit with the worst stomach bug or flu or just something that’s been lasting since spencer went on his case, five days ago.

your mom took your daughter for the day when you realized you weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon and you called in your reinforcement of one penelope garcia. the case ended yesterday but the team had to stay an extra day due to weather in their state, so penelope has been keeping you company for the past two days. it was nice to have an adult conversation instead of bluey and the same princess movies.

“okay, if you’re pleading for death that means it’s time to head over to a hospital. i don’t want spencer to hypothetically bite my head off if something happens to you.” her bright blonde hair was your shining sun in your darkened bedroom. and her jewelry were loud gongs with each step she took. “i hate to sound like a bitch but can you like, be the opposite of yourself today?” moaning and groaning as you tried pushing off the tossed sheets.

“yeah, you need a doctor. cause and i quote ‘penny if i even say to change yourself i’ve been abducted and that’s an alien.’ hopefully they can give you good drugs.”

at the hospital they took some blood, made you pee and just did a bunch of other check ups when it was shown you were sick with anything. so after an hour or so your doctor renters the sterile room with his clipboard and a poker face. “well, you’re not sick, but you are pregnant. we’ll get an ultrasound in here to check on the fetus.” talk talk talk and then he left again, leaving you and penelope open mouthed shocked.

“holy shit,” breathing out as your hand rubbed over your still small belly. “i told spencer i couldn’t keep my hands to myself.” telling that to the ceiling.

“oh, i’ll have another godchild! i’m so happy to live vicariously through you.” penelope stood at your side and smiled down at you. you turned your head towards her, “you know when they’re older, you’ll be our go-to babysitter then. so just be prepared for that.”

with the ultrasound done they confirmed you were almost done with your first trimester and that left you a bit shocked. you were three months pregnant but didn’t know, now you understand how some of those other ladies feel. but you were excited for another, but then you were done, seriously.

you tried calling spencer after leaving but his phone when to voicemail, but you didn’t think anything of it. probably feel asleep or out doing something with his team. so when you arrived to your mom’s place you were a bit surprised to see your husband holding your daughter and swinging her around.

“you’re back!” penny the first to speak and move further into the home. spencer and anna both turned their heads and smiled at the bright lady. “auntie penny!” your annabeth squealed with an arm out.

she happily took her from spencer’s hold and moved her away so you could talk with spencer. his puppy eyes and downturn mouth made your heart soar, oh how he’s gonna get you into so much trouble.

“you feeling better? your mom said it’s been a week.” pulling you into his hold, cheek pressed into his chest as his palms rubbed over your shoulder blades and spine. you sighed, “yeah, penny took me to the doctor. turns out i wasn’t sick… i was- i am pregnant.”

spencer’s hands stopped and leaned back, “what?” his brows raised into his curling locks. “how far along?” “three months…” biting into your bottom lip as you watched him go through his mental calendar. you both knew your period was irregular, that’s why you didn’t think anything of it.

“so it must’ve been sometime after annie’s fourth birthday,” spencer came to the conclusion. leaned in to peck your forehead, “are you okay with another?” always making sure you were okay with the decision.

you smiled up at him with a twinkle in your eyes, “absolutely.”

#erin’s blurb requests #a 1k special #erin writes spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x pregnant!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol Use; Allusions to Attempted Suicide; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Past Teenage Crush; Yearning and Longing Galore; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: This is a deeply, deeply unserious chapter, and I make no apologies—I was taken away by whimsy!!!!

Apologies however, for the French people slander, I went on a truly heinous date with a oui oui baguette loser last month. I’m still working through my anger.

Word Count: 13.4K

Read on AO3

2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

They appear at the break of dawn, the young man and the boy. 

“How many heads’ve you got total?” 

Joel appraises him, the fresh-faced look, a boy just crossed over into the cusp of manhood—though he’s large and strong and earnest in the eyes. He’d be a good hire, if not for—

He glances over at the young boy sitting on the bunk’s couch, snickering quietly with Ellie as his brother tries to barter a place for the two of them. 

“Near to thirty large about now. We’re fixin’ to breed, but we’re pushin’ our limitations.”

“So you need hands,” he says eagerly. 

“We do,” Joel returns slowly, chewing on the mint he’d plucked from out front. His stomach is in knots, has been since—days and days and days ago, last night, and so much worse now. There’s a sick heat settled deep that he doesn’t know how he’ll scourge out and quick. 

“Listen, I know it’s unconventional, but—”

“Where’s his parents?” He tips his chin at the boy, and Ellie peers slyly over her shoulder at him. He’ll get hell for this later, he knows, she knows. 

“Our momma’s down south—by way of Odessa. She cowboys during the summer too, and—”

Joel sits up in his seat. “Texas?”

“Come on, Texas,” Tommy slinks behind him, sneaking an arm over his shoulder to thump Joel roughly on the chest. “Just say yes.” He lets out a gruff sound masking a cough, fucking Tommy, and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ellie rise from the sofa and leave the bunk quietly with a parting pat on the boy's head. 

“You’re from Texas, too?” The young man asks brightly, that look of hope in his eyes that Joel’s about to quash. 

“We’re from Austin,” Tommy says from the coffee pot, his mustache spreading wide over a shit-eating grin. “Southerners way up here, we gotta stay united amongst all these Yanks’,” his brother puts on the drawl heavy, and Joel rolls his eyes. Clown. 

“Listen, Henry,” he says, trying to turn the conversation back to business. He looks at the boy again, the back of the small head bent and silent and something that could, perhaps, be thought of as guilt pulses through him, but to be honest, there’s so much of that moving about Joel’s system right about now, that it’s just one more drop of poison filling his cup. It doesn’t matter. He needs to do what’s right.

For who? He can’t very well tell yet.  

“I’m sure you’re a hard worker, son, and I’d not hesitate to give you a place were we in different circumstances, but I just don’t see how this would work—”

Henry leans forward in his chair too, ready to plead his case, fight for his brother and the generously paying jobs the Kelly’s are famous for. There’s something about the boy newly turned man that reminds Joel of himself. Perhaps during that young and fragile youth of his twenties, when he’d been alone with a newborn baby, trying to figure out the whole world and himself. 

“I know it’s unconventional, but he’s a good kid. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and it’d only be for the summer, sir. We head back down for the start of the school year. It’s difficult, but it’s harder for my momma to get work with a kid than it is for me.” He trips over his words with the speed at which he’s spitting them at Joel, trying to convince him, and he knows that the fair thing would be to take them in. To give this man a chance the way Joel had been given one so many years ago, the mercy of safe harbor. But he’s got a finite amount of goodness in him now, he’s got to save it all for only one person. There’s none left for anyone else. And Joel doesn't want trouble, he’s got enough of that around here right about now. “He’s got his books and his summer worksheets, and he knows how to manage on his own while I work. I swear, he won’t be in any sort of way. You can—”

And then, amidst the young strangers' rambling plea, Joel's heart falls through his stomach. Here comes that trouble anyways. 

“What’s going on here?” In that soft, lovely voice that haunted his dreams last night. 

All the cowboys rise from their seats at the sound of your presence. 

From over your shoulder, Joel sees Ellie’s face twisted in a grimace at him, the flash of her middle finger and then her tongue. 

“Goddamnit, Ellie,” he growls low. 

You look exhausted, eyes red rimmed and swollen—as if you’d been crying all night, and Joel’s tongue is a swollen, poisoned thing in his mouth—a husk of guilt is all he is. He swallows convulsively, trying to find his words, trying to not scream at the thought of being what’s made you cry, trying not to look down the length of you and failing. Silky sleep shorts end way too high up on the long length of those too pretty thighs, an oversized pullover with Yale emblazoned across the front, a little hole at the neck and a large dark stain marr the front of it. You’ve got on a too big robe, dark and plaid, draped over your shoulders with your hair all a mess. He can see Ellie’s trying to pull it into some semblance of a braid behind your back discreetly while you stare at him with those eyes that, and he’s being damn honest now, fucking terrify him. Those puffy, ridiculous tan boots women wear, the impractical ones that become a sogging mess in the snow or wet despite the fact he understands they’re supposed to be worn in winter, are on your feet, two mismatched socks peek out above the tops. 

He’s pretty sure one of them has bombs with a capital ‘F’ in the tiny centers printed over it. The other, some sort of Easter bunny carrot print. Absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t help it, he notices it all. 

And worst of all, in your grip is that World’s Best Dad mug you’d sent the old fucker for Christmas several years ago, a little holiday fuck you from his best daughter. It’d been one of the years he hadn’t let you come home for the winter break, forced you to spend the holiday alone at that boarding school of yours. The whole ranch had known and whispered about it, and he’d felt embarrassed and offended on your behalf, that they’d all gossiped about the girl you were behind your back when they should’ve respected you for the woman you’d become one day, the one that’d eventually pay all of their earnings. 

And the jackass had the audacity to use the mug all the time afterwards. Joel was pretty sure it’d been his favorite. 

“We were just wrapping up,” Joel says, clearing his throat, finally finding his voice. It’s almost physically painful to look at you directly in the eyes, and the heat of shame and regret claws its way up his throat at the hollow look he sees there. You’re so angry at him, and he deserves it. 

“This is the new Kelly,” Ellie tells Henry, cutting him off, pressing you forward with her hands wrapped around your shoulders. Your shorts are way too short to be in here right now, and Joel feels something else, even hotter than shame, stirring inside him. “If you want work here, this is who you need to talk to. The big boss.”

“Miss Kelly,” Henry says reverently, pulling his cap off to press against his chest. “It’s a mighty fine honor gettin’ to meet you. I was just telling your foreman here,” he motions the cap towards Joel, and he feels like a bear who’s about to rip it out of his grip and stuff it down his throat. Fucking Ellie going and snitching on him. “How me and my brother Henry travel for the summer. I’ve got letters here, I’ve worked at the King before, and have a number your man can call if he needs more references. I’ve got lots of experience and—”

“What will you do with him?” Your gaze is on the little boy, has been the entire time. Joel steps forward and over the back of the couch he sees the kid, Sam, has a comic book in his lap he’s been reading this whole time, while adults who should have no bearing on his life decide what will and will not be for him. “While you work—”

Joel looks back at you, and he knows already what it’ll be. 

Henry’s smile is wide and gleaming, putting on the charm. What he doesn’t see, what Joel does, is that bleak sadness in your gaze that he’d put there himself last night. He needs to speak with you, to explain, to make it right between the two of you. 

“He’s good at entertaining himself. I promise he won’t be in the way or nothin’. He’s got books and summer work, and he’s learning to play the guitar. He won’t be in the way,” Henry says again. 

“What about school?”

“We only travel during the summer. We’re back in Texas for the school year.” And at that, you finally look back at Joel, and his heart shoots from his belly to his throat, ready to be spit up at your feet. 

You watch him for a long searing moment, and there's such sadness there. He doesn’t know what would have been better, what would have been the correct recourse, how to make that look go away. To give you what you want? To do what he thinks is right or what should be right? He’d never thought, never considered anything like this. It’s all too much too fast, and he feels suddenly lost and childlike in the face of you and all you stand for. 

“They stay,” you say only for Joel. 

Henry lets out a whoop of victory, rushing forward to thank you profusely, but Jesse, who’s standing by the door, blocks his rush forward with a hand to his chest before he can get too close to the new boss. You’re for protecting now, above all else, it’s the unspoken word they all suddenly understand keenly. 

You stare solemnly at Joel for only a second longer, those sleep sloped doe eyes, before you’re turning without another word. 

-

“He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.” 

The cricket song is a symphony of sound around the two of you, and you’re suspended for a second, he sees it come on—a rose hued haze, and then blink-of-an-eye donning a look that spells nothing but disaster. He’s thrown off course by it for a single second, that girl fantasy glow, before you’re launching yourself at him, and then it’s nothing but a soft wet mouth, smoked fruit and fired oak, the slick of your tongue against his bottom lip as you kiss him.

You’re kissing him. 

He’s a frozen solid husk, eyes wide open as he stares down at the look on your face—something like agony. The tiny frown between your eyebrows, concentration, and a single diamond tear caught in the web of your lashes, and he can’t help but notice the soft press of your breasts against his chest, you’re not wearing a bra, before he’s shoving you back by the shoulders, scrambling to get as far away from you as quickly as he can.

His back hits the railing before he can get far enough. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits, but can’t help but lick his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting where you’ve just been. 

His stomach is suddenly hot.

You swallow convulsively, bleary eyed look turning to hurt, pressing your palm to your belly, twisting your fingers in the fabric of your sweater there. “I don’t— I didn’t—” Your eyelashes flutter shut, closing the hurt, confused look away from him for one blessed second. You press your other palm to your forehead, gripping yourself as if you’re trying to hold your very skin together. 

What do you think you’re doing? He enunciates each word like the lash of a whip, and then licks his lips again to soften those same blows for himself. 

Something is about to go inexplicably wrong here. Something already has. A tragedy worse than the death of a father

“I just thought that—” You blink your eyes open and they’re wet, and he’s about to bark at you to not fucking cry or he’ll lose it completely, but he swallows it or loses the thought to madness. He feels incomprehensibly insane, inconceivably triggered. 

This is like nothing he’d ever imagined, and it tilts him on his axis, skews his vision, headlights blinding you in a dead-on collision. 

What are you doing—thinking?

“I— I watched you grow up. I watched you—” You take an anxious step towards him, some word on your lips he can’t even make out because his hearing has gone out, and now he’s all of a sudden deaf in both ears instead of just one. He hardens his voice further. He makes sure you understand. “This is fucking wrong, and you need to get away from me right now,” reversing his movements, taking a threatening step forward, stomping his heavy boot against the floorboards beneath so that you’re jumping, skittering backwards like a frightened little rabbit. 

And Joel, the beast, crushing her beneath his foot. 

You wrap both of your hands around the delicate column of your throat; he imagines you’re holding in your hurt sounds, and it makes him even angrier. 

“Listen to me—” he starts again. 

But you cut him off, shaking your head, the confused sleep-look being blinked away so that now it’s spitting fire that is awake and angry in your gaze. “But you didn’t,” you say. “You barely know me. We’re almost strangers.” A scoff, and then switching again to soft, to girl-like, to hurt: “And I’m all grown up now, Joel.”

“I don’t know what you reckon is happenin’ here between us. Or what you think— what you—” He looks away, can’t bear the sight of it, you, fuck, he spits, again, fuck. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but—”

Then in a broken little voice grasping for straws, “But we were born on the same day,” and you say it like a question. Like it should mean more. Like, and he realizes it now, like it means the world. 

He turns back to look at you, and he feels full of everything but mercy—too much regret. “And what? What do you think that means? That we’re connected—meant to be?” His voice sounds full of cruelty. “Don’t be delusional. It’s also the day my daughter died. D’you know that?”

A blink. “What?”

“She died on my thirty-fourth birthday.” 

Again. “But… Wh—at?” Broken up word, and your chin does a little wobbling dance, jutting this way and that, and you have a dimple in your cheek that comes out when you’re happy, but also when you’re sad. When you’re about to cry. He sees it now, and starkly. 

He’s ruining something sacred. 

Joel steels himself. “Whatever it is you’ve made up in your mind about us, it’s a fantasy. Something not real that you need to let go of. Are you hearin’ me?”

“I— I think…” You won’t stop blinking, your hands look like they’re about to strangle you, and he steps forward as if to stop you or save you from yourself. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

But instead of saving, “Why would I? Why would I ever tell you that?” He does not want to hurt you, and yet he cannot help it, and Joel wonders if this is how your father felt every time he failed you—like a lesser man. “Wasn’t for you to know—it doesn’t mean the same thing to us.” That day. He makes himself clear: “Whatever child’s fantasy you’re still holding onto, you need to let it go.” 

-

He rushes out of the bunk after you, a growled, you little shit, at Ellie as he passes her. 

“Man, what’d you fuckin’ do?” She calls after him in that tone that tells him that of course she knows what’s happened. You two’ve never been able to keep a single thing from each other. Asshole! She shouts at his back as he catches up to your slowly retreating form. Your movements are sluggish, exhausted. 

He calls your name and tries to moderate his tone from being as aggressive as he feels right now. “We gotta talk.” He follows after you, hot on your heels and then jumping back like a scared mut when you spin around on your ridiculous boot to face him. 

“Speak.” It’s a high-handed tone, that one. One that says he’s the grunt here, and you the queen, that you’d both forgotten it last night, but the battlelines are clearly drawn now. There’ll be no more forgetting. 

And it’s all his fault. 

“You can’t—” His heart thumps and thumps and thumps like a pitiful thing. “You can’t undermine me in front of the boys like that. There’s a reason I was saying no.”

“Which is?”

“That the kid’ll be in the way.”

And you flinch and Joel prays for a gun to the back of the skull. Fucking Christ, but this is difficult.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gruffs. “You know what I mean. This is hard work we do here. I don’t want the kid gettin’ hurt, I don’t want to be responsible for that. What goes on here is on me. The people who get hurt, it’s all on me, and I take that responsibility damn serious.”

You tilt your head at him in that queer, inspecting way of yours. The one he’d watched you pull like a weapon against your father so many times. He finds he hates it now, detests it, being wielded against himself. You ignore his words, “What was your arrangement here—with him? How did this work with the ranch?”

There has been that thought always, and obviously, of you as something higher, that symbol of the family or the safe haven this place has been for Joel. The not-respect he had for your father, but surely the understanding—you've always been all wrapped up in that. He's at times felt grateful for your existence, perhaps, in ways. That something as good, as better, as you could exist in the same world Joel exists in. Perhaps he’d admired you in ways, even as a young girl, for your goodness, your sincerity. But he finds now, at this look of disdain you’re wearing against him, that he hates the feeling of being less than you, of not being good enough to even stand in your presence. 

He’s done wrong, marred it all in ugliness. He’s put himself in this position somehow, by hurting you, by confusing you, by wanting—

“I do what I need to, what the ranch needs. Whatever decision I need to make, I call it and it’s on me. Monthly reports to him and that was it. He understood that what happens out here is different to what can be told and sometimes you can’t plan for certain shit. He focused on the business, I focus on the ranch.”

By wanting what?

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a long sip, humming. It’s all a taunt. Joel realizes, suddenly, and with painful clarity, that this has all been a grave miscalculation on his part.

As uncomfortable as it is for even him to admit, you are, and undeservedly, a person used to not being wanted, used to rejection. Joel understands this with the quick fire blink of an eye. And he has, in his shock, or— or… he doesn't know—instantaneous awakening—unintentionally alienated you, made an enemy. 

I see, you murmur quietly coupled with a bitter cough of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like the sweet sound he’s used to hearing from you. Yes, a very bad mistake has been made indeed. “Well, you’re practically king here, aren’t you then? Quite the partnership the two of you had.” You smile wide, all bright teeth. 

The coffee sloshes in the mug held in your unsteady hand, and he worries there’s something stronger in there too. 

“Not at all. I’m just good at what I do.” He shoves fisted hands into his pockets, trying to keep patient. Trying not to throttle you, check your drink for himself. 

“And is this how you’d like to continue going forward? I mind my own business, and you do as you please?”

He shakes his head slow, grinds the pulverized mint between his molars, “I want whatever you think’s best. You’re the Kelly now, after all.” You get a look on your face like you don’t like the sound of that at all, and he turns to spit the greens between his teeth, coughing roughly. 

“Yeah, I’m sure of that,” you say with teeth bared, and then whipping your head away from him as if you can’t bear the sight of him a second longer. The coffee sloshes the other way, splashing against your wrist. He hopes it’s not burning you. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Joel. You—” 

The robe—all of a sudden, saturated by the dark liquid, it grabs his attention. It’s in a plaid print, expensive looking, like something you’d see an older man wearing. A man’s robe? He cocks his head, “Whose robe is that?” Cutting your tirade short. 

What? You spit, all sass, his stomach burns, turning to look back at him as if he’s gone idiotic, grown a second head.  He feels a little bit like he’s in the process of doing so—wracked with growing pains. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Can you focus, please? I’m trying to have a fight with you right now.” And you scrunch your nose too adorably for him to find anything besides endearing. Certainly not intimidating. 

He grunts, displeased. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it—”

“Then keep it to yourself.” You turn, continuing on your way up to the house, coffee flies with your spin, boyfriend’s robe whipping out in your wake as he follows like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. 

A little desperately, like a dog, too. A begging for scraps imitation game he hadn’t intended to play but feels obligated to now, and by his own doing. 

“But I want to say—about last night…”

You turn on your heel out of nowhere again, and he stumbles to not rush head first into you, to not touch you. 

The look on your face is all heartbreak. “Do you remember—when I was away at school—and I fell off the horse? When I came home with that broken arm and couldn’t get back on and you helped me? Do you remember that, Joel? How you reminded me how I was supposed to do it—”

He coughs, uncomfortable, shifting like that same scared dog. “You remember these things different than I do.” The words feel cowardly spilling from his tongue, but he should be honest. Shouldn’t he?

This is what he should be doing, isn’t it?

“I remember that you were kind. That you cared. That’s what I remember.” Your eyes are glossed again, and now it’s Joel that has to look away. 

-

“I didn’t care. It was my job to serve your father. To do as he’d want me to. It was a responsibility.”

It’s happening again. A tale like any other you’ve too often heard. You know he’s not lying, and yet everything he says feels precariously close to it. 

“Why are you being like this?” And you ask it very practically, like you really want to know, like you’ve asked the same sort of question to the same sort of figure before, and so now you’re extremely well practiced, an expert even. 

“You remember these things differently. Wrong—That’s not how I meant any of it—whatever you’re thinkin’. It was just a kindness.”

“No, but I— but you…” That’s the point, you want to say, a kindness, but the words stick. You look away again, colored in shame, can’t bear the sight of him. “Maybe you’re right,” you whisper with that very remembered kindness of your lonely childhood thrown back in your face now. “Maybe I do.”

“Listen to me—I’d like for things between us to be— I’m not… I don’t now what to fuckin’ say to you.”

“Honey—” Dina calls from the porch, your father’s assistant, now yours by inheritance, you suppose. “We gotta go soon—gotta get you ready.”

“I have things to do with Dina. I don’t have time for you—for this. Do what you want, run it how you like,” the ranch, “But the kid stays. That’s final.”

You won’t look at him again, you decide. You’ll learn to want a new thing. You’ll learn to love a new thing. 

If you had it in you, you’d laugh in his face. 

Have you been in love with him? Probably not in any way that could’ve been called mature, it was the girl-fantasy of a neglected child latching on to a man who’d always seemed nothing but steady and kind.

So you’ll learn to grow up now, no choice left in the matter, let the fantasy go.  

-

Despite your desire for debauchery and the three days of bad behavior you’d promised yourself, you’ve got shit to do. 

An hour after your ridiculous non-conversation with the ridiculous man, you and Dina are stepping back  out into the summer sunshine when your phone rings with a call from another ridiculous man for what promises to surely be another even more ridiculous conversation. 

Jacopo.

You’d met through the friend of a friend at the party of someone or another in Monaco. Come from an Italian mother and a French father, you should’ve known he was going to be an arrogant asshole from the get go, but he’d been beautiful and momentarily distracting—things you knew you didn’t really want but told yourself would suffice. Really, all he was, was boring, the same as everyone else, wanting something from you without having to truly return anything in full. 

Jacopo the jockey—sounds like a goddamn cartoon. 

You liked to call him Jack, like he were the same sort of plebeian he saw all Americans as, and which he absolutely loathed with the sort of passion only an uppity French man could possess. 

In the distance, you can see Joel, Frank and Bill propped up against the corral watching as Jesse runs Ellie atop a gorgeous chestnut Quarter. Sometimes she likes to compete, when she can get Joel to stop complaining about it for a second. 

Dina makes her way towards them, “Tell them we’ll take the Ghibli,” you call after her to which she throws a thumbs up. At the sound of your voice he peers over his shoulder, finding your eyes immediately, catching there—fish on a burning hook. And then turns full around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the iron grate as you take French boys call, settling in to watch you. 

“Hi, Jack, sweetie. How’s it hangin’?”

“I do not know what this means.”

Bore. “What do you want, Jacopo? I’m busy.”

“My love, we must speak. I have heard of your father. You should have call me, I will come to be with you now. Tell me where you are.”

“Why the hell would I want you to come be with me? We broke up. Remember?”

Joel watches you as the French idiot prattles on about how he loves you and how you need him and how the two of you belong together, blah blah. Odious man, you don’t know how you ever let him inside of you. 

Across the lawn, he isn’t looking away, and his gaze burns where it touches. You feel—humiliated, hurt, rejected, so angry it’s a physical ache. 

Not surprised. 

Perhaps in some way, his rejection was what you’d wanted, had been looking for. Perhaps, it was your subconscious search for the easy way out. Because, and really, what else had you thought would happen when you’d thrown yourself at him half drunk? That he’d suddenly stop seeing you as the child he’d known you for always, take you as a woman, want you, fuck you right there on your newly dead father’s front deck?

Ridiculous.

You can’t even think about the birthday—about her. It’s a snipped lifeline, a crushed tether. 

“Cherie, I must tell you I am feeling very neglected now by you. You don’t call. You do not love me no longer, or what is the problem?” More nonsense and really, this fuckin’ guy needs a boot in his ass pronto. 

And the one still watching you—something even worse. He’s got his mangy brown cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, the one for the ranch, not the lovely dark one for escorting orphans to the funerals of dead fathers, and his jaw works the mint leaves you know he’s got between his teeth, slow and steady. You should hiss at him. Instead, your tummy smolders with heat and butterflies.

 Stop looking at me, you horrible man, you want to shout. 

Humming and hawing at the annoying voice coming through the phone, you smooth your palm over the silk of your dress. You’d wanted to look nice today, your first Kelly meeting. You wanted to look better than you feel, which is like shit, quite frankly. 

There are tiny green paisleys patterned over the deep blue of the dress, a shock of dark red maroon for the cashmere knit of the cardigan tied over your shoulders, and a little silken kerchief wrapped around your throat, something from your mother’s things you’d gone through last night after Joel had ordered you to bed with your tail tucked between your legs and tears in your throat. 

Twenty four years later, and your father still had all her things preserved in their bedroom as if she’d only stepped out for the afternoon. A veritable mausoleum right there in your house-not-home. 

You’d never even stood a chance. 

-

He watches you begin to pace across the deck, but the look on your face tells him you aren’t quite listening to whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying to you. 

The gold and silver bangles that slide around your fine boned wrists jingle a song of temptation. Siren song, bird song, death march, something he’d follow with blind eyes, recognize deaf. And heavy gold and jeweled rings along your fingers that shine almost as bright as the spilled silk of your hair. Swathed in shades of jewel, you’re all woman, done up and ready to go out and devastate. 

He doesn’t know how any man could ever look at you and not want you. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be the same from here on out. 

“Who’s she talkin’ to?” He asks Dina, tipping his chin over at you. He can hear you raising your voice, something about you fucking French moron, and he doesn’t like the hunch he’s got about who it is.

“Boyfriend,” Dina says while she watches Ellie work the horse with hearts in her eyes. 

“Thought he was an ex.”

She peers up at him suspiciously at that, a queer little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards. “Well maybe now that he knows how much she’s worth he’ll be coming back, huh?”

Joel swears all these fuckin’ women are conspiring against him, trying to send him to an early grave. “He steps foot on this ranch, and I’ll shoot him in the goddamn ass.”

She laughs, throwing her head back which inevitably draws Ellie’s attention. “You are literally so dramatic.”

“What’s he bein’ dramatic about now?” Ellie calls from behind, trotting up to the corral edge. 

“Ohhh, nothin’. Just Joel being Joel. Right, old man?” Dina bumps her hip against his and he grunts, refusing to be goaded. He’s not being dramatic, it’s his responsibility to take care of you now, to watch over you. 

That’s all.

“I’m never dramatic,” he tells them very seriously. 

On the porch, the spat reaches a crescendo and they all turn to watch the show. 

Why don’t you shove the whole Eiffel Tower up your ass, you fucking dipshit. And don’t you ever call me again!

“Little girl’s got a mouth on her,” Bill murmurs. 

Ellie lets out a long whistle. Deserved, Dina adds. On the porch, you let out a strangled little screech, stomping the high heel of your boot as if you’ve got half a mind to throw a fit. 

Joel feels hypnotized, speared through the gut.

He wants to know what the ex-boyfriend said. What his name is. Where he’s from and who he is and what he does and how he is and every single thing about him and how it was between the two of you. 

He is suddenly desperate to know everything there is to know about you in a way that makes his throat feel swollen with guilt. In a way he didn’t ever think he’d want from you. 

All the things you keep close, all the small intimacies that make you this person you are now, that’s what he wants. 

You stomp down the steps, making your way towards them, eyes directly on his, and you’re too fucking beautiful for his own good, watching you feels like a sin. 

Makes him feel in danger, like prey. 

“All men should die,” you yell over. 

See. 

“I agree,” Dina says cheerfully.

“You know you can have a baby with the junk in your bones from another woman now,” Ellie adds helpfully.

“The junk in your bones?” Joel says. 

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Yeah, like really we don’t even need you for shit anymore.”

“They should all be put in a hole in the ground in the middle of Nebraska and only be let out when a girl wants to bone.”

“To bone—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ellie.”

“I love that idea,” you say, finally coming to stand right before Joel. He swallows hard, stays silent—feels like the cat’s finally caught his tongue. 

“Why Nebraska?” Franks asks, puzzled.

He’s got to stop looking at you, he’s got to get away from the sight of your eyes, feels like the colors of you seem to pulse brighter, and he feels it all like a touch against his skin. He turns to look at Ellie over his shoulder and with a huge, shit-eating grin she says, “Cause who the fuck knows where fuckin’ Nebraska is, huh?” Her eyes flash to you and then quickly back to Joel, winking, cheeky, knowing. He feels the noose tighten.

They’re definitely conspiring against him. 

The three of you cackle—at his expense. 

“Where’re you two headed?” Bill asks with a frown when the three little hyenas settle. 

“She’s got a meeting in Jackson,” Dina tells him. “First part’ll be quick—she’s just gotta kick some pushy jackass to the curb and tell him we’re not leasing mineral rights to him no matter how hard he begs or how much money he throws at us. Then…” she trails off, throwing you a worried glance, but your eyes are on the far off mountains now, and Joel watches a shaky swallow pass through your throat.

“Then we’ve got the will reading,” you say. 

A sharp ache starts up behind Joel’s left eye, all the easygoing laughter of a few moments ago sucked away with a few words and a single reminder. That you’re not the girl you used to be, laughing and playing with Ellie, that your father is dead, that you have a world of responsibility to face now. 

“You shouldn’t have to go all the way into town. They should be comin’ to you here.”

“I want to get out—see his office.”

“S’only been a few days, honey,” Frank says gently. “You should take it easy.”

“Thanks, Frank,” you reach out to squeeze his arm, flush of emotion across the bridge of your nose. “I’m okay, promise.”

Joel takes you in, in full. You’ve got something shimmery swept across the highs of your cheekbones and glossy lips, the fine grain of your skin—pristine like you're made of sugar and everything good in the world. The silky wisps of baby hair at your temples that look softer than anything he’s probably ever touched in his whole life. And you’re so beautiful it almost hurts the eye to look at you, beautiful in a way that makes men cower at the sight, like you’d be the strongest thing in the whole world. But he sees all the rest too. The delicate curves of your shoulders, the fine swoop of your collarbone and the quick-fire beat of your pulse beneath the fragile skin of your throat. There’s fear all around you in a way, a desperate sort of sadness. 

He wishes there was more he could do for you, that he could bear the burden of all this entirely in your stead, that he could be all you need and want him to be without having to sacrifice his soul to give it to you. 

Your eyes flash back to his, and he worries for a second that you can read his mind. 

Behind you, Jesse pulls up with the sleek black of your father’s favorite car. Of course you’d choose this for today, bets you’ll find a way to turn it into a pretzel before the days end. 

“Take Jesse with you,” he says low at your back as you turn for the car. 

You look over your shoulder at him and his spine throbs. “No.”

Following you around the front of the car, he pulls the door open for you. “You’re not moving around alone anymore. He’s going. Jesse—” he whistles, “You’re going into town with Miss Kelly.”

“Yezzir,” he smiles with the sunny easiness only he possesses.  

“Excuse me,” you turn to frown up at him, stomping your foot again, and you’re a little bit of a brat, he’s realizing. “There’s no room in the car for him. He can’t come.”

“He’ll take a truck,” he says, leaving no room for discussion, but then gentles his voice again, “Things are gonna be different now. You’re the Kelly, you can’t go on all gung ho about your new reality. You need taking care of. Can you not fight me on this, please?”

“What I need—”

“Is to be protected.”

You give a delicate little huff through your nose that he finds to be just about the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. “Then it’ll be my choice how and who.”

“It’s easier if you just do as I say.” Grasping, grasping, praying for patience. 

“You overbearing d—”

“You’ll be okay meeting this jackoff? Don’t need me to come with you?”

You glower at him.

“I’m bein’ serious with you. I know you’re capable,” he puts his hands out, palms up in a conceding gesture, “But this is new, and there’s no shame in asking for support.”

At that, you get a confused little pinch between your brows, softest rose shaped mouth he’s ever seen—felt—all pursed up, and he thinks it’s wrong now, trying to be sweet to you after last night, looking at you this way and seeing the things he’s seeing. He should stay away, go away forever, find a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to bury himself in like you’d said, but he worries now, and quite desperately really, that he won’t ever be able to leave your side again after all this. 

“I have Dina.”

“I know, but—”

“Can you please just… not. I think— I think it’s better if we just steer clear of each other. If I need something,” you look away now, hazy look from last night back in your gaze again, like you’re remembering, like you’re wanting something else he’s not willing, not capable of giving, “I’ll ask for it. Otherwise you can focus on what’s important to you.” 

Gut punch. 

He soldiers on, can’t help it.

“You feelin’ alright?” 

Your eyes flit back to him for a fleeting second and there’s honesty in your gaze now, maybe something extremely vulnerable too, and then shuttering again, looking away again. He’d demand your gaze if he had the right, insist you tell him everything there is to know with just your eyes if you were his. 

But really, he’s got no right to ask anything. 

So instead, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, praying you don’t say him. 

What’s wrong? A laugh and—nothing. Like your father isn’t dead, like he hadn’t hurt you as he had last night, like you’re looking for answers etched into the mountains or the sky. You bring your thumb to your right temple and his own aches in response, digging there for some unseen pain to be gouged out. “Tired—was having bad dreams.” Your voice sounds full of air, and you’ve got a huge emerald on your ring finger, an even larger turquoise stone beside it, other hand is covered in a row of opals—you’re a treasure of a girl, all the way inside and out, and it’s like he’s staring at a work of art, knowing that if he were to touch, it’d all be ruined. Your voice full of air floats in his bad ear and booms out the good one full of forlorn want. 

It feels like you’re the only two people left in the whole of Wyoming, standing here together under the sweet sun, maybe the whole world, and he’s ridden in guilt, wants to tell you he’s sorry again, beg or something, and thinks that God should give you the chance to rewind time when you’ve made someone feel this bad without meaning to. 

You whisper at the Tetons, and he’s all but forgotten, “I feel a little bit like I’m the real nightmare.”

“You couldn’t ever be, sweetheart,” he tells you and means it with his whole heart. 

It’s all agony swimming in your eyes, and if you don’t stop him, he’s going to take you into his arms right here in front of everyone. You need more than protecting, it’s clear, you need caring for, you need loving—the sort of something he can tell you’ve never had in your whole life. 

“Ready to go, honey?” Dina calls from the other side of the car, her canoodling with Ellie finally come to a pause. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie, looking down at your feet, impractical boots again, these ones sexy and tall and not for his admiring, blinking away the wash of heat that’s bloomed across the bridge of your freckled little nose. 

“Did she eat?” He asks Dina over your head.

“Ehhhhh, but I brought a smoothie,” she pulls out a thermos from her large bag and smiles all beaming and large. 

“A smoothie ain’t food. Get something else in town.”

“You're so prepared,” Ellie sighs dreamily beside her. 

“You’re annoying me,” you grouch at him, tossing your bag into the backseat, sliding into the luxuriously leathered interior as he shuts the door gently behind you, bending down to brace his palms against the open window. 

“Drive careful. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re kinda a helicopter mom. You know that, Joel?” Dina tells him with that sweet smile of hers. 

“Do not entertain his nonsense,” you snap. 

“She’s just grumpy because Vogue France posted a piece on her and the funeral—the heiress to watch, they’ve called her.”

“I don’t know who they think I am—Kendall fucking Roy? This isn’t HBO, it’s my goddamn life.”

“It’s fine, drink your smoothie, here,” Dina soothes. 

“I don’t got a clue what any of that means,” Joel says. “And do up your belt,” frowning at you and pulling away just in time when you speed off with half the admonishment still on his tongue 

-

The bar is loud and sweaty and crowded enough there’s room for your spite, which he knows, is all this night out is. 

The day had gone from terrible to horrible to heinous, and he’s officially reached his limit now. You’d returned from your late morning in Jackson toting a gray cloud that’d settled over the entire ranch and everyone in it. All work had come to a slow and grinding halt, the mood morose, knowing that the lady of the manor was grieving and angry. 

And then a few hours into the evening, you, Ellie, and Dina had spun into the bunk, already giggling on drinks he was certain were too sugary and way too strong to end in anything good. Looking to rile up the boys into heading back to Jackson and finding a bar to terrorize. 

And so here he now finds himself, stepping through the door of The Mushroom, ridiculous name for a bar if anyone asked him, eyes searching for the gleam of your hair, that tiny fucking outfit you’d draped yourself in. You were hunting for trouble, to aggravate him, trying to hurt him with your, you’re not invited, Joel—no one wants you to come.

Angry, angry as a spitting fire. 

He’d felt like shit about himself and your upset for a second, and then had thought: Well, are you going to cowboy up, Joel? Or just lay here and bleed?

Now, there’s something sick in him that wants more of it, to take everything you’ve got to give, to see how far you can go, to push you just a little bit further too.

A masochist, is what he reckons he might actually be.

He finds Ellie’s bent head whispering into Dina’s ear, giggling and dragging her fingertips up the other girls bare arm, and he feels a thump of fondness for the two—happier than he can say that they’ve finally worked it all out after months of their will-they-won’t-they struggle.

Making his way over to them, he catches Frank in the distance, dancing to the countryfied Abba cover of Chiquitita the local band’s currently playing while Bill stands nearby, serious and menacing, keeping anyone from getting too close to his partner. 

No sign of you, and the backs of his knees itch and burn. 

“Where is she?” He demands when he reaches Ellie at their place against the bar. 

“Oh, dude. She’s gonna be soooo pissed.”

“Where, Ellie?”

Get you anything to drink, sugar? The bartender calls and Joel shakes her away, panic thumping in his gut the longer he doesn’t have eyes on you.

Dina knocks her head towards the end of the L-shaped bar, closest to the throng of dancing patrons, and there in the last seat and partially obscured by someone’s shoulder and ridiculously feathered hat, you sit. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

“Can you please just leave her alone. She needs to blow some steam off.”

“Yeah, Joel, we’re watching her,” Dina adds, always the peacekeeper.

Or blow someone, Ellie adds in a snicker, and he gives her a death glare. “You need to quit the asshole act,” she tells him, purposefully thunking her beer hard enough on the bartop that some of it sloshes over the lip of the bottle onto his hand braced against the edge. 

Real mature. 

“Changed my mind,” he tells the bartender when she heads back their way, “Shot of Jameson.” 

Beside him, Jesse appears, beer in hand as he leans against the bar to watch you also. “That might just be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my whole life, honest to God,” he sighs wistfully. 

Joel sees red—this is just too much. “Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at her,” he snaps. 

Ellie snickers knowingly, and Frank and Bill join the group, picking up on the topic of conversation. 

“That little girl can drink a grown man under the goddamn table,” Bill says. 

“And looks good as hell doing it too—”

“Eyes off, you little shit,” Joel sends a threatening glance at Jesse again. 

Ellie ignores them both. “He’s a finance bro or some shit—from New York—here to play cowboy dress up with the group he’s with. Nothing I can’t handle, and you need to cool it and leave or have a drink and let her have fun.”

“She’s vulnerable right now, Ellie—”

“Yeah, you would know.”

Joel’s turn to do the ignoring, “And she needs someone to watch her back.”

“I’m fuckin’ watching it, man. You’re so annoying, and I’ll have you know that—” The fucker’s got a thick lock of your long hair trapped between his probably manicured fucking fingers, smoothing it between his thumb and index and then looping it around and around, drawing you in closer.

Joel’s about to start howling.

You’ve done something to him, knocked something askew inside him, and he needs you to set it back to rights. Let him out of this saw trap he’s been caught in. 

The man says something that has you throwing your head back in an overly eager laugh, loud and melodic in the most hypnotizing sort of way, meant to draw the eye or seduce or send his gut to twisting and aching. 

Ellie’s saying something about how you need to have fun, how you need to find yourself, and all Joel can think is that he can be the one to give you that, to help you do all that while still making sure you’re alright, taken care of. 

Over the wannabe cowboy’s shoulder, he sees your eyes land on him, and you give him one of those serenely beautiful smiles he knows means he’s about to lose his fucking mind and cause a scene. 

A provocation of a smile is what it is. 

You cross one long leg over the other, a flash of hot pink his eyes can’t help but flash to beneath the obscene hem of your skirt and lean in to whisper something, glossy lips right at his ear, and a tick starts up below Joel’s left eye. The fuckwit pulls you in closer, and you tip into him, hand on his shoulder—your eyes never leave Joel’s, and then you’re pulling him off the barstool and leading him into the throng of dancing people. He’s desperate to know what the back of your hot pink underwear looks like—string of lace wedged between the cleft of your ass, or silk wrapping around the full cheek like a perfect present? The man pulls you into himself, spinning you around, and you’re made up of blues and purples and pinks, shimmering like something that shouldn’t exist here amongst all the rest of them. Slinky little top made of silk like water and sparkles, your cheeks, flushed with drink or heat, but he’ll tell himself it’s because of him, because you’re still angry at him, thinking of him, and it soothes the tempest that’s brewing in his gut. 

He spins you towards himself, the man Joel’s about to beat senseless, shooting the Jameson without really tasting anything but the insane jealousy souring to irrational fury on his tongue, it pulses in his throat once, twice, and the fucker tugs you into himself again by a handful of your ass in that too short skirt and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel slams the glass on the bartop, not seeing red anymore, something like dark spots now, he’s so fucking pissed off. 

Ellie yelps his name, her and Jesse scrambling after him, but they’re too late and he’s there already, pulling you away, and gently because he might be feeling a little bit like a demon right now, but he knows what you are and how to handle you no matter what—and slams his fist into the fuckers nose, the satisfying crunch of broken bone and a pathetic cry sounds as he hits the sticky bar floor. The people around peer over in nothing more than mild curiosity, this is a cowboy bar after all. 

He watches the man for a second, making sure he stays down, and then turns to look at you and isn’t at all surprised when he finds that look of victory on your face. 

“Ready to go?” Voice all sweet innocence. 

You’re going to kill him. 

Spinning around on the toe of your boot, the hem of your little skirt flutters with your movements and he catches a flash of cheek, mystery of your panties still unsolved. 

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” Ellie snarks as they pass the group of them. 

He chooses to ignore that observation. “Don’t stay out too late. And let Bill drive back.”

Following you out into the night, he tries to take control of himself, to lie away the heat he feels sitting heavy in his stomach. 

He wishes he had a mint leaf to pulverize between his molars, he wishes he could pull you over his knee and spank your ass for being such a bad girl. And looming behind you, he knows you’re not even a little bit intimidated by his size as you dance and prance across the parking lot towards his truck.

“I know you’re ticked off because of last night and today, but you can’t lash out just because you’re angry with me.” 

All he gets in response is that head-thrown-back wind chime laughter—the real one, which is something. 

“You need to stop misbehaving,” he breathes down your neck.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” you singsong. 

“Are you drunk?” Refusing to be distracted, he’s going to stand strictly on business, he promises himself. 

You spin around again—always catching him off guard and pissing him off—hooking yourself on his shirtfront, pulling yourself into him like you’re trying to dance some fucked up dance he doesn’t know the steps to. 

“Not at all.”

“You need to not be touching me right now,” he warns, the threads of his control dangerously close to snapping, walking you backwards without putting his hands on you. Chest to chest, he feels like he could breathe fire if he really set his mind to it. 

“Yes, sir,” you say sweetly, dragging your palms down his chest and belly before letting him go, skipping ahead of him, humming an off-key rendition of whatever kitschy, poor excuse for a country song they’d been playing at the end in there. 

The even poorer excuse for a skirt bounces along the curve of your ass, driving him fucking mad—he’s goig to have a heart attack, he’s middle aged, he can’t handle this shit anymore—you. 

Stop that, he growls.

“God, you don’t like anything—you’re no fun,” you pout. 

Coming to the truck, he yanks the door open for you. “Get in the damn truck.” And he makes sure to turn away and not ogle your ass as you hop in, his palm hovering in the vicinity of your elbow if you need him. 

The prospect of an hour and a half of the dark drive and the scent of your musky sweet perfume and sweat soaked skin has his heart pounding. When he pulls his door open, you’re turned in your seat expectantly waiting for him, folded knees up on the seat and pink triangle right there to taunt him. 

“Sit right—put on your seatbelt.”

“You’re so bossy.” An exaggerated sigh and your voice is so fucking sassy, a tiny bit of a needy whine threaded through it, he feels his patience snap. 

Grabbing hold of your damp cheeks he squeezes hard enough to force your full mouth into a pout and giving your head a little shake he says, “And you need managing, little girl. Put your fucking belt on, or I’ll put it on for you.”

Eyes all pupil and gone blurry, you lick your lips and he can smell the sweet fruit scent of your breath. He groans, pushing you back—mistake, mistake, putting his hands on you at all—and peels out of the parking lot, and he is not hard in his jeans for you. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask after several moments of forced silence. 

“No.”

“Not even for last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it either.”

“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”

Jesus, he mutters. “There’s nothing to discuss—already told you what I think and how it’s going to be and that’s final. You need to let it go, you hear me?”

You give a little groaning screech through your clenched teeth, turning away from him, still not wearing your goddamn seatbelt, never doing as he says. 

Toeing your boots off roughly, the little skirt hitches high enough on your thighs he catches a glimpse of the smooth glowing skin of your hip, eyes trying to watch the road and your thighs at the same time. 

“You’re horrible,” you say through a grimace, but your voice cracks a little bit at the end, and you’ve still got your face turned away so that he can’t tell if he’s made you cry or not now. 

“Are you cryin’?” He demands.

“No,” you sniffle, wiping your cheek on a lifted shoulder 

“Yes you are, liar.” Fuck—fuck, fuck.

“Well you’re bein’ mean,” you whine, finally turning to look at him again, and you’re all rose glow, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips red as a cherry. 

No man should be tested like this. It’s wrong—unnatural.

He tries to gentle his voice and steady the pounding of his heart, pressing down on the gas, wishing the road would disappear from beneath the tires of the truck and that he could have you home and away from him already. “Not bein’ mean, sweetheart. Just—just…” He sighs, “Goddamnit, just don’t how how to handle you,” he curses, losing the grasp on his gentleness. 

“See—you are angry with me!” A tear slips down your cheek, and Joel’s mouth waters. 

His heart kicks up another notch, hypnotized, “You make me fuckin’ crazy—is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes.” You turn full in the seat to face him, bent knees against the center console block his view of the apex of your thighs. Fucking Christ. 

“Sit right. You’re flashing your bits,” he tries and fails to focus on the road. 

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I want you to see them, stupid.”

Jesus. “How much did you have to drink?” 

“Only one High Noon.”

“The hell is that? And quit lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” Your knees shift against each other, and he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight he feels like he could rip it out of the dash. 

“You fuckin’ know like what.”

“Well if you hadn’t been such a cock block earlier, I’d be looking at someone else like this right now.”

And the teasing is too much. The bare legs and the tiny skirt and the hair and the lips and the sound of your voice, the kiss last night replaying in his mind over and over and over again like some lovesick taunt, the look of hurt he’d put on your face and the idea of you bare and slick, taking some other man that isn’t him. It’s too much. 

He jerks the truck roughly onto the road shoulder and into the grass, wheels spinning and gravel flying. Joel—you squeal, being jostled in your seat so that all he can see are soft thighs and pretty tits bouncing in his peripheral. He puts the truck in park, ripping his seat belt off, reaching over to tug you roughly forward by the nape, his fingers twisting in your hair in a hold he knows is too hard for something so delicate, his other hand grips below the bend of one knee squeezing hard. 

“If you think I’m gonna let you spread your legs for anyone fucking else—” he growls.

“Anyone else?” You laugh in his face, eyes spinning with something a little maniacal.

He thought he’d been worried for his soul, that taking you would be the undoing of everything he’d tried so hard to mend back together after Sarah. And really, he had tried so hard—to be good, to be better, to atone for all he’d not done before her, all he’d done after her. He’d tried to make himself into something that was respectful of her memory and the second chance Kelly had given him. 

But right here, and again because anytime he looks at you, is within a mile of your vicinity, it feels like you’re the only two people on the whole goddamn planet, he doesn’t think he really gives a fuck for being good or atoning or souls at all. Not even a little bit. 

He follows your lead from last night and kisses you, is sure to take your tongue this time. Forcing his thumb and forefinger between the line of your molars, he presses down hard enough to hurt the baby soft skin, spreading your jaw open wide so that he can lick into your mouth deep and wet. He wants to scare you, cow you, intimidate you into behaving with this hunger that seems to swallow him whole—remind you that he’s let you have your fun thus far, but the both of you know who’s playing games and who’s not. 

You let out a shocked little gasp onto his tongue, fingers twisting in the fabric over his shoulder, and he tightens his grip under your knee, tugging you just that little bit further forward, and when he pulls back to look at you, spit slick, swollen mouth and wide eyes, tits about to spill out of your top, you push his face away roughly, dragging your nails down the skin of his cheek with a tiny snarling growl. 

Spoiled little brat.

“Don’t be fuckin’ childish,” he snarls back, and pulls you roughly over the console and into his lap. 

“I can’t stand you,” you pant, settling above him, coming in to kiss him again, and he can’t deny it anymore. He’s hard as fuck for you. 

You moan into his mouth, high and throaty at the same time, girlish little sigh at the end that has him gripping your hip tightly, trying to stop himself from thrusting up against you.

“Can you taste him?” You lick his tongue. “He kinda looked like you, didn’t he? That’s why I chose him.��

“Shut the fuck up.”

He’s going to stop this now, at any moment. He’s going to push you away and tell you this is wrong and that the two of you can’t do this. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your tits high against his chest and grinding your lace covered little cunt against his cock. 

He groans into your mouth, pushed straight over the edge and free falling, cupping your ass to lift you off of himself a little bit, he just needs a second, before he takes a breath and presses you back down harder, rolling your hips against his lap. Little animal sounds, an ah, ah, ah and an oh, coupled with his mewled name. Cupping the soft of your ass in the palms of his hands, his calluses scrape against silken skin, and you fit him as if he’d dreamt you up just for himself; perfectly lush curves he can squeeze as hard as he wants because you’re not getting away from him now that he’s caught you in his snare. He drags his fingertips up the roundness of your asscheeks, and the mystery’s solved, it’s a thong. Catching the lace between his fingers he pulls the flimsy string upwards and tight against your pussy, a pained moan when he pulls even harder, making sure the fabric digs against your skin.

He knows if he cups you there you’ll be wet for him, for him, no one else but him. Knows he could bend you face first over the console, pull the soaked lace aside and suck on your wet little clit, make you come in his mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. 

Joel, Joel, Joel, you hum in a dream voice. 

He can feel two little dimples at the low of your back, imagines what they’d look like with his thumbs gripped there as your ass takes his cock. 

He can’t say it enough—he feels fucking insane. 

“Touch me,” you beg, sliding and pressing against him, long hair like water slipping all over and against him too. 

Oh my God, he whisper moans when you spread your knees as wide as the seat allows, rocking your hips in short little hitches against the ridge of his cockhead. He knows your little clit is right there, cunt a knot of indescribable heat against him, and you pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back, hair a tangled curtain. He drags his nails back down your ass hard enough he hopes he’s leaving marks, leaning forward to lick along the salt tracks of your tears, watching you use him. 

“Do not fucking come,” he orders. He can’t—he can’t watch you do it and not be inside you when it happens, and the two of you absolutely cannot take this that far. 

He pulls your hips up again, forcing your movements still and you huff at him, whining. 

“We gotta stop.”

Noooo. “No, Joel. Please,” you cry, trying to pull yourself towards him—your mouth is so swollen—trying to escape his hold and get what you want for yourself. 

Grasping at the last vestiges of his sanity, “Fuck— No. No more.” He lifts you off his lap and back into your seat, sitting back to press himself against the door and adjusting the throbbing erection in his jeans, so hard it’s making him a little nauseous. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to stuff his cock inside of you right here and now. He tucks the thick head up under his waistband, trying to find any sort of momentary relief. 

There isn’t enough oxygen in this truck. He needs air, space, to taste you. 

“Fine,” prim little nose in the air. You stretch one leg out across the console to dangle over his groin and let the other drop to the cab floor. “That’s fine—I’ll just take care of it myself then,” you tease provocatively, fingertips dragging up the inside of your thigh.

He shoots forward to stop your movement, gripping your wrist in a vice—baby bird bones beneath his fist, and you moan at his touch like the little wanton he’s coming to realize you are, writhing in your seat. “Don’t you fucking dare. I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Jokes on you, I’d like that shit,” you sass back, ripping your wrist out of his hold, little socked foot kicking towards his face. He catches it, holding it in his grip and squeezing. “And I don’t really care if you’re not mad at me because I’m mad at you.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” and the mood changes, smolders into something more serious, more honest.

-

“Why didn’t you go today? The lawyer asked you to—” You’d wanted to find him as soon as you’d gotten home earlier, demand he give you an explanation. Cowardice had won over that desire, and going out to find a drink and a replacement man had seemed the easier alternative. 

“Wasn’t my place.” Spreading his thighs wider in his seat to accommodate himself, he presses his hips forward, and you can make out the heft of his cock beneath his jeans—your belly twists all full of heat and bubbles. 

“Did you know he was leaving you something?”

He laughs a bitter bark of a laugh. “No—never thought—” the words die in his throat and he stares out the window, lost to the memory of your father. “No, I didn’t think he was leaving me anything before I got the call.”

“It’ll make a good nest egg.” 

“Don’t want it.”

He won’t turn to look at you now, and you know that this conversation in the aftermath of touching you shames him. 

“You’re taking it. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash fire at you and then flit away. “He had all your banking information, it’s probably already there.”

Fucking Christ, he spits the murmured curse, bracing his elbow against the curve of the steering wheel, cupping his palm over his mouth as if to keep his anger and frustration in. The bulge of his bicep beneath his dark hoodie distracts you for a moment. 

You’d spent enough time watching him over the years that you’d learned all the things you knew he tried to hide in plain sight. That gentleness, that patience, that heart—that he is an inconceivably good and honest man. Things that are ultimately impossible to hide. 

Your eyes flash to the temple where a gristle of scar tissues is slashed across his skin. The meaning behind a scar like that, coupled with his bad ear and his green eyed photograph—it’s hard to hide. People can always tell when you’ve tried to kill yourself, you know. 

Which all goes to say—and you’re quite certain of this—that yes, the two of you are strangers, in ways, but in others, or in your own way, you know this man. You understand his nature. You know he wouldn’t have ever wanted it—that he does not want it and never will. He isn’t the sort of man who’d ever look a million dollars in the eye and feel moved by them. 

His humanity means more to him than his life, you’d heard Tommy say about him once to your father when you’d been an eavesdropping little girl. You hadn’t understood at the time, but now you do. 

The dark pullover and jeans, incongruously boyish, the scuffed boots—he’s so himself and so fucking hot and you want him so, so badly, and looking at him sitting here now, gorgeous, hair mused by your fingers, and your slick smeared across his jeans—you look down at your own twisted fingers in your lap, a little ashamed now too—and you can’t fathom why or how he’d ever look at you and feel moved by the likes of you either. 

You’re ashamed that you’re even angry at him for it at all, resentful of this gift your father has given him when really it is not only resentment, maybe not even truly that at all. More so, it’s a complicated mixing pot of feelings that these two men seem to have always been twisted up into knots together inside of you. Resentful, not because you don’t want him to have it. You want him to have everything he deserves or could ever think to want and more, but perhaps, because this was the final nail in the coffin scrap of proof that your father had cared about him in a very real way that you’d never experienced—in a way that was entirely Oswald Kelly’s own choice and not because of dead mothers or obligation or legacy. 

“It’s good he left it for you,” you say gently and mean it. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, looks away, from under the cover of his palm says, “S’not fair to you.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is about you and you deserving this, and I’m glad he gave you your due. He should’ve left more.”

His eyes flutter shut, sighing deeply and shakes his head. “You’ve made me into something I’m not. You need to see that.”

“You’re not some sort of cautionary tale, Joel.”

“You don’t know a thing about it,” voice like he could he angry but is being very careful to remain not. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the reasons why I came here. You should look at me and see nothin’ worthwhile.”

“My father saw something,” you argue. “You let my father see that something. And I do too, no matter what you say, no matter what you do or how hard you push me away; I’m used to it, and you won’t change my mind.”

He gives you a look like you’re hurting him, like your truths hurt him. “We’re goin’ home. This is enough,” he gruffs, pulling the truck into drive again and peeling out of the grassy knoll. 

Fight dying in your throat, you feel suddenly exhausted, shivering coldly, belly an ember of unsated lust, your orgasm is tight and wet between your legs and you don’t want to argue or impose yourself on him anymore. You don’t want to feel like you’re imposing yourself now when he’d never made you feel like that before. 

The night is a pitch dark blur falling away behind your glazed over eyes, and huddling into yourself against the door, you hide your face away in your shoulder, belly swooping with nausea. 

“You drive too fast, I’m dizzy,” you mumble, and he  immediately slows, foot easing off the gas.

“You gonna puke?”

“Yes, all over your face.”

“I’m serious, darlin’. Need me to stop?”

“No. I just want to be home,” said in as small a voice as you can manage, hoping he won’t catch your words, and soon he’s turning off into the long drive to the house. 

When he pulls to a stop, you scramble to grab your boots before he can say anything else, but he’s unnaturally quick for such a large man, out the door and around the nose of the truck, pulling your own door open before you can even get a single boot on. He pulls them from your grasp, and then tugs you bodily out of your seat, slinging you over his shoulder as if you were some sack of nuisance prone potatoes. You screech, flailing, trying to knee him in the gut, but he bands a strong arm across the backs of your thighs, pinning you in obedient place. “Quit.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You howl, hitting him repeatedly on the ass, trying to wriggle and make his life as difficult as you possibly can. 

This man has absolutely no consideration or respect or sense of personal space!

Technically, neither do you—but that’s neither here nor there. 

You scream like a hyena, shrill and long and he pinches your ass hard, right at the inner crease of your thigh and ass cheek, too close to your still wet pussy for comfort. “I said quit.”

“Everything alright out here?” You hear Jesse’s voice call from the direction of the bunk, they must’ve beat you two here while you’d been trying to seduce Joel into making you come. 

The snap of Joel’s fingers and then, “Mind your own fucking business.”

“You are so rude.”

He bumps you on his shoulder, jostling you on the soft of your belly and making your cunt go even tighter. You hate him. “Quiet, you.” 

Letting himself in the dark of your house, he makes his way up the stairs while you hang quietly upside down now, a little astounded, a lot turned on by how strong he is, lugging you all the way upstairs without even a change in his breathing. 

But as soon as he steps foot into your bedroom, now set to rights from yesterday’s disaster, you feel the change come on him. The shift and deepening of his breaths, the expanse of his ribs going wide and winglike as he sucks in a big gulp of air. You press your palm flat to the center of his back, feeling the whistle of his breath go in and out of him until he’s slipping you off his shoulder to bounce gently backwards onto your soft bed. 

He stands above you for a quiet moment, and you take in the broad shape of him backlit by the moonlight of your open drapes. He’s huge and imposing cast in this darkness, something out of a dream.

Literally—out of your own teenage fantasy dreams. 

Has anyone in all the world ever wanted someone as badly as you want him?

You can feel the press of his left knee against the inside of your right one, and you wish he’d put it between your thighs, join you on the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” You reach your fingers out and he tangles his hand with yours and it’s a small victory. 

“Yeah.”

“Would you come to my funeral?”

His fingers jolt— “What?”

“If I died.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Tell me that you would—” You tug him forward and he lets himself come, bending over your prone form, braced on one arm and still holding onto your fingers with the other. “—That I wouldn't be alone even there.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Would you?”

“Makes me angry when you say shit like this—as if you don’t believe I’m going to take care of you.” 

“Please tell me, Joel. Promise me—” and you reach up to gently touch the scar across his temple. 

He goes frozen and understanding. “I’d come,” and you know it costs him something to give in to such an imagining and it makes you all the more grateful for it. 

Fingers sliding back into the curls at his temple, silver speckled, you know, you pull him further towards you until he’s close enough to press a softly hot kiss to his mouth. The two of you hold there for a moment, another, another, you can feel the wash of his heavy breathing through his nose, the flutter of his long lashes tangling with yours—you hope he’s searching for you in the dark—and you lift your knee up onto the bed, bending to open yourself to him. 

He pulls back, hand shooting to your jaw to grip you tightly in place, breath ragged, animal being hunted. 

You smile.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says low.

“Why not?” It’s what you want, you deserve to have what you want. He squeezes your face once, presses another hard, too quick kiss to your mouth and then flips you over onto your belly, turning your skirt up over your ass to expose you. He tugs once on the string of your thong, drawing his finger along the lace wedged between your ass cheeks and then pulls his hand away for a moment before he’s spanking you hard and quick. 

Owwww, you whine, hitching your rump towards him, wanting more despite the sting. He bends his head and bites you even harder at the inner corner of your asscheek, teeth digging hard and long enough to leave a mark. You whine again, high and mewling, trying to escape his meanness and he smacks you again on the other cheek. 

“Go to bed, little girl. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

And he’s leaving you, broad shouldered form slipping out your bedroom door and leaving you aching and angry to scream into your pillow.

You’re pretty sure you hear his deep laugh before the slam of the door sounds below, and you’re slipping your greedy fingers into the ruined wet of your panties, petting away the ache he’s left. 

-

The late May night is cool, despite the daytime heat, and Ellie shivers in her Carhartt, watching as Joel slips out the back kitchen door of the big house. 

“The hell is going on with those two?” Jesse says beside her, pulling long on his beer. The litter of yellow cans around them speaks to his mullish whining that he’d not been able to pull tonight. Sometimes he annoys her, but in that sort of endearing little brother way that makes her want to kick his ass and protect him at the same time. 

“Nothin’, they’re fine—just gotta fuck it out.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Naw—just smarter than you, man.”

“They like each other?”

“God, Jesse, you wouldn’t see an obvious thing if it were a tipsy bison barrelin’ towards you full speed in the middle of the day.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he says a little pathetically. Moping men—Ellie really can’t be assed to deal with them all. 

“It’s fine. You don’t need to understand. I do—I see all, I know all. You mere mortals wouldn’t understand.”

“S’kinda weird, no? Them two—him bein’ so much older, her bein’…well, you know— her.”

“Nope. Makes perfect sense—they need each other, you see.”

He shrugs, I guess—“You’re fuckin’ weird, too. You know that?”

She takes a swig of her beer now also, hoping the two idiots she loves most in the world, after Dina of course, figure each other out before the whole ranch has to suffer for it too. 

“Wrong again, Jesse. Wrong again.”

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#fable of the dog fic #vic fic #joel miller x FMC #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us au #joel miller fanfiction

[romanoffsbish]

My Tummy Hurts

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: Injured R / Hospital

It was an easy mission, so why were you here? | WC: 2,245

"Hey guys," you greeted your lovers with a smile, or so you thought, but all they got was an odd grimace.

"Detka?" You truly smiled then, but no communal joy followed as you slurred and pointed, "that's me."

"What the fuck happened to Y/N?" Natasha turned to accuse the men stood behind you, still on the quinjet.

——

The men immediately flew into a panic, all saying the same thing—you were fine, albeit worded differently. Natasha was seconds away from wringing their necks but her focus shifted back to you, who was now pouting and gripping at your burning stomach. "Wands?"

Wanda smiled at you, "What's the matter honey?"

"My tummy hurts," you uncharacteristically whined, laughter normally would've bellowed from behind you, Tony never one to miss a chance to tease someone, but then you swayed into Natasha's prepared arms and Wanda was quick to levitate you three to the medbay.

—

"Appendicitis?!" You exasperated for the third time, "are you fucking kidding me?!" Wanda shook her head, eyes empathetic as she reached for your hand, in the meanwhile Natasha chuckled over a spoonful of your lime jello—traitor that she apparently was. "Get out."

This caught the Russian's attention, her eyes widened at the malice in your tone and she was scared shitless to have to leave your side. You didn't mean it, as you wanted them close, but she didn't need to know that.

Natasha plopped the half finished jello down and moved her chair even closer, her hand reached for your free one and her heart settled when you let her grab it. "I—," she started but you just shook your head and smiled softly, "just don't laugh at me again, capeesh?"

"Now," you moved right on, the disdain back in your tone, "I just got back from space after karate chopping a pile of goop," you stole your hands back and gave your lovers a show of what took place before. Natasha trying her damndest to keep her laughter in, "Fucking sick as shit but now I'm taken out by a useless organ?"

"Mhm," Wanda hummed in amusement, "Bruce ran some tests and thinks that the creature you 'karate chopped' released a toxin into your body that caused the upset in your stomach and ruined your day home."

"Home," you repeated, voice soft as you reached for both of their hands again, squeezing to really get across to your lovers the sentiment of how great the drugs were. Not that you weren't a softie, because you were indeed the softest of the three, just never this publicly.

Natasha and Wanda shared a bit of eye contact before the witch was gone, you pouted at her absence but it was short lived when the assassin pecked your lips. "She's going to get the doctor malyshka, get the all clear so we can take you upstairs." You grinned.

"Yeah," she chuckled, "we knew you'd love that."

—

When you came to next, not even remembering falling asleep again, you immediately recognized the room. It was just as you left it all those years back, just with a few new boxes of clutter Wanda held onto and stored in here, and you were also lying in a more sterile bed.

Just as you tried to sit up you felt a hand on your chest keeping you down. "Wait, I'll sit you up Agent Y/L/N."

A frown naturally overtook your face at the unfamiliar sight of a blonde woman in a white coat, but before you  could even consider taking her up on an identity the door flew open and your girlfriends ushered her out.

"Wa—," before you could finish speaking a spoonful of bone broth was shoved into your mouth. Judging by the sunsetting in the sky you knew it was already the following day, which was admittedly slightly alarming. Yet your urge to inquire the time flew out the window as the bite of food kicked the hunger in your body up.

After scarfing down the bowl you begged for more, but not of the soup. “Y/N no, I am not feeding you ice—.”

“I am dying,” you dramatized, “I need a pint to live!”

Wanda was about to admonish you for all the begging and humoring of death, but then she caught sight of your pouting lip and wet eyes, so of course she melted. Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics before she knowingly slipped out of the room to collect the first outlandish request of many, she could only assume.

When she returned the atmosphere was calmer, you were telling Wanda, who was sat at your bedside with a full smile, about the moments leading up to the fight.

“Tony, resident idiot that he is, caused the power in the entire city to go out for the sake of his suit mods, which made our attempts until then to stay hidden wasted.”

“Sounds about par for the course,” Nat teased her way into the conversation and you looked to her with a brighter smile at the sight of the ben and jerry pint.

The women took turns replying to you and spooning the ice cream into your mouth. You talked with a full mouth but Wanda let it go each time, a bit too relieved to still have you here for her to deem it worth scolding.

It wasn’t until the witch could see, in your eyes, just how tired you were that she decided to stop letting it all slide. It was sweet the way you tried to stay awake just to talk to them, but once the woman set the empty container down and wiped your lips clean she was inconspicuously putting you to sleep. Her words of reply faded into hums as she mindlessly traced her fingers over the exposed skin of your arms until your words aimed at Natasha faded out and became a snore.

—

The pair had left you sleeping in your hospice bed about an hour ago, it was hard to convince the Dr on duty to let you leave the ward after surgery but Tony's check book came out and now the woman is settled in a room across the hall for the night. Unnervingly.

The woman watched you sleep for about ten minutes after having administered your medicine and feeding you a pint of ice cream, much to your delight, Wanda's dismay and Natasha's envy. They'd made sure Friday locked you in before they headed down to eat dinner.

The natural redhead huffed, again, as she pushed the mushy green beans around her plate, ignoring the red tinted look of agitation Wanda sent her way. "Bros'."

(knock it off / quit)

"Nyet," the redhead grumbled over a bite of potatoes.

"She needs her rest," Wanda decidedly empathized.

"I missed her," the redhead sighed, "we were going to finish the bannister garden and cuddle under stars."

The witch felt a similar ache, that mission you were on took an entire month, you were fine too, but no longer. Wanda moved her chair closer, leaning her head on the redheads shoulder, dainty fingers wrapped around a muscular bicep, both woman shivered. For a moment the silence was peaceful, but then the witch sighed, "She was going to help me plant in said garden."

Natasha took a big bite of her steak and got lost in thought about how you somehow perfectly fit into their dynamic. You build things and spar with her, then go garden while discussing your latest read with Wanda. Like Nat, you can't cook but like Wanda you can bake.

"Our multifaceted, badass girlfriend," Wanda coo'd seconds later and Natasha snorted, "taken out by an appendix." Wanda shoved her shoulder but chuckled alongside her as they both silently regarded you with a different fondness. Natasha loved your goofy side.

The first time she'd met you was the worst day of her free life, Wanda was off on a dangerous mission and communications had been lost in the worst of it. You were her only hope as you worked tirelessly to get her back online. Her hands were shaking against her will, so she had to guide you, shields top agent, instead.

They called you her shadow, it was rumored around the base that you studied her fighting and mirrored her in not only strength but intellect. Unfortunately for you that meant being woken up only hours after returning from your own tumultuous mission. To meet your idol and crush while drooling into your pillow wasn't exactly pleasant, nor ideal when you're doing it to reconnect her with her girlfriend, it hurt.

Yet you persevered on through the awkward moments of silence and smiled when the comms cracked to life.

"Agent Romanoff, the comms are—."

"Natasha?" Wanda coughed and the redhead laughed emotionally, you were alarmed to see the Black Widow cry but it was endearing above all else. "Detka, I am so happy to hear your voice—fuck, I-I love you Wanda Maximoff, moya krasivaya detka."

Judging by the gasp on the other end you realized you were trapped in an intimate moment with them. It was beautiful and unfairly gut wrenching all at once. Soon enough it was Wanda's turn to cry out, "I love you too Natasha Romanoff; more than anything."

It was sweet, intimate, and then you sneezed. Glaring green eyes found yours and you could only shrug. "You kidnapped me from my bed, brought me to a room layered thickly in dust and didn't consider this."

"Natasha, what's going on?" The redhead smirked at you and whispered, "Wanda, meet Y/N, my stalker."

Your eyes widened at the lightweight true call out but kept your cool all the same. "You kidnapped me."

"You're free to go agent," she softly called out, it was a bit of a shock to see her this way when her reputation held a different tone. Just as you went to walk by she grabbed your arm, grip soft as she squeezed. Your attention shifted up and she smiled. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you shrugged it off nonchalantly but she knew you meant it sincerely. Just as you were almost out the door you turned and teased. "Thank me with an invitation to the wedding. I've experienced a Wanda party in full effect; I'll have the salmon."

Wanda appreciated your softer side the most.

One time, just before they asked you to be theirs, when you thought no one was watching, you had an entire conversation with their cat, Liho. Scratching his chin, feeling the purr of his gratitude on your fingertips as you animatedly discussed your day aloud with him.

"Natty and Wands are so considerate," you sighed dreamily, "and sweet—I woke up to breakfast and lunch made for me as if they weren't really busy."

You paused, hand reaching out to scoop the teetering feline up so he could sleep as you spoke a bit softer, "Then they both gave me a hug in greeting and I nearly couldn't breathe because of just how stunning they both are, no makeup and in their matching pjs."

The way you spoke made Wanda smile, her heart nearly leapt from her chest at your pure adoration.

An adorable groan fell from your lips before you shamelessly concluded, "you're the luckiest kitty on earth, with the unobtainable milfs of my dreams."

Wanda walked away with a pep in her step as she went to seek Natasha out with the good news. When the elevator dinged you released a breath shortly after, hoping now that they'd make a move as you pet their cat that would soon adopt you as his favorite.

Truth be told, everyone in the room favorited you.

—

A smile took over your face as you heard your lovers laughing through the vents of your old room back from when you were single but shared a floor with them. It was endearing, hearing the warmth and deepness of their well established connection still burning bright.

It took you awhile to feel welcome in their dynamic, even with the invitation; what really helped you along the way was the sneaky moments like these. Where they thought they were quietly simping over you but you caught the whispered words and sweetest giggles.

Hearing it then helped you to regard them as safe, because they were talking out their complex feelings. How they felt about the other having these feelings, neither was offended by the other and it shocked you. Their flattery was not lost on you with their willingness to even risk the beautiful thing they already had going.

Then to hear it now, and have it solidified that even in moments of upset they'd find a way back to that same peace within seconds—they're safe, and you are loved.

Something you knew well, and felt as they gave up on sleeping without you that night—against that doctors orders of course; when you swiftly looked up from your book the women were stood at the door with sheepish smiles. None of you spoke, all very much aware of the state of codependence that exists within your dynamic.

Natasha yawned dramatically and Wanda huffed before she snapped her fingers. Soon two cots were beside your bed once the red mist had cleared, all wires adjusted accordingly before they laid down, took your book and covered up, then slid a hand each into yours.

"Goodnight," you yawned, "I love and missed you too."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #gxg #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff hurt comfort #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda x nat x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wandanat imagine #wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat x reader #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x you

[awandapologist]

Kiss It Better

warnings: mentions of a black eye, minor injuries, a tiny bit suggestive, but mainly just some fluff :)

nika x uconn!reader

You had been working on assignments all day; your fingers were cramping up from typing notes and you were exhausted. Midterms were coming up for spring semester and with it, the NCAA women's basketball tournament. But even with all the chaos on campus and in your personal life keeping you busy, your mind still wandered to a certain 5'10 brunette.

You had met Nika Mühl at a party your friend dragged you to at the end of the previous semester. You bumped into the taller girl while trying to get a drink, desperately needing something to relieve your bubbling anxiety from the social event. When her big brown eyes met yours, you swear your stomach flipped. You immediately noticed the small smile playing on her full, pink lips and had to forcefully pull your eyes away from them.

After a night of talking and getting to know Nika, you were practically smitten. The way she maintained undivided eye contact with you throughout your conversation, and how passionately she talked about her love for her sport completely charmed you. You knew she was a special person, and one you definitely wanted to see again, which is why you had to hold back a huge grin when she asked you for your phone number at the end of the night.

Since that night a few months ago, you and Nika had become close friends. Close, yes.... but not exactly in the way you wanted. Your romantic feelings for Nika had only grown with time, falling more and more for the Croatian everyday. You wondered what her lips would feel like on yours and what it would be like to hold her hand as you walked around campus. You swore that sometimes you thought she felt the same, but you were too nervous to make the first move, worried about tarnishing the friendship you shared.

Before you could torture yourself any further, a loud and very persistent knock on your door pulled you out of your stressful thoughts.

"What the hell-" you muttered. "One second!" you yelled, quickly leaving your bedroom as you wondered who could be banging on your door at this time of night. In hindsight, you should have known who it was by the insistent knocks that wouldn't let up.

As if by magic, the same girl plaguing your thoughts was standing on the other side of the door- except she was sporting a big black eye.

"Nika, what the hell??" you exclaimed, as you pulled the taller girl in by her arm. You quickly took her face in your hands, examining the injured area surrounding her eye. She looked down at her feet, avoiding your intent gaze.

"Are you okay? How did this happen?" you asked, concerned for your friend. You knew Nika was tough and could sustain a lot on the court, but this looked like it hurt. Badly.

When her eyes met yours, you saw so much emotion swimming in them.

"It was an accident at practice. Coach said I can still play in the upcoming game, but I'm just so pissed at myself for letting it happen."

Her large hands left her side to place on your waist. You tried to push down the damn immediate butterflies you felt at the simple action.

"I didn't even go to the trainer- I came straight here. I'm gonna get so much shit from coach tomorrow, but I don't care." Your breath hitched in your throat at the confession, but annoyance also rose at the girl's carelessness.

"Just wanted to see you," she said quietly, her lips forming the cutest unconscious pout.

"Nika!" you swatted her arm, immediately taking her by the hand to lead her to the bathroom. You rummaged through your medicine cabinet, immediately cleaning the wound on Nika's face before grabbing some ice.

The Croatian towered over you, wincing a little as you applied pressure on the freshly formed black and blue. "So..." you began. "Are you going to tell me more about how this actually happened?" you gently inquired.

Nika's brown eyes met yours again. "I was.... distracted, I guess. Paige ended up completely elbowing me in the face," she laughed meekly.

"Distracted? During basketball?" you asked, brow quirking up. "That doesn't sound like you at all," you said. You knew how passionate Nika got during practices- always giving her best effort no matter the time or place.

"Got a lot on my mind lately I guess" she said under her breath. Her eyes darted down to your lips discreetly and back up to your eyes.

The close proximity and the way Nika was staring you down began to make you nervous, and Nika could tell. You cleared your throat before you began speaking again,

"Oh? Like what kinda stuff?" you asked, now avoiding the other girl's line of sight. You pretended to seem disinterested and unsurprised, but Nika wasn't buying what you were selling. She knew you better than you knew yourself.

With a small smile, she removed your hand that was holding the bag of ice from her face, placing it on the bathroom counter. Her now free hand grabbed your waist, pulling you closer into her, while the other brushed a fallen piece of hair to rest behind your ear.

"Well, you see..." she started. "There's this one girl that has just not left my mind. No matter how hard I try, I just keep thinking about her." Her hand began to rub small circles on your hip, soothing both herself and you. "So much so that I got a black eye for it," she said. That same small smile you loved so much adorning her plush lips.

You felt like your heart could burst at her words and the way she was holding you. The realization that your friend felt the same was still sinking in, but Nika was done waiting.

"So... think you can kiss it better for me?" she said with a smirk, cupping your jaw before finally bringing her lips to yours.

#nika muhl #nika mühl #nika muhl x reader #uconn wbb

[starzblvd]

Me Espresso.ᐟ

Ellie thinks coffee tastes disgusting, but you taste delicious. Do u guys get my fire references in here, hope you babes enjoy 🍽️ Band!Ellie Bsf!ellie college!au

Hot summer nights while having your knees digging your weight into the carpet floor of your best friends small dorm room was starting to become weekly routine. Making band tees with cheap markers for her band that had its fair amount of supporters, somehow they’d sell out every time they performed. It was probably because there’d only be like 20 shirts that actually looked good enough to put out for sale.

Sitting next to you was Ellie with half of a bun she struggled to keep it together had some strands fall out and onto the back of her neck. You could smell the perfume on her, you convinced her to buy it that one time she’d agreed to come shopping with you. Wanting to be helpful you had to show her the right way to wear it, by spraying it on your wrist to then rubbing it into her collarbone, just to be helpful of course.

Holding up a finished shirt Ellie grins into the cocky face you’ve gotten to love the look of,

“Oh they’re gonna love this,”

“what your 300 Spotify listeners?”

“Ouch,” Ellie looks at you playing heartbroken to then throw the shirt right at your face. It was always banter like this, with the very few times the lines almost blurred to get somewhere further. Staying away gets harder when being with her was so natural.

“Just for that I’m so not coming to your concert tomorrow.”

“Hey hey hey I need my number one fan there, plus we’re getting ice cream after.”

You’d become a groupie to her, always front lining to every concert she was able to catch a venue in, which were basically all bars. When she’d look below to you under the neon lights playing guitar it felt like such a special moment only between you and Ellie. No crowd no other band mates, as if you knew what she was thinking of and that she wanted you too. Some of your plans started to circle around her now that she was being a bit more discovered.

”You aren’t going to talk to your fan girls?”

“Nah, I’d rather spend my time with you. You know?” Staring at each other awkwardly stopped being so awkward when they’d happen so much, it’s was perfectly normal.

And with opportunity you got to be with Ellie you already knew you’d take it. As little as you knew she was wrapped around with whatever you had been involved in too, stuck and feeding off your sweetness like a bee.

June.21.24

Just like every concert you shared your special moment, no one else can say they had Ellie’s direct attention during multiple songs. This time it was more of an outside stage with sand below you. Yellow hued string lights draped above the stage and more along the audience area. The heat was really getting to Ellie, making her glow from sweat. The black T-shirt she picked out only made her condition worse. The face framing bangs she cut herself were sticking to the side of her face.

She wasn’t even singing, but being under your watch scorched her hotter. To save herself from embarrassment she mainly looked down to her guitar playing notes, but she made a mistake looking at you when a lyric of a song she made with you in thought came up.

Tell me you never wanna lose me

Cuz I know when you call you call for me

She might’ve been a little out of it when helping writing the song, but it became too late when Dina saw the scrunched up paper and kept insisting on making it an official song for a newer album.

To you it was just another lyric that was written by anyone but Ellie. If only you knew how much she relates to your desperation to be with you in every way and any position she could. Whether your batting of eyelashes at her was intentional or not her finger slipped making an unplanned squeak slip through.

‘Fuck this is so bad she probably thinks I’m shit at playing now’

Lucky for Ellie it was the final song anyways and she could get far away from the crowd and you. Other people clapped upon their leave and when they finished their set list you knew exactly where to meet her.

”You ever going to do more than eye her when we’re up there?” Dina was putting away the instruments back to take home with help from Jessie.

“What are you even saying I don’t do that,” Ellie scoffs then sits down on a blue deflated bean bag that who knows how long it’s been in this back room.

“Oh you know what I’m talking about, your friend zone is taking longer than your time with Cat.” She crossed her arms waiting for another excuse to why she hasn’t done anything after a continued semi dating friendship since freshman year.

“She’s nothing like Cat that’s why, if I lose feelings for her after getting rejected that’s one thing but losing her completely because I fucked it up is different.” Her constant fear of never getting to be near you again because of some feelings she couldn’t stop screwed her over with overthinking everything.

In her journal it was the same thing, “She liked my shirt today, I don’t want to look weird and over wear it now, but not under wear it now. Unless she’d like to see it more often or maybe she likes my style in general she’d like me in anything?? Fucking hate this gay stuff and whys it so hard.”

One of the two large metal doors swings open with you appearing, with the smile you wore she had engraved into her mind with a hot rod of metal after sketching you a few more times she’d probably ever admit. Ellie got up and cut the short distance and accepted you into her arms trying to not look like a desperate looser that flushes over a simple hug. Her ears clammy hands didn’t make her look exactly so hot and relaxed though.

“You did amazing El’s,”

“You think so?” She lit up into a smile under your praise, no matter how many times you give it to her mind melts.

“Except for the part where she messed up on the bridge.” Ellie shot a quick mean look at Jessie, but he just turned a cold shoulder before turning away.

“At least I didn’t bump into Dina’s drums 10 times,”

While Ellie kept bickering back and forth with Jessie she still held onto you, this felt like an opening to try at doing something.

A kiss on the check seemed harmless and innocent enough to take back in the case Ellie thought it was totally disgusting. Raising your head up towards her cheek nearing the corners of her smile, pressing your lips to a pout Ellie brought her face back in your direction landing the small peck on her lips. Ellie locked in place while you pulled away, not that you wanted to, but felt too embarrassed to start a kiss you didn’t know how to finish.

“El’s ‘m so sorry, you just moved out of nowhere and-“

“No, yeah mistakes happen, it’s chill or whatever,”

Her shit faced expression wasn’t helping the full pink flush saturating deeper on her face. Ellie lowered her head to wipe the bottom of her nose trying to forget the way your lips felt, your lipgloss was still sweet on her and so was the taste of it on her tongue wiping her lips clean.

Now it was your turn to feel scared and conflicted. It was too silent in the room even with the chatter of everyone else doing their own things outside. Taking back the small kiss wasn’t so easy now that it was done and got taken up a notch further.

She dropped her arms from both of your sides, looking away from you because looking at you right now felt like looking directly into the sun.

“Ellie you should start up the car we’re done here,” Jessie throws the keys at her giving her a slight knowing look to let her go and collect herself back together.

She didn’t even say anything, walked away without a goodbye or convincing enough reassurance that would calm your nerves.

“I’m gonna go home too, see you guys.” You were left with only your actions to think about. Ellie’s response to an accidental kiss made her ran away in the other away how could’ve you imagined it going any of other way? Feeling guilt and shame were the only emotions you could feel, rethinking the crush you’ve denied yourself from paying attention to and that it should’ve stayed that way.

Instead of paying attention to the kiss Ellie let her actions drive themself, not wanting to think at all. Until she hit herself with the car door, why did I act so grossed out? Making different scenarios of how it could’ve played out a million times better she thrust the keys into the ignition.

She dug out her cracked old red iPhone from her butt pocket and threw it into the passenger side. It hit something else than the leather seat, one of the lipglosses you always carry around abandoned alone. Ellie reached for it and saw the shade label, Glassy Expresso.

It sounded like the taste in her mouth from earlier, a taste you stole from her too soon. Unscrewing the lid she contemplated just trying it on. My lips are dry anyways, she swiped the applicator across her lips twice to get an even coat and rubbed it in with her lips. Some of it slipped onto her tongue, again. If only the taste of you could come along with the gloss.

Lmk if you guys want a pt.2♡🍒

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie tlou2 #tlou2 #lesbian

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“lift up your sleeve”

at the farm maybe daryl saw shane grab your wrist tightly

Caring

Word count: 0.9k

Genre: Mainly fluff

A/N: my first request! hope you enjoy anon!!

~~~~~

You squint your eyes in frustration, rubbing a hand down your face and shifting your weight away from Shane. He was fed up with the continuous search for Sofia and he was taking his anger out on the whole group, yelling at the top of his lungs with a deep southern drawl. He believed that the search was futile and that the group should keep moving, but the rest of the group opposed, including Daryl.

“We’re close to finding this girl, I just found her damn doll a few days ago!” He piped up, pacing back and forth to ease his frustration. Shane harshly chuckled in response. “You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did, you found a doll.” 

The group then erupted back into an argument with Rick trying to hold Daryl back from lunging at Shane, the redneck jumping up and down and throwing up his arm as an attempt to move Rick’s arm out of the way. Frankly, you were tired and hungry and on edge and sick of Shane’s shit. So you piped up this time.

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Shane, blocking Daryl from his view. The rest of the group had now ceased their yelling and all had their eyes on you and your sudden surge of boldness. Daryl moved to the side so he could properly glare at the now stunned southern man.

“Daryl was only trying to help. What the fuck is so bad about that? It’s giving people hope, and that’s all we need right now, especially Carol. Now, if you could settle down, we could think of some sort of pl-”

You were cut off from your outburst and pointing your finger in Shane’s face by him violently grabbing your wrist, rendering it immobile by his strong grasp. He bored his fiery eyes into yours and spoke lowly, but so that everyone surrounding the exchange could still hear him. You tried to mask the scared look in your eyes that paralleled his, but you knew what Shane was capable of, and you felt your breathing speed up and your wrist throb.

“Listen here, sweetheart. You ever do somethin’ like this again and I will not hesitate to break this skinny little wrist right here, do you hear me?” He was so close to your face you could feel his hot breath hit the tip of your nose. You were so focused on the pain in your wrist growing by the second, you didn’t answer his rhetorical question “Do you hear me?!” He yelled suddenly, the grip on your wrist growing impossibly tighter. “Yes, Shane.” You grunted through gritted teeth. He threw your wrist out of his grasp and turned around with a huff. “This talk ain’t over!” He shouted to no one in particular while stomping in the opposite direction.

—

Daryl found you later in the evening sitting against the Greene house, basking in the evening breeze. You were absentmindedly rubbing your wrist that Shane had grabbed earlier, when he wordlessly sat next to you, crossing his arms and leaning his head against the house. You turned your head towards the redneck and furrowed your brow in confusion. Your heart was beating a bit faster just from his presence, but you were determined to not let your nervousness show.

“M’ dad used to do that.”

You sat up, snapping your gaze over to Daryl, who was still staring at the stars above. His voice was low, but still caring. He continued, his gaze unwavering despite your movement.

“He was a drunk. Beat me all th’ time. Left bruises all over.”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, now embarrassed, remembering that he saw that entire heated exchange. “It didn’t leave a bruise, Daryl. It’s not that bad.” You said softly as you rubbed your neck.

“Lift up yer sleeve, then.” He prodded, now staring at you with his icy blue eyes. He scooted closer to where you were sitting and shifted his gaze to your right hand, your left currently covering it. 

Shifting your eyes back to a particularly interesting patch of grass, you gently rolled up your right jacket sleeve with a wince. Daryl’s brows creased in anger when his eyes were met with a deep purple bruise forming at the base of your wrist, the purples fading into soft yellows. You now anxiously played with your left jacket sleeve.

A sort of growl exited his mouth. “Imma kill that sumbitch.”

You were stunned and your thoughts were reeling, your eyes flipping from your wrist to Daryl’s concerned yet angry face. He was being so careful around the wound, very gently holding and examining it. Did he actually care about you? You originally found it unlikely, but he didn’t seem like the type to open up to just anyone. A blush was creeping onto your face after his last comment, and you were silently praying that he didn’t notice. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and setting your hand back onto the soft grass. “Hershel’ll fix ya up in the mornin’. Till then, be careful n’ don’t put pressure on it, aight? I want ya to get better.” You softly chuckled in response. “You got it, Dr. Dixon.” You saluted with your left hand. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank you for caring. Really. It means a lot.” You said sincerely, placing your injured hand on his.

“Mhm.” He shifted his gaze back to the stars as he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. “Course I do.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #request #bro doesn't know how to show affection

[hurkules]

Even though he tries, your relationship with Jason will eventually come to an end. You had hoped otherwise, but he always knew:

“Listen, I know what you’ve been through, and I know what you’re thinking.” You place yourself in front of him, lowering to meet his gaze with your hands on his knees. “I get it. All of it.”

He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Embarrassed, he hangs his head. How could he look you in the eye? He keeps promising to be better, to stop sabotaging himself. Instead, here he is, once more, after turning away from you.

You gently cup his face and bring his eyes back to yours. “I’m only going to say this once, Jason. I love you, but this is the last time. You pull this shit again, and I’m done. There will be no window. There will be no waiting outside my door. There will no apologies. I will be done. I’ve been here. I’ve been understanding and patient, but you don’t get to do this to me.”

He sees how red your eyes are. You never got used to it. Every time he decides you deserve more and takes off, a little piece of you falls away. “I know. I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say. You’re right.

“Jason,” you say pushing his hair back and out his face. “As much as I love you and as long as we’ve been together, you’re still an asshole, and you break my heart.”

You finally let go of his face and stand up. He follows your movement and sinks back when he see your eyes piercing into him. “I’d do anything for you. I really would, but don’t think I won’t walk away.”

He doesn’t say anything and only nods his head. He lets you walk into your bedroom alone. You were never big on lingering.

Tomorrow, you’d wake up as if none of this had happened. You’d smile at him and be your usual, affectionate self. He’d dwell on it, though. It’s always in the back of his mind.

He wants so badly to stay with you and do right by you, but bad habits are hard to break.

#my post #this is has been in my drafts for at least a month #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #jason todd angst #jason todd headcanon

[we-are-maladaptive]

a story in which katsuki's bratty son tries to blackmail his mother! how terrible

— characters. katsuki, reader, katsuma (the son)

— contents. fluff, katsuma is a little shit

— word count. 600

— authors note. GJFCK MFGVFDXK GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDOMESTICTRASFJNRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGJBJFNVDSLM

Your son is alot like his father, in good ways mostly.

He stands up for himself at school, and is mostly independent. For the most part, Katsuma was a pretty easy kid.

However, he can also be the most major little shit on the planet, much like in the situation you're in now. He's learned what blackmail is, and he loves it.

You were in the kitchen, baking cookies, when you heard Katsuma’s voice from the living room. "Ma! What's this?" he yelled.

You turned to see your five-year-old holding the pregnancy test you had thrown away earlier.

Oh no.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Katsuma, where did you find that?" you asked, trying to stay calm.

"In the trash," he said with a mischievous grin. "I'm gon' tell Dad unless you give me extra cookies- and I wan' that brand new hero figurine at the store...AND I wan' my own bb gun- AND!!! I wan' a brand new pair of boo-"

"Katsuma." you sighed. You've known your son to be a major handful all his life, but also know realizing he did indeed have you in a tight spot. "Katsuma, this is important. I wanted to tell your dad in a special way."

Katsuma pouted, crossing his arms. "Fine, but I still want extra cookies...and the figure...an' can I still have the bb gun?" You sighed once more.

"Alright, you can have two extra cookies- AND the figurine... but you have to promise to keep this a secret for now," you said, hoping to buy some time.

"Deal," he said, his eyes gleaming with pride.

As you handed him the cookies, you couldn't help but feel frustrated, yet a bit amused. Katsuma was a lot like his father—brash, stubborn, and always wanting to be in control. You watched as he stuffed the cookies into his mouth, crumbs falling everywhere, and shook your head with a small smile.

Just then, you heard the front door open. Katsuki walked in, looking as intense as ever. "What's going on in here, hm?" he asked, sensing the tension.

Katsuma jumped in before you could speak. "Mom's got a secret, but she won't tell me!"

You shot a look at Katsuma, then turned to Katsuki. "It's not like that! I just…I found out something today and wanted to surprise you..."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What's that?"

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was now or never. "Katsuki, I’m pregnant. We're having another baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, processing the news. Then, a rare, genuine smile spread across his face. it was sadly short lived, and replaced with a smirk instead. "Oh really?".

Katsuma looked between the two of you, his earlier mischief forgotten. "So, does that mean I get a little brother or sister to boss around?"

"Katsuma, you will not be bossing your them around." you said, ruffling his hair. "You have to be a good big brother, okay?"

Katsuma's eyes widened. "I’ll be the best big brother ever! Can I teach them how to play hero games?"

You chuckled. "Sure, but you'll also need to help take care of them."

Katsuki walked over and pulled you into a gentle hug. "I'm really happy, you know," he said quietly. "This is good news."

You relaxed into his embrace, feeling a wave of relief. "I was so nervous about telling you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Why? You know I’m always here for you, no matter what."

Katsuma tugged at Katsuki’s pant leg. "Dad, does this mean we need to buy more baby stuff?"

Katsuki laughed. "Yeah, it does. And you can help pick it out." "Good! Yknow dad...when we go to the store,I wanted to see if you could buy me a new figurine..or a bb gun...or a brand new pair of boo-" "No." "Oh.. DAMNIT!"

The rest of the evening was filled with excited chatter about the new baby. Katsuma kept asking questions about what it would be like to have a sibling, while Katsuki suggested names and joked about teaching the new baby how to be tough like him.

Later, after dinner, you all sat together in the living room. Katsuma was snuggled between you and Katsuki, half-asleep from all the excitement.

Katsuki looked over at you, his expression softer than usual. "You know, I never imagined myself having a family like this," he admitted. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Me neither. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?"

He nodded, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "Yeah, we have. And it’s only going to get better from here."

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #mha x you #bnha smut #mha smut

[miley1442111]

all alone-s.reid

-------------------------

-------------------------

summary: spencer doesn't want to get hurt, too bad it hurts you in the process

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: spencer's a dick in this, reader puts him in his place :)

-------------------------

You were the new office genius. You’d just joined straight out of the academy, but with your genius, and your experience, you’d been brought straight to the BAU. 

What experience, you may ask? 

Your psychiatry and psychology degrees, oh, and the eidetic memory, IQ of 190, and Hyperthymesia you had. 

And the experience you’d had with a certain serial killer. Your father, Jason O’Neill, had been caught a few months ago, and after that you’d been given a full-time position. You got on well with the team, though one clearly didn’t like you. Dr. Spencer Reid. Apparently he was your equal in intelligence, though you never knew, he refused to speak to you. You probably had a more bubbly personality than the BAU regularly hired, but that had been disproven upon meeting Penelope, the Technical Analyst. 

He just didn’t like you. Oh well. It wasn’t going to ruin your life. You didn’t really give a shit. 

He gave a shit. He cared far too much. 

“Spencer, I’ve got your coffee, extra sugar,” you smiled as you handed out the drinks you’d brought the team from the cafe down the road from the small police station. You handed it to him, not waiting for an answer, he never gave one.

 Emily kicked him under the table. “What’s with you two?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Nothing.”

“She’s the nicest person on this team Spencer, yet you treat her like she’s just there for decoration.”

“She’s only good for two things, getting coffee, and keeping quiet,” he snapped, not realising you were behind him. You frowned, then hit him over the head with your bag as you were walking past, not sparing him a glance. 

Honestly, Spencer was practically in love with you since the second he’d met you. You were perfect, gorgeous smile, always something kind to say, always an interesting fact on your beautiful lips. He thought he could listen to you talk forever. Your voice made his day. Your eyes on his made him feel things he never thought he’d be lucky enough to feel. 

But he’d never let his guard down again. Not after Maeve. Never again. 

He’d rather be alone, though everyday you became more tempting.

Everyday he wished he could be with you.

Everyday, just like today. 

-------------------------

“Doctor,” Your voice rang through the precinct. “Aaron wants you.”

In recent weeks you’d adopted calling him ‘Doctor’, rather than Spencer. His name from your lips often went straight to his heart, he was a romantic, after all. Now ‘Doctor’ sounded clinical and impersonal. It was maddening. 

He didn’t answer, he just stared at his book, making his stand. 

“Doctor Reid, Aaron wants you,” You stated, standing beside him. “Reid-”

“Say my name,” he deadpanned, staring at his book, but not reading the words. 

“I just did,” you scoffed. “We aren’t school children, go to Aaron.’

You called everyone else by their first name, why not him? He knew the answer of course, but it still didn’t take away from his curiosity. Why had it affected you so much?

“Can you stop being a huge asshole for one day and just treat me like I’m a person and not just something here for you to fuck with? I deserve a spot on this team just like you do,” you boomed, smacking his book out of his hands. 

“I don’t think you do,” he said, standing up to his full height. 

“Well I guess it’s your lucky day because I’m leaving in a week,” you snarled back, then walked off to go back to the rest of the team. 

What? You were leaving?

Spencer caught up to you in 4 quick steps and he pulled you to the side of the corridor, shading you both from prying eyes in a broom closet. “You’re leaving?”

His eyes were frantic and… scared? You’d never seen him look at you with anything other than indifference, so this was quite the change.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He pleaded.

“Why? You are seriously asking why I’m leaving?” you sarcastically sighed. “Gosh, I guess it was that the coffee’s shit, or maybe it was the fact that I work in a hostile working environment!”

“That’s corporate bullshit-”

“No. It’s your bullshit. I have been nothing but kind to you in my few months here and every day it’s the same blank stare and shitty comments. Go fuck yourself Doctor Reid.”

You tried to pry out of the grip he had on your shoulders, but you couldn’t. He stood there, shocked and shameful at his actions. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he sighed, letting go of you to run his hands through his hair. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted. 

“Pardon?” You squeaked, jaw-dropped. 

“I’m in love with you… a-and I didn’t think it was a good idea because the last time I was involved with someone like that-”

“Spencer, I don’t care. I’m leaving the BAU. For good.”

Spencer’s stomach sank. He was too late. You waited for a minute as he just stared at you. He was trying to process it, realise his mistakes,and find a way to make you stay in a 15 second window. 

“Bye Spencer,” you sighed and left him in that broom closet. 

All alone.

-------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #bau team #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds

[takes1]

p.3 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want/ i had a very fun time writing suga/daichi/asahi being realistic high school friends. shit had me giggling. anyways ty for all the support!! taglist has gotten big i love it!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / m!receiving oral / f!receiving oral / grinding / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / asahi climbing a window / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.7k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"How good are you at climbing?"

Asahi repeated his plan many times to his two most trusted friends on the walk from the hotel. They were prepared for what this was going to look like when they hit a kneel behind the brick half-wall in front of your home.

"God," He sighed, courage fading from his face the longer he stared up over the barrier.

Your window was pretty high.

"Should I-- should I go through with this? I mean, this is crazy--,"

Daichi grabbed both sides of his face and gripped hard.

"Is that even a question?"

Completely taken off-guard, Asahi looked around, a little freaked out, but was only squished harder.

Daichi's expression was stone, "You have to do this."

"Dude, I don't think any chick is gonna be this into you ever again," Suga added.

"This is once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Daichi gave him a few hard slaps to the face and finally released him.

He rubbed his burning cheek, brow furrowed at the sudden tone-shift first, then with rising confidence. He nodded with resolution.

He was super into you, so why not? It was just a jump. He jumped all the time!

A few more supportive back-pats and half-pushes, and he was checking the look of the house to make sure Tetsuro wasn't on standby at any doors or windows. Thankfully, it was just your open window, exactly how you described it would be.

Asahi's big ass went into a full sprint across the yard, stirring a round of laughter from his peeping friends behind the wall.

The prospect of some old lady calling the cops on this giant sneaking around in the neighbor's yard was too funny of a concept to them.

Daichi snorted at Suga propping his phone up to record.

"Aaahah! Yess-ss-s!!" He giggled under his hand.

Their buddy jumped for the window, but only tapped it with his fingers.

"Noo-oo-hhha-haha-!"

Suga was belly-laughing into his arm. The brunette could hardly speak to encourage him to keep watching as Asahi looked around for anything to help him up.

To their delight, the only possible object to help him at this point was a skinny, unreliable sapling that sat an awkward distance away. He might have been able to properly use it if it was two feet closer, and if he weighed 80 pounds less.

They were grabbing at each other's hands, their laughter not even quiet anymore, when he began to climb it.

"OOoh-, Ooh! OH my-" Suga's laughter turned to just a scratchy whistle at the back of his throat as Asahi fell out of the tree with a thump!

At this point, the two were gripping each other, silently shrieking and vibrating, barely able to open their eyes enough to watch through the phone.

Daichi gasped for air when he saw him land on his ass, "AAAH!! AH-Hh--,"

"SHHHH! SHsh-ss-ss," Suga gripped his shoulder and slipped off, headbutting him in the process.

They were both whistling now, not even watching anymore, as Asahi finally got his hands on your open window just by a powerful vertical.

Fuck that tree. He was glad he left the stupid thing bent at 90-degree angle.

The two sat there on the sidewalk for the next seven minutes, overcome with demonic squeaking, gasping, and hissing, with tears rolling down their red faces. Every time they started to calm down, they'd look at the sideways tree and return to hysterics all over again.

Finally; the easy part was the muscle-up to get inside.

"God damn," He groaned in pain and slid into your bedroom with a stumble.

You swiftly got up, shut, and locked the window behind him, then drew the curtains for good measure.

From his seated position on the floor, he could see all the way up your simple white t-shirt. Pretty, lacy white panties right in front of his nose were the only thing you opted to wear underneath. He grew much, much warmer.

"God damn..." He repeated, though it sounded entirely different.

His hand reached to grab at you, but he stilled, thinking better of himself.

He noticed how pretty your long lashes were, looking down at him like he was your next meal, and wondered what you actually saw in him to make you so eager.

"Hi," You grinned and backed up to pull him to his feet.

It was a struggle to not just sit on him and make-out immediately. But the sun was just setting, and you wanted this to last all night, so you figured you could take a little time out for 'formalities.'

He quickly kicked off his shoes and took your hands, but didn't rely on your help to get up.

Your hands stayed connected between you. His thumb rubbed against the back of your knuckles, slow and tender.

You really were just a sweet little thing. He couldn't believe you were so forward over the phone.

"Hi," He replied softly. A big, warm smile down at you.

Sure, you wanted to know how his day was, how he was feeling, what he was thinking, if he liked your 'outfit'-- but that little exchange transformed your anticipation into desire, and you neededhim now.

A little sweaty from the climb, a little out of breath too, he gladly gave into your guidance to sit on your bed. It groaned under his weight, but you couldn't care about the noise when your lips were crashing onto his.

He tasted like one of those green Listerine strips- spearmint, you caught- and man, was he so good. His lips were full and soft, like you could melt into them all day. He wasn't over-ambitious, nor was he too passive with his mouth.

A growl rose in the back of his throat when you pushed his hands under your shirt.

"Please touch me," You sighed, brow furrowed, limbs growing weaker under his palms.

He sucked on your bottom lip for a moment and caught his much-needed breath. That low laughter was even hotter in person.

"God, you're so cute," He smiled, a small tease at your neediness, but he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked it.

His compliment made you melt in his arms as he picked you up to set you in his lap. The foreign feeling of hands covering your hips, pushing your softness down onto his jeans inspired a small, unfiltered whine onto his lips.

"Fuck," He chuckled, gasping at that unmistakable heartbeat around his tortured, trapped cock, then rasped, "I've got so many questions."

There was almost no resistance when you pushed him to lay down, mostly because he wouldn't trade where his hands were to catch himself. You swallowed an amused sound from him and only responded when he pushed up into you.

"a-Ah-ha," You whined, letting him trail a number of messy kisses down your neck, "Me, too."

Curious hands slid up his light shirt, massaging and prodding nearly every square inch of his hardened frame. He had some chest hair and a little tummy trail, which only added to your ferocity.

He noticed this interest and did you the favor of removing his own shirt.

The sight of his athletic build was not surprising, but it certainly made you want to speed things up. Your fleeting focus shifted to the next thing you wanted to see.

"You feel so big," You breathed, hips rolling against him when he wasn't holding you still.

Judging by the shy, modest smile against your skin, your deduction was right.

"You gonna be okay with that?" His voice buzzed against your ear.

You gasped at the sensation and his tone.

His fingers were edged up under your panties, gripping the plush of your ass, effectively driving home the question's sincerity.

Before you granted him the answer, you pressed a kiss onto his temple and retracted to sit up on his lap, "Are we asking our questions?"

"Yea-h," Just fell out of his mouth.

He didn't realize he even said anything until you responded to him. His focus was on how you rolled waves of pleasure onto his lap, back and forth, real slow, with that gone-look on your face.

"How many girls have you 'been with'?" You hooked your fingers under his waistband and watched his tummy twitch.

"Two."

You nodded with consideration, knocking out his past and future question with your present response, "Me too."

That adage sparked a look of relief and certainty on his face. His hold strengthened around your thigh when you unbuttoned his pants and started lowering the zipper.

"Let me know if it's..." He trailed and tried to suppress a shiver when you pulled him out.

He watched your eyes widen, lips pursed in an adorable astonishment.

It was a conscious effort to not shy away from the size. You couldn't believe your luck, as you took it in your hand to assert that you were not intimidated.

His chuckling interrupted your awed stare.

"Too much?"

A quick head shake, but you weren't convincing enough to his heedful mind.

Another slow, studied kiss between one another. He was holding you still by the side of your face and the back of your head, quieting every worry in your brain.

"We'll take things slow," He reassured you.

Though you were certain nothing on your face expressed concern, his promise stood as a reminder that you could stay calm, because he was safe.

You settled next to him, propped onto your elbow for the most comfortable angle you could get.

Huge, but safe.

The way his stomach tapered down into his hips had you staring and rubbing all around his dick, just curious to touch every inch of him.

A dark, pulsing head was already leaking a bit of precum. You pumped him once, real slow, and let the clear drip onto your tongue.

Salty, yeah, but not much burn to it. You licked the rest of it off of the slit.

He gave a strangled curse and you earned a big hand brushing through your roots.

"Mm..." You sucked a sloppy kiss to the head with a chuckle at his twitching in your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out past your bottom lip and bobbed down. His head fell back onto the blankets and his fingers flexed in your hair.

"Ooh, fu-ck," Was a pretty sound above you.

He was too big for you to take all of him, but he sounded completely satisfied with what you were comfortable doing.

With a slight bend in his knee, he was able to turn his hips slightly towards you. His firm hand in your hair guided you to a rhythm and depth he preferred.

"A-ahh--Fuck, baby that's s-o good..."

You never realized before, but it made it so much easier on your neck and shoulders-- not to mention the fact you didn't have to think anymore.

It helped you relax.

His muttered praise was just the cherry on top. Your thighs squeezed at how good he made you feel for just letting him take your mouth.

He lingered right at that threshold between too difficult and too easy for you, and let up as soon as you gave him some resistance to judge you by.

There wasn't a better person you could've chosen to trust with your body. His tendency to play it safe turned you on because it let you run wild without worry that he'd take advantage of it.

He was so gentle, yet firm- you wanted to discover what you could do with him.

"Fuuck, ah- good girl," He groaned at your ability to take him so well, a shocked, pleasure-soaked chuckle as he was able to fuck deeper into your throat.

You felt pliable and empty when he pulled you up by your roots. It was brand-new and a rehash of everything you wanted from him all at once.

He had a hungry admiration in his eyes for you.

Your hands flew up to tangle in his long hair in a passionate, rushed kiss.

Soft, kissy missionary or the roughest backshots his strength would allow-- you wanted anything, everything, as long as it was with him.

You wanted to be his.

He sucked the spit off of your lips and chin- the rest came off on your shirt, swiped away and forgotten onto the floor.

He readjusted to slide his pants off, yet chose to keep his briefs on. When he pushed you back onto the mattress, it was smooth and skilled, like he'd been planning exactly how he wanted to hold you.

Big, rough palms scoured your body, scratching and squeezing in all the right places to make you jump and squirm against him while he kept you occupied with his mouth.

"I'd love to return the favor," He chuckled against the shell of your ear when you wiggled away from his gentle pinch to your breast.

Your sensitivity motivated him to take his weight off of you.

You gasped at the chance to breathe with ease again. He trailed slow, wet kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and stilled at your exposed chest.

Even when he wasn't doing anything, he felt so good on top of you. You pushed out your chest for him and locked your legs around his waist, a silent beg for him to keep going.

The act stirred another question, muttered between increasingly rough stimulation on your sensitive skin.

"Why me?"

You kept your hand over your mouth to keep some higher tones quiet. Your heartbeat was pounding between your legs-- why was he so humble?

"You're-- mn-! so hot," You admitted. It sure was simple, but it was effective.

It made him blush and laugh a little against your tits, so you kept going, "You ever just, God, ah- know that you need somebody?"

It looked like he didn't really get it, but he was plenty flattered, and that was more than enough.

"Well," He smiled and pushed himself up to sit between your legs. He let his hair fall onto his shoulders so he could re-tie it, "I hope I make it worth your while."

How could he say it like that? You couldn't tear your eyes away from his flexed arms, reaching up for nimble, veiny fingers to comb through his gorgeous locks.

You finally understood it. His self-esteem was testy at best.

"You already have," You admitted.

With the new knowledge that he could be a bit shy, you slid your panties off for him with a coquettish smile.

A sort of challenge, a sort of invitation, when you spread your legs for him again.

He loved your flirty nature. You had this 'Come and get me, big guy' attitude that he couldn't ignore or back down from. In a way, it gave him the confidence he always wanted. Plus, it got him super hard.

A moment to drink up the sight of you completely nude for him.

His hands were rubbing, spreading your thighs open as he settled between them.

He could've been just-alright and it would've been enough for you. Just his breath was setting your nerves on fire. But, like everything else so far, it wasn't mediocrity that defined him.

His lids were low as he got a good look at what he was working with. He pushed your legs far and split you open in spite of -or perhaps because of- your bashful writhing.

A slow, hot kiss against your sex shut down your attempts to get in his way.

Scratching nails turned a bit sweeter, more trembly against his scalp.

A light touch was all you needed, and it was exactly what he offered; his tongue traced every bit of your already longing cunt before taking a feather-light approach to your clit.

"Oh, fuc-k," You whined, having not anticipated how quickly he'd work you up.

There was usually a learning curve to this.

You could see in his eyes that he was smiling, or that he at least found your surprise amusing.

This gentle, sweet method inspired your squirming again, but he kept you in place with heavy arms around your hips.

He kept you so still that his grip was making your muscles ache underneath him. It was a subtle, sweet mix of pain and pleasure that you craved.

"Does that feel good, baby?" His tongue dipped down, a pressure against your soaking wet, tragically still empty, hole.

He knew you couldn't reply.

"Can't wait to fuck you," He mumbled, words buzzing on you.

You were being good about staying quiet under your hand before his admission. But it seemed that you forgot your precarious situation as soon as the man was back to tonguing your clit, edging you much too close to orgasm.

"A-ah-!" You slapped a helpless hand onto his arm and threw your head back onto your pillow, "Asahi-,"

Your unrestrained sounds only encouraged him to keep going.

The sight of you coming completely undone, arching at his touch, calling his name like that, despite not knowing a damn thing about him-- he was starting to understand what you meant by needing somebody.

The tension in your tummy was starting to crest high and quick.

"I'm so close- no," You whined, scratching at him.

You couldn't push away from his grasp, nor escape his dogmatic tongue to relieve your overstimulated clit.

"No-o plea-se, I-want you," Your pleading was finally granted his attention.

He finally stilled and pressed a thoughtful kiss to the inside of your twitchy thigh. The desperation in your voice took his breath away.

Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter, you pull a move like this.

Who was he to deny you the chance to cum around his cock?

"Damn," He grumbled.

You flinched at his last, longing kiss to your pussy.

He settled next to you and became subject to some fast, light kisses to the side of his face while he finally removed the last of his clothes. You were so happy that he listened to you and that he was pulling out his dick again.

"Yesss!" You giggled and climbed on top of him before he could even straighten back out.

"God," He choked.

Your hips rocked back and forth on top of his strained cock- you were so wet for him, so eager, he couldn't help but compulsively buck against you, too.

His slick, pulsing cock slipped between your folds and bumped against your clit with every slow, strong thrust.

Hands stretched over your ass, he brought you back and forth exactly the way he wanted.

He was using you like a little toy.

You leaned down to your elbows, lips brushing his, and moaned to egg him on, "You feel soo good."

"D'you wanna fuck me?" You bit his lip, testing his patience, his temperament, with a blissed-out look in your eyes.

One set of nails buried into your curves, the other was grabbing the back of your neck to shut you up.

A deep groan surfaced past his lips and onto yours. His low-lidded stare was so intimidating, it made your thighs clench around him.

"Fuck-," He moaned, remembering he would need to stand up to go grab a condom, "My pants are so far away."

He laughed at how badly his cock hurt, hands now trying to still the addictive motion, "I gotta-"

You pried his fingers from you and sat up so you could keep going.

"Mm-mm, I've got some..."

A vague motion to the side of the bed. You leaned your head back at the friction and hoped he was watching you.

That was shockingly attractive of you to just have condoms. He looked to the dresser you pointed to with a raised brow, then closed his fist at the sight of your pretty body getting off on him.

"Alright," He groaned, "Watch it."

The room spun for a moment.

You were suddenly on your back, jaw slack at how he just picked you up and set you down so easily.

It was only disappointing for a moment, because you loved how he could throw you around, and his disgruntled, yet soft instruction.

You gave a shuddery, "Oka-y," through a big, excited grin.

He was leaning to sift through the contents of the drawer, on a search of a large amongst a handful of regulars, when he saw your phone light up at his presence.

"Looks like your mom texted you, by the way," He passed you the device without a further thought.

Finally one for his size in hand, he got back down and started to open it.

You frowned.

7:30 p.m: Make sure you take Maru out before it gets too dark.

9:00 p.m: take maru out. im on the game

A frantic look to the window. How long had it been dark for?

He sat straight up, "Woah, what's wrong?"

Breathless, you informed him, "I was supposed to take the dog out like, 2 hours ago."

His relief at the news was one-sided. For all he knew, a text from your mom could've been much worse. He didn't understand the trouble here.

"Wouldn't your-," He hesitated to bring up Tetsuro in this fragile environment, but had to, "Your brother just do it?"

You snorted. He never did anything that he could just put on you, especially chores that were specifically meant for you.

There was the idea to text and ask if he had done it already, but if he was still occupied, he wouldn't reply, and if he wasn't doing anything, there was the chance he would come up here and bother you until you did it yourself.

You shook your head and slinked off of the bed, despite every fiber of your being telling you to do otherwise.

"I'm surprised he hasn't knocked, yet," You shivered at the new cold and gave a nervous glance to your fortified door.

You looked divine, standing against the dim light that escaped through your blinds. Like a liquid silver painting, just for him.

Asahi grabbed a pillow to cover himself with and sat on the edge of the bed so he could put his hands on you.

He pulled you into a starved, rough kiss that you had to be gently pushed away from.

"Hurry back."

taglist.

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