#AND THAT'S V MUCH WORTH ACKNOWLEDGING

[rwbyrg]

You could do an entire "why RG is canon" post just made up of Miles's cameo vids.

lol. you got it boss.

Reason Why Rosegarden is Canon: #007

Miles Luna (affectionately referred to as RG King by many shippers), one of the show's head writers since Volume 1, has shown constant support for the ship at panels as well as in viewer submitted questions on Cameo. Everything from direct questions about the pairing's validity to talking hypotheticals, he often puts emphasis on Rosegarden in ways that are pretty difficult to ignore.

List of Miles' Cameos

The RG Dynamic

The RG Age Difference

Little Prince Allusion Confirmation

Oscar's Birthday

NND and RG

How Oscar May Inspire Ruby

Oscar in The Ever After

The ship has also seen support form other members of CRWBY. Including Eddy Rivas (another writer) interacting with RG fanart on twitter, to some enthusiasm from a couple voice actors, most notably:

Oscar's VA - Aaron Dismuke

Emerald's VA - Katie Newville

I'm pretty sure this list is not exhaustive, so if I missed any please send them over and I will update it accordingly!

[gloriousmonsters]

dsm really is like well about every other PD is determined by abuse, neglect, poor relationships and bad experiences as a child, and trauma. narcissistic personality disorder is largely defined by a desperate terrified need to never seem weak or like a failure and hunger for praise and approval. who tf knows what causes it tho

[quin-ns]

Always Forever (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: coriolanus finally lets himself acknowledge that he can’t stand to see you with anyone but him

Tags: (18+), cw: dubcon, cw: noncon, pseudo!incest (not related, reader raised with the snows), dark!coriolanus, pre-mentor era, jealousy/obsession/possessiveness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, fear of getting caught, lots of drama for my lovely readers

A/N: second coryo fic and it’s somehow longer than the last one lol. only one part. pls read the tags and proceed with caution 🫶

hunger games masterlist

“Look at you, you look so pretty!” Tigris beamed, adjusting the straps of your dress. “Doesn’t she, Coryo?”

In his peripheral, Coriolanus could see his cousin had turned to look at him expectantly, but his eyes were already on you. They always had been, and always would be.

“Yes, she does,” he replied without thought.

You faced him with a smile, and Coriolanus couldn’t help the pride that swarmed him just looking at you.

It was because of him that you were in his life, and until the day he died Coriolanus knew it would remain the best decision he ever made.

As children during the war, when he and Tigris would scavenge the streets, Coriolanus stumbled across you. Not much younger than him, huddled behind a pillar, all alone. You had a half a loaf of bread. It wasn’t fresh, but he still didn’t understand where you got it. You tore it in half and shared it with him.

He returned to Tigris with you in tow, his small hand clutching your even smaller one, and his cousin took pity.

She also took the brunt of the consequence for bringing home another mouth to feed, but sacrifices had to be made, didn’t they?

It was worth it. You were worth it to him—to both of them, really.

As you got older, Grandma’am eventually took a liking to you, although Coriolanus wondered if it was because she could see how much he cared for you.

It didn’t matter. Not really. You were part of the family now, even if you did not share the Snow name.

“Thank you, Tigris,” you said sweetly, pulling the older girl into a hug.

It was a big day for both you and Coriolanus. The academy was hosting an event for students to mingle with administration and alumni of the university.

Coriolanus had put on his best outfit—he already knew it was the same one he was going to wear when the Plinth Prize winner was announced in only a few weeks. He was sure it was going to be him.

Tigris had fashioned your dress by hand. Coriolanus was past questioning how she paid for her fine fabrics, but he had an inclination it was the same way they could suddenly afford food some days.

The long dress reminded Coriolanus of freshly fallen snow, the white holding a sense of purity and wealth that his family once had. It had a sense of elegance that you only furthered with donning it, but it lacked an extravagance that would force you to stand out.

It was perfect.

You parted from Tigris to approach Coriolanus. You had a light smile on your face as your hands ran down his black vest, adjusting it.

“We almost match,” you commented, referring to the white shirt beneath said vest. “If only I had something black.”

“Well, I’d let you borrow this, but then we’d be in the same position, only switched,” he teased lightly, drawing a small chuckle from you.

Coriolanus liked when you looked up at him, same as he liked hearing your laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll survive without.” Your hands fell to your sides. “Besides, it definitely looks more handsome on you.”

Hearing those words from you meant more than you’d ever know, and more than he’d let himself acknowledge.

You were so good to him, he couldn’t imagine spending the evening with anyone else.

When he walked into the ballroom of the academy with you on his arm, Coriolanus got a rush of power. Especially when heads turned. Looking at him, looking at you, just looking.

He wondered what the minds behind all those gazing eyes were thinking.

He hoped it was a balanced amount of envy and respect.

“We should find Sejanus, let him know we’re here,” you said, not thinking much of the sentence as you looked around the room, taking in the people and the decor.

Coriolanus thought everything of it, a sourness settling over him. Sejanus was his friend, but Coriolanus wished they hadn’t gotten as close as they did. It was because of his friendship with Sejanus that you met him, and began to develop… feelings for him.

God, Coriolanus hated to even think about it.

When you told him you had begun dating Sejanus, Coriolanus nearly had a heart attack. Then he felt violent. Not towards you. Never towards you.

It wasn’t just because he felt protective of you, or because Sejanus was district, or because Coriolanus knew you were far, far too good for his friend… it was everything. All of that and everything in between.

Before you could find him, Sejanus found you.

He was in a fine black suit, finer than anything Coriolanus owned, and a bright smile appeared on his face at the sight of you.

That was one thing they still had in common. Reverence for you.

“Had to come find my girl before everyone thinks she ditched me,” Sejanus joked, pulling a laugh from you. “Where have you guys been?”

“Making sure we look our best,” you replied, shooting Coriolanus a wink.

If Sejanus wasn’t reaching for you, Coriolanus might’ve smiled.

“Well, you did a wonderful job.”

Coriolanus let you slip away from his side, reluctantly giving you away to Sejanus.

The unfortunate thing was Sejanus was truly a decent person. Not perfect, but decent. Better than most, even if he was beneath you all. You cared nothing for status, and seemed to really like him. He treated you right from what Coriolanus had seen, making disapproval not exactly warranted.

Although, Coriolanus was always going to be incredibly protective of you. He doubted there was a world where he would be pleased with any relationship you found. Your interest in other people was becoming tiresome, truthfully. Did you really even need friends? Or lovers? You had Coriolanus, and he was sure that was enough.

His jaw clenched when you pressed a light kiss to Sejanus’s cheek. It would be much simpler if he was a terrible person. Coriolanus would have an excuse outside of his own selfishness to separate you—which he did not have now.

“Can I ask for this dance?” Sejanus wondered, shooting you a smile. At least he had the awareness to still look anxious.

But you… you grinned. You were too good.

“Well you just asked, so I guess you can,” you started sarcastically, but let him off the hook quickly. “And of course I’ll say yes.”

Sejanus looked relieved, taking your hand in his. You turned to look at Coriolanus, a small bit of guilt in your expression. You clearly hadn’t been planning on leaving his side so soon. You masked it with the same teasing tone you’d used before.

“I won’t be long, don’t get too bored without me, Coryo.”

Coriolanus only smiled for your sake. It fell the moment Senjanus led you away to a small group of other students dancing together.

From the sidelines, Coriolanus watched as Sejanus led you in a slow dance. He tried to avoid his eyes landing on his friend. He didn’t want to view the two of you in the same light as the other couples embracing one another.

Coriolanus tried to remember the first moment he realized how beautiful you were. It was so long ago, it wasn’t something he was even aware he thought so often.

The sun rose in the morning, roses had thorns, and you were beautiful.

It was simple as that.

After a dance and a half, Coriolanus couldn’t take it anymore.

His feet carried him to the dance floor, mind absent as he tried to justify his jealousy as protectiveness. Yes, that’s all he was. Protective. Like an older brother… like what he was supposed to be. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to be.

You and Sejanus were swaying and talking, but as he snuck up on the two of you, Coriolanus couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling in surprise at his presence.

“Coryo!”

“Can I cut in?” Coriolanus requested. His hand itched to rest on your shoulder, but he withheld. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he briefly wondered if Sejanus sensed that or not.

“All yours,” Sejanus agreed, spinning you by the hand. You turned in a circle, then a half, facing Coriolanus. “I’m going to go find my father, he’s here tonight,” he informed.

“I’ll come find the two of you in a few minutes,” you told Sejanus, who nodded then headed off. Before he did, he looked to Coriolanus and said, “Take good care of her.”

“I always do,” Coriolanus responded easily, because it was the truth. He didn’t need Sejanus telling him that. He’d been there for you long before either of you even knew his friend existed. He looked down to you, taking your hand in his while the other fell to your waist. You looked amused. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes, Coryo,” you replied with a smile. “Better than anyone.”

The slow waltz felt so natural, your movements in tune with his without thought. You two were always like that, always in sync.

“What were you and Sejanus talking about?” Coriolanus wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing important,” you dismissed with a shrug. “Sweet nothings.”

Coriolanus didn’t miss the shy smile appearing on your face. He couldn’t control the frown trying to take over his.

A more thoughtful look crossed your face, your smile faltering.

“Are you happy for me, Coryo?”

Coriolanus blinked.

“I… want to be,” he confessed, eyes scanning your face. It was the truth for the most part. He did want you to be happy, just not with Sejanus.

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Coriolanus wished he could open your head and investigate every corner of your brain. He wanted to know every thought you had.

“Sejanus is your friend, I would’ve thought…” you swallowed and looked away. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Coriolanus pressed, tilting his head, trying to make you meet his gaze.

When you did, he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You stepped back from him, parting completely.

“I need to find Sejanus. I’ll put in a good word for you about the Plinth Prize with his father.”

Then, you departed, not leaving room for Coriolanus to argue for you to stay.

He would’ve, and you knew that.

The moment you disappeared from his view, Coriolanus went looking. You had moved quickly. He found you across the room, sitting down at a table with Sejanus and Mr. Plinth.

He didn’t approach, he couldn’t make himself look bad in front of Mr. Plinth.

So he watched you talk, and drink, and laugh, and drink some more…

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Arachne whispered, suddenly appearing at his side. Coriolanus looked down at her. She was clearly talking about you. He could see the way she flicked her heavily decorated eyes in your direction. “Associating with him was one thing, but… well”—Arachne let out a vicious laugh—“do you think their children will call her “Ma” too?”

Coriolanus felt ill at the thought. Leave it to Arachne to provoke him, to conjure up nightmares he hadn’t even thought of yet himself.

“She’ll come to her senses,” Coriolanus muttered, gritting his teeth.

Arachne rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope so,” she mused, continuing on her way, blood red dress dragging behind her with each step.

Coriolanus looked back to you. He was overwhelmed with nausea as Sejanus grabbed your hand atop the table. Damn Arachne for placing that thought in his head.

He watched as you lifted another glass to your lips, smiling along as Sejanus talked to his father. What was that, your third? Sejanus had yet to say anything to you. He was fine with allowing you to get intoxicated?

Drinking alcohol wasn’t exactly a crime, but Sejanus didn’t know you well enough to know you were inexperienced. The last thing Coriolanus wanted was you making a fool of yourself.

Darker thoughts crept in. Maybe Sejanus was allowing you to inebriate yourself on purpose. The thought of him climbing on top to you made Coriolanus’s blood boil. His fingers twitched to form a fist, and his jaw clenched even tighter.

In that moment, Coriolanus decided he wouldn’t let Arachne’s mockery come true.

He had to help you. You needed his protection, even when you didn’t know it. You needed him. You always would. Coriolanus could remind you, then perhaps you'd see you didn’t even need Sejanus at all.

When you left the table—Coriolanus wasn’t sure why—he saw his opportunity. He approached you quickly, finding no problem in catching your arm and leading you away from the party. Away from all the people, where it could just be the two of you.

Out a door, down a long, empty corridor until the two of you ended up outside in the school’s garden. It was isolated from the party, you’d be safer here.

“Coryo? What—“

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, cutting you off. He released you to stand across from you, leaving you to lean back against the stone wall behind you. “I saw how much you were drinking.”

You looked up at him, confused, but not frightened. If anyone else had handled you the way he did, you surely would’ve been. But you trusted him. You always had.

“Did I drink a lot?” you asked, a slight pout on your lips. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” So, you were okay. That was good, wasn’t it? “I thought maybe you needed rescuing,” he admitted, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not.

You chuckled a little and the sound washed over Coriolanus, bringing him a sense of relief from all his previous tension.

“My hero,” you said lightly, smiling up at him. You were always smiling at him, but Coriolanus no longer wondered if he was worthy of it all. “You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

Coriolanus stepped closer. His hand rose, his fingertips trailing the outline of your face. Someone so pretty, so sweet, had to be careful in a cruel world like this.

“What would you do without me?” he proposed, not expecting an answer.

You didn’t need one, because you never would have to find out.

He’d follow you to the end of the Earth, just as he knew you’d follow him. You needed each other. You didn’t need Tigris or Grandma’am and especially not Sejanus, but without Coriolanus, who would you even be? Coriolanus couldn’t imagine his world without you in it. Not even if he tried.

Staring at you now, Coriolanus heard the voice in the back of his mind begin to whisper. The one that urged his protectiveness, knowing it was fueled by possession. The one he would use all his power to silence.

Something new had overcome him, watching you galavant around with Sejanus. Well, not new, but clear. Coriolanus finally had clarity. That’s what it was. That was how he finally acknowledged what had so long been lingering in his peripheral, just on the edge of his mind, waiting for the right moment.

Was this the right moment?

He made no effort to banish his most repressed thoughts. For once, he let them win.

Coriolanus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle, testing the waters. You did not react right away. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily a good sign, but that didn’t stop him from using it as an excuse to deepen the kiss.

His other hand found your face, holding you against him as he nipped at your lip, begging you to invite him in.

Your reaction was delayed, and Coriolanus thought maybe, just maybe, you had been thinking the same thing he had all along. That the faint taste of alcohol on your lips meant you were feeling more open to exploring this with him, and that all you needed was a nudge in the right direction.

But no, you were turning your head, making his lips part from yours.

Coriolanus faltered, but you still did not speak. Your breaths were clipped—flustered and confused. He could understand that. His own heart was racing, although adrenaline and need were to blame for that.

“Coryo…” you whispered so softly he nearly didn’t hear it. “What are you doing?”

Leave it to you to not get angry with him. Or even upset. At this point he questioned if you were even capable of feeling anger at him.

Coriolanus stepped closer, making you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think I can share you,” he confessed under his breath, but with conviction. “I know I can’t and you… you don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

You swallowed, eyes looking down. “Sejanus—“

“Doesn’t know you like I do,” Coriolanus finished, one hand still holding your cheek, tilting your head, making you meet his eye again. “Seeing you with him… he’s not good enough for you.”

“I thought you were above judging him for being district.” You sounded so disappointed in him.

“I don’t care that he’s district, he’s not good enough because no one will ever be,” Coriolanus corrected, imploring you to understand.

With a light sigh, his eyes fell shut. Gently, he leaned to press his forehead to yours. He blindly reached for your hands, and found them in each of his with no problem.

“I would not be happy seeing you with anyone else,” Coriolanus confessed, voice low. “Not anyone but me.”

You inhaled slightly. Was it that big of a shock?

He gave you no chance to voice it because Coriolanus was capturing your lips again, passion erupting in his veins.

His mind was clouded with thoughts that fought for center attention, his built up desires controlling him as his hands and lips cascaded down your body. Your neck, your chest, your stomach—

“Coryo, what are you doing?” you questioned when he began to move lower.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he cooed, dismissing your concern.

Coriolanus finally fell to his knees in front of you. He’d never take such a humiliating position for anyone else. But with you, it didn’t feel humiliating. It was exhilarating, knowing he was on his knees worshiping you, but he still held all the power. It was nearly perfect.

You gasped a little when he gripped your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder. More of your weight rested back against the wall, unable to stand straight on just one leg.

He looked upward, watching your face the entire time as he pushed your dress up around your hips, revealing your underwear to him.

Coriolanus was so close and you had yet to move.

Words couldn’t find their way to his lips. It was all too overwhelming in the best way. His heart slamming against his rib cage was a welcome feeling, and so was the pressure on his knees.

You bucked away before his mouth could reach your core. Coriolanus didn’t think much of it. He had a lot of other images rushing through his brain. Ones he wanted to become reality.

He scooted forward and tried again, this time making contact with the layer of fabric separating him from your most intimate spot.

Coriolanus heard a choked noise from you as he ran his tongue across the front of your underwear.

Right away, he wanted more.

His hands found the material acting as a barrier and he gripped it then pulled, tearing it from you one leg at a time, exposing you to him.

Before it could fall to the ground, he caught the shredded material and stuffed it into his pocket.

He felt a bit guilty, knowing how little you all had when it came to clothing, but he wanted to do this the right way. Coriolanus wanted nothing blocking him from showing you how good he could make you feel.

As much as his eyes were tempted to linger, impatience got the best of him.

He made contact again, licking a stripe across your bare cunt. Once he got a taste, Coriolanus couldn’t hold back.

His mouth latched onto you, tongue sliding between your folds, drawing a stifled moan from you. You reached for his head, trying to knock him away, but Coriolanus persisted. His will easily overtook yours. You weren’t going to take this away from him, not when he could make you want it just as bad.

He held onto the leg over his shoulder, gripping your flesh, surely leaving bruises in his wake. He held the skirt of your dress up with the other hand. With his mouth, he devoured you. Lapping at your core like a man starved, even more so when wetness began to form.

This wasn’t something Coriolanus had done, but he knew you better than anyone. He was sure he could figure out your body. He’d dreamt about it long enough, making you fall apart for him in such an intimate way.

He soon found that to be the truth when in only a matter of minutes your body was tensing. He continued to drag his tongue across you, giving every bit of you his full attention. He liked the way your thighs quivered when his tongue brushed your clit, it gave him an excuse to hold you tighter.

Your whole body flinched suddenly, but he shoved your hips back, pinning you to the wall as he brought you to the edge

His own pants felt constricted as his senses were overwhelmed by you. Your taste, your scent, the sound of your choked down moans, your hands smacking the wall (unsure what else to do), the feel of you against his tongue and how your leg strained over his shoulder, and the sight of you when he looked up through his lashes… god, you were magnificent.

You whimpered from above, teeth digging into your bottom lip, as he finally made you come undone.

Coriolanus held you still, relishing in the way you finally jolted into his touch instead of away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were the stuff of dreams in the most literal sense.

Your head tilted back against the wall, your ragged breaths causing your chest to rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. Your leg, still draped over his shoulder, was tense, even as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

A wide grin spread across Coriolanus’s face when you shivered. He couldn’t help himself. He nearly chuckled at your state, but then your hand moved to rake through his wavy locks. The sound caught in his throat as you tugged him away, finally looking down at him. The all consuming pleasure had faded into something more composed.

Coriolanus could tell how much of an effort you were making, and as your eyes struggled to focus, he briefly wondered how strong your drinks were.

“I’d like to go home now,” you said slowly, conscious not to let your voice falter.

You allowed him to help get both to your feet on the ground, but you did not touch him for the rest of the night, even when he tried to reach for you.

He was still hard behind the confines of his pants, imagining the slickness between your thighs that was the result of his actions. As you walked back through the ballroom, it took everything he had to not push you back against a nearby wall. People be damned, he wanted you more than anything.

He would press his chest to your back—no, he’d make you face him. Coriolanus wanted access to your lips so he could kiss you as much as he liked, even swallow down your moans when he lifted your dress around your stomach and—

A shiver of excitement coursed through Coriolanus’s body. What would your darling Sejanus think if he knew what just transpired? If he knew it was only for your dignity that Coriolanus wasn’t fucking you against the wall hard enough that you forgot where you even were?

You silently bid the party a farewell, forgetting to say goodbye to Sejanus (Coriolanus made no attempts to remind you). You continued to ignore him, hardly speaking and not even looking his way. Not as you walked from the school to the apartment. Stumbling up the stairs, you only spoke to claim you were fine as you gripped the handrail for dear life. Then you went back to silence as you traveled from the front door to your bedroom and locked the door.

Coriolanus only found out about the door because he’d tried to follow you in, but the door knob did not budge. You never used your lock.

Even if you weren’t ready to finish what had been started, it was still incredibly cold. Were you really upset enough to deprive him of your presence until the morning?

“What’s going on with you?” Coriolanus asked through the layer of wood. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue as it traced his bottom lip, waiting for your response. “Can we talk? Can you open the door?”

He gripped the knob tighter and tried again. It wasn’t going to suddenly unlock, but something urged him to prove it.

There was a faint thud as his forehead fell to the door, much as it had to yours not too long ago.

“Can I at least say goodnight to you?”

Again, no response.

He swallowed. Cleared his throat.

Again.

“Please?”

If they could afford to fix it, Coriolanus would break the door down.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood outside your door before begrudgingly going to his own room.

He laid in his bed and fished the underwear from his pocket. Your scent still lingered on them, and it was enough to fuel his imagination as he unbuttoned his pants and pretended his own hand on his cock was yours.

Even after finishing, Coriolanus had a nearly sleepless night. His mind was plagued with memories of his lips on yours, your dress bunched around your hips, him on his knees with his mouth on your cunt. He’d never forget the sounds you made.

When the sun rose, he returned to your door, only to find it still locked. He didn’t even knock, just simply grabbed the door knob and twisted.

You always woke up early for school, putting yourself together in a way that could reflect wealth that you did not truly have. Coriolanus was sure you did it for his sake, knowing how much appearances mattered to him.

You were good to him like that.

If only you’d let him in now.

The laugh that escaped him lacked humor. It was a bitter, frustrated sound.

His hands rested on his hips, his own fingertips pressing in. It was that or gripping the door knob and if he touched that thing again and found it locked…

“This isn’t funny anymore, Y/N,” Coriolanus called through the door. “If there’s a problem we can talk about it. Just stop acting like a child.”

“What, did she steal your blazer again?” Tigris wondered, appearing out of nowhere. Despite her voice being soft with sleep, Coriolanus was still startled.

“No, just a minor disagreement,” Coriolanus replied, quick on his feet as always. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure we’ll talk it out.”

He emphasized the word ‘talk’, hoping you’d hear him through the door. If you did, he wouldn’t know. Tigris, on the other hand, just nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The smile he gave his cousin on her way was forced. She couldn’t tell that his teeth were clenched together, which was for the best.

A thought dawned on him. You could just be testing him.

Coriolanus knocked on the door and waited, like he’d just solved your puzzle.

What was that thing about insanity—trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

“You’re going to have to come out of your room at some point,” he reminded, trying his best to make it not sound like a warning.

Coriolanus wasn’t used to being frustrated with you. You were usually his relief from people who made him feel this way. He didn’t understand why everything changed all of the sudden.

You’d enjoyed yourself while he got what he wanted. Why was that so bad?

You had always been an enigma, but Coriolanus felt as if he’d come to understand you—that he was the only one who did or would.

Sejanus would never know you the way he did, that was for certain.

From in your room, Coriolanus heard movement. Your dresser opening, maybe. It didn’t matter. You were awake. And ignoring him.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake.” The neediness in his voice was embarrassing. No one else could make him resort to this. “I can hear you. Are you coming out?”

“What is going on?” Grandma’am questioned, standing at the end of the hall. “You aren’t dressed for school. We can’t have you being late.”

Coriolanus looked down at himself. He’d gone to sleep in the outfit he’d worn the night before, and still wore it now.

Arguments died in his throat. You and Coriolanus walked to the academy together. You’d have to come out and talk to him. Grandma’am would drive you crazy if you missed a day of classes.

In record time, Coriolanus was in his uniform.

He might’ve been quick, but apparently you were quicker. As he opened the door to his room, he heard the front door shut.

“Whatever you did, Coryo, apologize,” Tigris advised when he chased the sound of your exit.

Coriolanus just looked at her. Why on Earth would he do that? He’d done nothing wrong.

Down the stairs and out of the building, Coriolanus finally—finally—got a glimpse of you. A flash of red as you turned the corner, setting off down the sidewalk.

It took nothing for him to catch up to you.

“How are you feeling?” he wondered first, recalling your drunken state. “I was worried about you.”

“Were you?” you challenged, eyes forward.

It was good to hear your voice, but Coriolanus furrowed his brows at your tone. You had no reason to be this rude.

“Of course I was, Y/N. How can you even ask me that?” His hand dropped to your shoulder, only for you to shrug it away. “What is wrong with you?”

You looked at him, finally, but the emotion in your gaze… there was something wrong with it. Something distant, lacking the affection those beautiful eyes of yours usually held for him.

Coriolanus swallowed.

“Are you really going to be like this? Is it because of Sejanus? You don’t have to be with him anymore.”

You turned your head forward.

“Leave me alone, I’d like to walk in silence.”

Since when had you become so spiteful? Coriolanus didn’t like it. It evoked something similar in him. He leaned down, getting near your ear.

“You liked it, I know you did,” he hissed out. Coriolanus hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, but you were being completely unfair to him right now. “You can’t lie to me.”

Despite the way you shuddered, your jaw remained clenched. You not talking to him was more infuriating than if you had screamed in his face. At least that way he could tell what you were thinking. But no, you wouldn’t allow him to be privy to your inner thoughts, no matter how much effort he put into prying them from you.

It wasn’t a conversation for the public, even Coriolanus knew that, so when you got to the academy a few steps ahead of him, he bit his tongue.

“What did you do to piss off your sister?” Clemensia asked him in a whisper in class. “You’re usually attached at the hip walking in.”

The way she called you his sister felt wrong in a way that it hadn’t before. Even if he never thought it fit when people would say that or assume it, something had shifted.

And was it that obvious? Coriolanus hadn’t even brought it up. He’d simply been a few steps behind you into the classroom. You’d gone to your desk without a word. Was that strange to everyone else too? It was validating, in a way, to know your behavior was, in fact, targeted and odd, but it also made him wonder what the two of you appeared to be from an outside perspective.

“It’s nothing,” Coriolanus lied to her under his breath, keeping his eyes on his paper.

“So you didn’t get into a fight?”

Coriolanus’s brows curved down. He glanced her way.

“A fight?”

“Arachne and Festus saw you pull her away from Sejanus and disappear somewhere last night.”

It was mostly the truth, but she said it so nonchalantly. She couldn’t know what happened after you disappeared. Coriolanus hadn’t seen a single person lay their eyes on either of you in that private moment.

“I get it,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone from the districts either. She’s not thinking about how she’ll be perceived, or you. Don’t let her drag you down.”

Coriolanus just listened, the night flashing through his mind. No one could’ve known, there was no way.

He quickly corrected the hypocrisy in his own mind. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just private. No one else deserved to see you in that state—no one but him.

“We’re fine,” Coriolanus told her. “And her and Sejanus aren’t together anymore.”

Clemensia smirked to herself. “Good.”

Word spread quickly, and with the way you avoided Sejanus—a byproduct of you avoiding Coriolanus—everyone believed it. The final nail was the way you failed to appear at lunch. It got under Sejanus’s skin, causing him to question the state of your relationship without you to answer any said questions.

Truthfully, Coriolanus hadn’t seen anything as amusing in a long while, but your absence weighed on him, too.

The walk home alone was dreadful without you. Even in the morning when you had ignored him, it was better than you being completely gone.

When he got home, your door was shut. How quickly had you left your classes, how fast had you walked, all to avoid him?

This was growing old very, very quickly.

Grandma’am was on the roof with her roses, and Tigris seemed to be missing from the apartment. It was only because of that that Coriolanus devised a way to get into your room.

Why he didn’t think of picking the lock before, Coriolanus supposed it was because he thought you’d give in quicker and let him get the better of you. You were usually weak to him, allowing him to get his way without a problem. You had before.

“Last chance,” Coriolanus called through the locked door. He almost thought that would be enough. He wanted you to open it of your own will. “You can’t avoid me forever, just let me in.”

No such luck.

You looked surprised when he forced the door open, as if you really believed he would just take the loss. You were supposed to know him better than that.

You’d been sitting on your bed in pajamas, evidently already done with the day. Your legs were criss-crossed with a textbook in your lap. You looked up at him, a questioning expression taking over your features.

“What are you doing, Coryo?” you asked, voice low, eyes not quite meeting his directly.

“You weren’t opening the door.” Coriolanus squared his shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You shook your head, something between a sigh and a laugh escaping you in a puff of air. Coriolanus did not like the accusatory undertone.

“Did you think maybe I left it locked on purpose?” Were you mocking him? “That I wasn’t lying this morning and I really don’t want to speak to you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus insisted, closing your door behind him. He moved towards your bed, watching your body language the entire time as he finally sat on the edge beside you. “You thought I would just let you ignore me?”

You swallowed, closing the book in your lap. “I guess not,” you admitted, setting the textbook aside. “I am well aware of your ego.”

A frown crested Coriolanus’s lip. “Is that what this is—you want to hurt me?”

You tilted your head, catching his gaze, much like he’d made you do the night before. It was the first time in nearly a day since you’d looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you want, Coryo?”

“I want you”

“You want me to what? Not be with Sejanus? Is that it? Is that why you did what you did?”

“You say that like it was something awful. I was there too.” Coriolanus felt a familiar heat rush through him at the memory. “I know what I saw.”

“You humiliated me.”

“In front of who? No one saw us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is? Because you know Sejanus is weak?” Coriolanus searched your eyes and leaned in closer. He was feeling antagonistic. “I mean, how could he touch you, knowing I got there first?”

Coriolanus caught your hand as you raised it, presumably to strike him.

“Is that what we’ve resorted to?”

He squeezed your wrist, enough to cause pain. You winced and tried to move away, but Coriolanus wasn’t going to let you get away.

“I could ask you the same,” you sneered, sounding like an entirely different person.

“What has happened to you?” Coriolanus questioned. He took a breath. “Do you want me to be sorry for what I’ve said? Fine, then, I apologize. But I’m not sorry for what I’ve done. You should not be with him.”

“I’m supposed to believe someone driven by jealousy?” you inquired back, blinking back tears. Why were you being so dramatic? “How can I trust anything you have to say to me now?”

Coriolanus was taken aback by the question. Did you really not trust him anymore? Even with the tight hold on your wrist, he could feel you slipping from his grasp. If you were to leave him, he’d never forgive the universe for its twisted irony. Coriolanus put so much time and care into you because he wanted you. His family didn’t, at least not at first, but even so, you’d have nothing if it wasn’t for him. Is that what you wanted to leave him with now? Nothing? Nothing but the memory of when you were his?

No, that wouldn’t do.

It just wouldn’t.

“You can trust me, I promise,” Coriolanus insisted, pleading, even. “I love you, I always have—you can’t have expected me to sit back and do nothing while you…”

You looked more betrayed, if that was even possible. He was trying to make it better but explaining was only making it worse. Coriolanus had never met a person where the more he talked, the more he tried to persuade them, they believed him less. In that way again you were an anomaly.

If Coriolanus couldn’t tell you, he could show you. He had to make you understand—he could salvage this and get what he wanted in the end. If he was anything, it was persistent. It had worked before, excluding the aftermath.

Coriolanus moved, keeping his hold on your wrist as he shoved you down, pulling himself up and then on top of you in a fluid motion.

You squirmed, questioning, “What are you doing?”

Coriolanus caught your other hand and brought it to join your other wrist he already had a hold of in one hand. He straddled your waist, keeping your body pinned.

“You won’t listen to me,” he pointed out. Something inside him urged him to lean down. “But I can still prove it to you, that it’s me you should be with. No one else.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours. It was more forceful than it had been the previous night, ensuring you couldn’t turn away again. His tongue was already in your mouth before you thought to turn your head.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t kiss him back, Coriolanus was in bliss. Your lips were soft, molding perfectly to his. You moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was a protest, but it made his body heat up all the same. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of you. Last night left him wanting more, not less.

More than that, he was determined. When he finally detached his lips from yours, the both of you panting, Coriolanus set forth on a track that wouldn’t allow him to turn around.

Even if he tried to take it back, everything would already be changed.

So he didn’t even bother hesitating. Coriolanus was determined, even, at yanking your clothes from your body.

Your words were jumbled by the time they reached his ears. His own heart racing with excitement drowned out any requests you had for him.

The word “stop” left his vocabulary until you yelled it too loud for his liking.

Your whole body shook when he clapped his hand over your mouth. Your top was completely gone, your chest heaving as you breathed through your nose. While Coriolanus could’ve easily been distracted by your state, he trained his eyes on your wide ones.

The word helpless crossed his mind, and he had to take a moment to control himself.

“Grandma’am is upstairs,” Coriolanus finally warned, voice low. “Don’t disturb her.”

You blinked. Coriolanus was almost surprised by the way you settled down, but it told him you understood the implications of alerting her.

Your position beneath Coriolanus had to be better than starving and cold on the street, didn’t it?

You didn’t have Sejanus anymore. If you thought you did, Coriolanus would make sure to remedy that with his friend before you got to him first.

As Coriolanus lifted his hand from your mouth, he silently implored he was the only one who could save you from being branded a liar.

Just as Coriolanus had always admired, you were a quick learner. As heartbroken as you looked, you didn’t raise your voice again.

“This isn’t how you make me want to be with you,” you pleaded. Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take it as a challenge.

“We’ll see,” he mused in response.

He got you bare, and then himself.

You averted your eyes from his body, which offended him more than he thought it would.

“You can look,” Coriolanus said, voice heavy.

Something about his voice must’ve gotten to you, because your eyes flicked between his legs. You swallowed and looked back away.

A prideful smirk overtook Coriolanus’s face.

He moved then, still keeping hold on your wrists in one hand, dragging them down over your belly, and placed himself between your legs.

With one hand still holding your wrists, Coriolanus shoved his other hand in between your legs, two prodding fingers finding your entrance before making their way in. Eagerness won out over his patience. He could take things slow later.

You tensed around him, fighting the intrusion, but he wasn’t going to let you win. Even if you weren’t squirming against him, you were resistant. Coriolanus slowly worked at breaking your resolve, massaging his fingers inside your walls, thumb on your clit.

He could see shame wash over your features when a wetness began to form, coating his fingers and allowing him to work you open for him.

“See, you can lie to me, but your body can’t,” Coriolanus asserted, voice thick with arousal.

That triggered something in you, and perhaps Coriolanus reacted too harshly.

It felt like it all happened in a flash. One moment you were on your back, beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and the next he had to manhandle you onto your chest and knees to fend off your attack and keep you still. He regained his hold on your hands quickly, pinning them behind your back while you panted from the short lived exertion.

Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips to your ear.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to fight me,” he growled.

Your shoulders shifted as you found further discomfort in your new position, but you didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your voice—just like before.

Coriolanus wanted to watch your face as you submitted to him and his love for you, but if this was the only way he could have you for now, so be it.

He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the twitch of your body as he pressed the tip in.

Despite all the effort to get you where you were now, Coriolanus slid his cock into you with ease. Your body welcomed him, even if you didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked forward, shoving himself into you deep. You whimpered into the pillow and Coriolanus’s mind went blank for a moment, basking in the feel of your warm cunt around him. It was better than he imagined.

His cock twitched inside of you, eager to fill you, but he had to make this last. Just like before, Coriolanus wanted to make you feel good. So good you had no choice but to want him.

Coriolanus drew his hips back after a few moments of just resting inside you. When only the tip remained, he thrust forward. Your body rocked against the mattress.

He did it again, this time slower. Forcing you to feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. Coriolanus liked the way your body quivered as you succumbed to the pleasure he could give you.

You felt like heaven, all wet and warm and squeezing around him in a way that made him want to never leave you.

To show he trusted you, Coriolanus let your hands go. They immediately fell to grip the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t go to fight him and that counted for something. He had an ulterior motive, though, because now he could hold your hips with both hands.

He leaned down, pressing kisses to your back. He ran his hands along your skin, drinking the entirety of you in as he moved inside of you.

His movements were a bit slow, calculated, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. Coriolanus imagined you rocking your hips back, your moans filling the room, eager for more. That would have to be saved for another time when you were more willing.

You body tensed and shivered, and Coriolanus knew you were getting close. You still had yet to speak.

It was petty, the sudden sharp thrust of his hips to shove his cock deep and hard into you.

A gasp—he drew a gasp from you.

He allowed his weight to fully fall on top of you, finally. Your skin was so warm on his chest, it was as if your body was trying to burn him off of you. Maybe it was all in his head. But it didn’t really matter. It was far too late for that.

“It’s okay to want it,” Coriolanus muttered into your ear.

He felt your body reacting and you were moments away from what he’d been pushing you towards. His thrusts grew shallow, not letting too much of himself leave you as you finally came undone.

You buried your face into the pillow, muffling your cry as you finally came around his cock. It was then that he got what he wanted, even if it was only brief. Your body spasmed and pushed back, trying to feel every inch of him stretching you out, clenching down to hold him there.

Coriolanus followed you soon after, cock throbbing in your walls, spilling inside of you and painting them white. He held your hips so tight he was sure he’d leave bruises as he held himself still, letting the both of you experience the sensation in full.

After however long—Coriolanus didn’t count the minutes—he withdrew from your body. He was a gentleman, so he helped you to lay down before your body collapsed on its own.

He laid down beside you, pulling your blanket over the top of both of your bodies with the intention to bring you comfort.

You were wordless, rolling onto your side, facing away from him.

Coriolanus turned with you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling you back to him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before resting his lips near your ear.

“Do you really think not talking to me is the best idea?” he whispered, less frustrated than before.

You shook in his arms, but your voice was steady as you asked, “What do you expect me to say to you?”

Coriolanus didn’t have to think all that long.

“That you love me.”

You were silent for a moment, Coriolanus thought he was going to have to repeat himself.

“I did love you,” you uttered, voice threatening to break. “But it wasn’t enough for you.”

Coriolanus could’ve been angry, but he knew he’d win you back. He had all the time in the world, knowing you wouldn’t dare continue your relationship with Sejanus. How could you? You were already spoken for.

You were Coriolanus’s, you always had been. He realized it before you, but he knew you’d come to learn the truth. You’d accept it eventually, and everything would fall into place exactly as he wanted.

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[toastsnaffler]

man. getting a little sick of being everyones 15th option for everything. when is it my turn to be someone's first choice :^[

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[puck-luck]

calling quinn “captain” in bed and he goes feral

warnings: emosh quinn, sex as comfort HIII, masturbation (fingering), wee bit of dirty talk, riding, unprotected p in v, use of "captain" pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: the one where quinn comes home after the 'nucks are knocked out of the playoffs (i am not manifesting!!) and he and his girl make up for the time missing each other. wc: 1601

The playoffs had come to an end with a simmer for the Canucks. Quinn, who had led his team to so many victories throughout the season, was headed home after game seven of the second round– just narrowly missing the finals for the Stanley Cup.

You had called him briefly after the game, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had been quiet, listening to you speak about your day– a topic that he himself had requested, so unhappy with his game that he didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he played hockey for a living.

Listening to you talk about the book that you read that day, the walk that you had gone on with your best friend, and the annoying conversation you had to have with your boss that you hate made him feel like he was just a normal guy for a day.

Now, with him on the way home, you were ready to comfort him in any way that you could.

And it started by making him forget about his problems in the way that only you were allowed to do.

That’s why you were waiting on your couch, naked, legs spread and a finger on your clit. Quinn was due to walk through the door at any minute and the first thing you wanted him to see when he walked into his apartment was his girlfriend waiting for him.

Quinn mused about your beauty all the time, whether it was in public or just to you or just to himself. He had told you many times over the course of his relationship that though you were beautiful all the time, there was nothing like the way you looked underneath him as his cock thrust inside you. 

Tonight, he would certainly be inside you. You were just hoping that you’d be the one on top of him, taking care of him, making him feel good.

The lock flipped as Quinn unlocked the door, making you perk up and tilt your head with innocent eyes at the front door. 

“Hi, Q,” You greeted.

Quinn had crossed the threshold with his head down, dragging his suitcase behind him. His face was soft when he looked up at you, placated like he was happy to see you but still so, so sad. Then, his eyes fixed on your fingers, the ones that were running up and down your glistening slit.

“Hi,” Quinn replied, seeming frozen in place. His eyes darted between yours and your fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” You said. You reached up to pinch a nipple between the fingers of your other hand, watching Quinn’s eyes follow your movements.

He shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes. “Anything in particular?” He asked.

“Been missing your cock, Q. I’ve been feeling so empty without you around to fill me up.”

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. 

As the expanse of his chest appeared to you, the light dusting of hair that you loved so much, you moaned softly and pushed a finger inside yourself. It was smaller than Quinn’s, and the angle was always weird when you fingered yourself, and it was hard to get any real pleasure without getting your other hand on your clit, but it was worth seeing the look on Quinn’s face and the way his pants tightened.

“I tried my fingers, Q. I tried my toys. They just– oh– they weren’t as good as you.”

“Fuck, I missed you,” Quinn said, crossing the room and kneeling over you. “That mouth, so dirty, baby.”

You leaned up, capturing Quinn’s soft lips with your own. The kiss was wet, both of you trying to convey just how much you had wanted each other while Quinn was gone without saying a single word. Your finger never ceased moving inside of you, although Quinn had started to rub over your clit. You worked in tandem, comfortably, making your body roll into the pressure. Your movements, and his, were slow, savoring the fact that you were together again and would be for nearly the whole off season.

“I want to ride you,” You breathed into Quinn’s mouth, so quiet that he would practically have to taste the words on his tongue to understand you.

He did, though. Of course he understood what you said. He knew immediately, with the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he sat back onto the couch. He fumbled with his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down his thighs just enough that they were out of the way. 

You sank down on his cock as soon as he pressed it against your opening, your mouth falling open with the sensation.You panted into Quinn’s mouth as you began to lift yourself up and down. 

Quinn’s hands were resting on your hips, doing nothing except acting as a presence, something to anchor you as you rose and fell on his length. 

“Feel so good,” Quinn praised, transfixed by the way your hair was framing your face and the way you bit your bottom lip when you found your g-spot without his help. “Was this what you imagined while I was gone, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You agreed. “Fuck, Quinn, I needed you to take care of me.”

His heart quivered in his chest at that, those words meaning more to him than so many of the things you could have said when he came home. 

“I’m here,” Quinn assured you, his fingers pressing into your skin, grabbing and enveloping the shape of your hipbones. “Gonna take care of you forever.”

“So good.” You began to bounce up and down harder, more quickly, relishing in the way Quinn’s skin slapped against yours. “Q,” You whined, clutching at the muscles of his shoulder, one hand pressing against his chest. “Quinn, I’m gonna come, oh, Captain…”

All the breath flew out of Quinn like it was stolen from his lungs, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste that had just one more use left in it. It was like his vision went dark, the word echoing in his head. Captain, captain, captain.

Quinn’s hips moved of their own accord. His hands, having once rested delicately on your hips, were now clutching your ass desperately. 

“My girl, fuck, need me to take charge like I do on the ice? Need your captain to fill you up ‘cuz you can’t make yourself feel good? Have I spoiled you that much?” Quinn rambled, fucking into you with earnest. 

He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. His hips were like a machine, fucking into you so well, so consistently. It was militant, Quinn able to play you like a violin after memorizing your body long, long ago.

You could only moan in response, the kiss of his cock against your walls, as strong as a heartbeat turning your mind to jelly. What was originally a night meant to tease Quinn, to prioritize him, had quickly devolved into a night of mind-numbing, leg-shaking pleasure for you.

“Looked so good, touching yourself when I walked in,” Quinn continued. “Such a pretty sight to walk into. You’re all mine, huh? Just needed me to come home and make you feel good? Show me what I was missing?”

“Quinn,” You whimpered.

“Captain,” He corrected.

“Captain,” You repeated, drawn out. As if hypnotized, you were willing to repeat back anything he said. “Can I come?”

Quinn groaned, gravelly in the back of his throat. He lifted you up and down to meet his thrusts, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you. His eyes focused on the ring of your wetness around the base of his cock, the clear pool of juice that glinted on his abdomen in the light.

“Please,” You begged, your head finding the curve of his neck. “It’s so good, Cap. I need to come, please let me come.”

“Come, baby,” Quinn encouraged, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as you squeezed him. “Come with me.” With just a few more thrusts, Quinn felt himself burst, spurting inside of you. The aftershocks overtook him when you let out a sigh at the feeling of him, his warmth, filling you up in a way it hadn’t in so long that you’d missed so much. 

For a few minutes, you and Quinn just basked in the feeling of being reunited with the person you loved. 

“Captain,” He eventually said aloud, stating it like he was feeling out the way the word felt in his mouth. Quinn eyed you, raising a brow.

“I like the way you take care of your team,” You admitted. You reached out and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around your finger. “Reminds me of how you take care of me.”

Quinn’s heart flipped in a funny way, something akin to heartbreak but so much warmer. “I love you so much,” He said, forcing the words out in a way that he hoped conveyed just how genuinely he felt them. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, and continued to play with his hair. You two sat there, on the couch in the presence of the other, until you lost track of time. Eventually, when you were blinking slowly and Quinn could feel your eyelashes beginning to flutter against his neck in a way that signaled your exhaustion, he picked you up and carried you to bed.

Always taking care of you.

note: ANOTHER MONDAY MORNING ONESHOT! I AM NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT ABOUT MONDAY MORNINGS! feeling like a fuckin pirate writing this captain shit (i love y'all and i looove reading captain kink fics (that one threesome between quinn and nico...) but i felt like a damn pirate! aye aye matey!) i'll stick to my daddy kink a-thank-yewwww also: game 4? in nash? holy shit! quinn's hair is so much darker in person and it looks so fluffy. he's pretty (and looks lost all the time) and also i never saw him make eye contact with anyone standing at the glass during warmups. also-also his tapejob on his socks was so weird? also also also: he was adjusting his gear literally every thirty seconds between whistles and no one else was– does your gear not fit, brother?

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[jensettermandu]

six feet under - yu jimin

genre; smut, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing; karina x g!p reader

content; despite the title there's no character death (it's just for metaphors) , unhealthy relationship; lack of communication , difficulty dealing with acceptance/reality , unintentionally hurting e/o , smut; p in v :D , unprotected sex , top karina/service bottom reader , oral (reader giving) , slight breast play , some praising

synopsis; it had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. it helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. to hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be.

wc; 15.6k+

masterlist.

It had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. It helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. To hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be. 

The silence could almost be dreading, it was so loud that it vibrated through their ribcage. It was so loud with their thoughts that they had no clue what to do. Love could be so many things, couldn’t it? It also meant that love got mistaken a lot of times too. It could make a bed feel comfortable, one they would always want to be at the end of every night, but it would always feel cold with spaces bigger than the ocean even if they were just an inch away. 

At times it felt like acknowledging the damage would only damage the rest of the world too if it was brought up. It was for everyone’s best and they could silently try to fix the damage with minimum casualties around them.

They both fell blind and only realised that they forgot to do something about it when they were dragged out of the daydreams and brought back to reality. The daydream that was the past was what made Y/n look away from her monitor once her eyes fell on the time at the bottom corner. She slipped the headphones off of her head, loose bangs falling over her forehead as they no longer were held back by the gear and she turned the chair around. Her eyes fell on the bed that was empty despite it being 0:30 AM. 

Routines changed, but they stayed. 

It had become a game of avoiding the other to not bring up the actual problems. Y/n indulged in her video games the whole day so they could avoid even looking at each other. She hadn’t spared Jimin a single glance but was now looking at the empty bed with sentiment filling her veins heavily. She deeply inhaled, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen to air out the sadness and hang on to the hope of stitching the torn back together. 

It was harder than it looked though when she had no clue how to put together a world that had been caught in a landslide and pulled them apart. It was all drifting apart, burning bridges they couldn’t stop imagining still existed. All they did was stand and look at it happening because there was nothing that they could do about these new feelings. 

She placed the headset onto the desk and reached over to the power button on the PC, her index finger coming in contact with it. Y/n pressed it and still deep in lamentful thoughts she held it for a while longer than needed before letting go. 

Just as she stood up the door opened and her tired eyes landed on Jimin whose gaze immediately was drawn to Y/n despite how far away they were. It was time to let go, but all that heaviness caused by the thoughts of finally mending their worlds and leaving the one they had built together in the past was hard to get rid of. There were so many reasons that told them to let go, but so many that told them to stay because of what once was their everything. 

“I just have to take a quick shower.” Jimin nodded at that as she stepped inside the room, leaving the door ajar as she knew what it meant. It was too cold to fall asleep beside each other on the bed, it was too uncertain of what they should do in the familiar sheets. It was easier to fall asleep alone, but it was difficult to sleep fully through the night if they weren’t both in bed at the same time. 

It had become a routine of leaving to let the other fall asleep before getting in bed too. The shower felt agonising, unsure if she had been in there long enough or if she should stay and continue to ponder. Everything around them still felt the same, but on the inside everything was different. Was it because of how suddenly it had happened? Was it because it was scary to let go of something that used to be all their comfort, scared that it was their only comfort after being it for so long? Was it because of how much they still had for each other? 

What if they got lost and became wanderers once they would let go of each other and would end up walking life without a goal to reach?

The shower felt like the only place where she could ponder now since it felt like it was too much to cry in front of each other. That would mean that they would have to talk about what was wrong and what they had to do, to do the things they weren’t ready for. The past felt so worth holding onto despite the feelings of the future never looking like they imagined. 

It was like every other time when Y/n walked back to the room, she quietly opened it, stepping inside the warmth and the comforting scent of Jimin that lingered in the air. Was it because all these things still brought her warmth and comfort? Her eyes landed on the bed that wasn’t empty this time, but would still feel cold once she settled in it. Never did they do it intentionally, but it had started happening at some point and there was nothing they could do to stop it. 

She couldn’t just not care, she always did and always would as she threw her black hoodie onto the backrest of the swivel chair she had been sitting in earlier. It merely made a sound when it landed on the chair and she walked a few small steps over to the edge of the bed where Jimin was lying. 

It had become a new routine to just stare at Jimin from a distance while trying to figure out what exactly was wrong between them. She had always adored the girl whether with words or just by looking at her from across a room, but this was different despite the adoration. This always made her eyes look a certain way, a way that whenever Jimin caught Y/n looking at her she could tell what she was thinking and Jimin found herself leaving to wipe away her tears. 

So Y/n was crouched down right by Jimin who was asleep on the bed, her head tilting as a small frown adorned her features in thought. The longer she thought the more it all felt like a pipe dream as her eyes lingered on the girl's soft features Y/n adored. The white duvet pulled up to her chin and the younger reached over to Jimin, gently grazing her fingers over the tender skin. Nothing about it had changed, it still felt as good as it always had under her fingertips. 

She pushed back some of the loose strands away from the sleeping girl’s face before she pulled her hand away fully, scared that she would wake her up, that Jimin would pull away from her touch, that they would both freeze and then go back to pretending. 

Y/n sighed at the feelings she couldn’t decipher anymore and her forehead rested on the edge of the bed for a few seconds as she closed her eyes tightly. Her fists clenched and so did her jaw to shut out everything, the landslide wiped away from her mind, the future too, the past stayed as she fished for the answers from the burning bridge. She was utterly confused, she was so lost in that field where everything had burned to the ground. 

Where did it all go? When did it all disappear?

She deeply inhaled and raised her head, shakily letting out her breath, doing it slowly to not wake Jimin up. Her fingers peeled at the cover, the small bear coming into view that Jimin was hugging–it was Y/n’s childhood plushie, but the comfort that it had held once had been transferred to Jimin. She had no clue if Jimin had transferred it further or if she still held onto it. It felt too cold at times, but they were still hanging on to the daydream.

“Goodnight, angel.” Her fists gripped onto the sheets as she left a ghost-like peck against Jimin’s soft cheek while standing up before climbing carefully over the girl to lie down by the wall. Y/n got under the duvet and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling that was empty while her head raced with thoughts that would make falling asleep so much harder. The itch to hold each other, but the fear of it not feeling the same anymore kept them at a distance and so the ache grew, but the silence didn’t dissipate. It was loud enough to mask the sounds of the heartbreak. 

Jimin heaved a sigh, her eyes opening in the silent room, knowing that Y/n was lying just behind her, but she wasn’t able to feel her. The simple peck, the brush of fingers against her skin, the goodnight, the innocent pet name; all made her eyes burn hot in the freezing weather that the room was in. It made her stiffen up her lower lip to try and keep them at bay, clutching the little bear harder, burying her nose into its brown fuzzy fur. 

Each time she blinked her eyes its fur soaked up the tears, being the only witness of them, the only thing wiping them for her, holding her sorrows inside its small frame. She was afraid that it would overfill soon enough, that the bear would turn salty and bitter from her tears, and that it wouldn’t want to give her any more comfort because of that. She longed, but they flew apart and she couldn’t figure out what exactly she longed for as Jimin felt just as lost and confused about everything as Y/n was. 

Was it all broken or just bent? She had no clue, Jimin didn’t even know what exactly it was that was wrong. Or maybe she knew just what was wrong, but pretended that she didn’t?

It echoed in Y/n’s head after the alarm had gone off around 6 AM and she had turned it off–their last rehearsal before they were off to Tokyo, Japan. What their mornings used to look like kept replaying in her head, the sounds of them like an echo of silence now because they no longer happened. There was no room filled with giggles despite it being early at dawn or noon. No words that were sweet affection were exchanged between them. There was no holding each other, hugging, kissing, and just being there with each other, close and content.

Neither could remember the last time they had said an ‘I love you’ to each other. 

It used to be always in the mornings, before bed and throughout the day. 

It made Y/n exhale while turning to lay on her back as they slept with their backs turned to each other. She tiredly stared at the ceiling unable not to look over at Jimin whose back was still turned to her, it was like a big ice wall fell and blocked them off. ‘It’s fine’ kept repeating itself in Y/n’s head as she pursed her lips and grabbed her phone to see that the time still flew and didn’t wait for them. It did not wait and they were wasting time away from each other when they could be making it meaningful. 

The footsteps outside were heard now and Y/n knew that they didn’t have more time to sit and wallow in their sorrows of holding onto something that wasn’t there. 

“We have to start getting up.” The girl mumbled just to make sure that the first alarm had managed to wake up Jimin. It did for Y/n because she hadn’t been able to fall into a deep slumber because of all the thoughts.

It was harsh, it was like a strong tornado carrying all types of feelings in it came through the room and cut through Y/n’s skin. “I know, Y/n.” The softness was gone and Y/n bit her lower lip because despite it all they hadn’t been like two snakes around each other, ready to bite and leave venom any second. They hadn’t tried to make it sting more than it already did, but it seemed impossible to do for too long. 

The younger still caught the sweet scent of Jimin that made the moment slightly less bitter, reminding her of all the good times when she’d be drowned in the scent. The duvet was thrown off of Jimin who got up from the bed, grabbing the hoodie from the chair on her way and all she left behind was a whirlwind of unspoken emotions after leaving the door ajar when she walked out. 

Y/n grabbed the little bear that fell beside her and stared at it, looking for answers in the tears she knew that Jimin was shedding every night. She pretended that she didn’t hear it, that she was asleep, that she simply didn’t know that she was making the girl cry. It was easier that way and in the morning she would look at the bear and still get no answers. She couldn’t acknowledge her silent cries because they would have to do something about everything if she did. 

Practice went as usual, almost as usual for the two of them. They both wondered if the rest had noticed their lack of communication and how they occupied themselves with the others to not make eye contact by accident. If they did notice, it wasn’t like any of them would comment on it since Y/n and Jimin’s relationship wasn’t their business. 

It didn’t even seem to be Jimin and Y/n’s business anymore as neither of them spoke about it. 

Still half panting, Y/n sat on the couch with Minjeong as the two got engulfed in the Nintendo 3DS Y/n had brought with her. There was an emptiness that she hadn’t been able to grow used to, she had become so used to having someone always right next to her for the past three years. It wasn’t constant clinging to each other, but even the small things such as brushing their legs or glancing at each other. The loss of that made a void grow bigger each second and the only thing that would fill it was if things went back to how they used to be.

It made Y/n wonder if Jimin felt the same and so she glanced away from the game, her eyes landing on her girlfriend. She was so used to it so she wasn’t sure if it was Jimin specifically or just a habit that was hard to let go of now, all that affection. The girl was busy talking to Aeri and no matter what they were doing someone’s back was always turned to the other. Y/n’s hoodie-clad the girl’s upper body and Y/n tilted her head, thinking about how maybe that was what brought Jimin the comfort of having someone next to her, just the warmth and scent. 

Their confusion about the situation was what made it hard for them to get back to the intimacy they used to share.

The door opened and Ning walked in with their manager, catching everyone’s attention as it got noisier when they started to all converse while making it to the couch. However, Y/n looked back down at the 3DS to occupy her eyes with something for a few more seconds to not try to figure out where Jimin would sit this time. 

Aeri was about to sit on the wooden floor, her eyes seeing the lone spot left beside Y/n as Ning was already on the floor by Minjeong’s legs with her drink and one of the pastries. Jimin made sure to insist that she could take the spot, but it still left her in an awkward spot on the floor by Y/n’s legs. Her shoulder brushed against them, bumping into each other constantly and she couldn’t bring herself to sit still, especially not when all the emotions were bubbling inside her. 

She couldn’t remember being this emotional before. 

How else was she supposed to be when everything felt out of control and she had no clue what to do? There was nothing she could do no matter how hard she tried to catch everything only for it to slip right through her fingers. 

Jimin wanted to cry when she took a sip of her drink and something just had to top it all off when her order seemed nothing but wrong. Everything in her life was crumbling, she was in pure distress and despair. However, things only could get worse–they had yet to reach the bottom–and not better because among the cold there was always a warmth as she tried to stop the pout on her lips while staring at her drink. 

Jimin felt like a puddle of water in the middle of the road, no one appreciated them and walked around them and all they did was harbour filth; filth being these feelings that only grew bigger, the mess of a puddle becoming bigger too. 

She looked up at the hand that took her drink, her glossy eyes meeting Y/n’s for a split second. 

The younger felt a heat shoot through her body, it was as if she broke a limb at the pain that she felt seeing Jimin actually harbour these tears and not just cry at night when she thought that Y/n was asleep. It hurt her chest, she cared about Jimin, and she knew that she always would because before she became her lover she was her best friend and member. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. Y/n had no clue who she lost in this silent war they were stuck in. 

Was she losing a lover? A best friend? A member?

“You can have mine.” Y/n knew her, Jimin hated it because it made everything even harder and Y/n could see the way the tears grew as quickly as a high tide in the girl’s eyes. She looked hurt, she was hurting, they were hurting, but they continued to do so without saying anything. Why could Y/n tell from a certain pout that Jimin wasn’t satisfied with her food or drink? Why did they have to be so caring for each other? It made cold things warm and they had no clue why things were cold to begin with.

They didn’t want to lose it.

She took the iced green tea she knew that Y/n loved and the younger took her drink. All it took was a sip of it and it all got overwhelming once again because the thoughts didn’t stop crashing inside of her head, exploding and occupying every corner of her mind. It made her wonder if Y/n was busy thinking the same things throughout her whole day too and the thought of being the only one to do so hurt immensely. 

“I will be back–restroom.”

The girls hummed, going back to what they were doing as Jimin excused herself, leaving everything behind her and she wished she could do that with the reality that she didn’t want to live in. It was haunting her. 

She missed the days when her biggest worries in a relationship were that the promised forever wouldn’t be long enough and not that everything had possibly dropped dead like flies around them, that the forever would never happen. It was a painfully slow dance in a burning room that neither of them left just to see if they could still survive once everything had crumbled fully and the smoke had filled their lungs.

Y/n knew that letting time pass would be too painful to sit through. Nothing was waiting for them. Even if it meant a bigger gap, she gave her 3DS to Minjeong who continued on the game while Y/n had become a pawn in a game no one was controlling. It was a game of chaos no one could cultivate anything out of, no order, no logic, no helpful solutions. This was a game of walking a thin line of nothing and everything. 

It was too tiring, walking inside the bathroom felt like getting locked in the confines of a place where no one would ever find her, no one would see her. No one would see if Jimin broke down in the bathroom and it made relief wash over her and the tears spilled like a broken dam. That was all it took and she tried to calm down, but it wasn’t possible as she turned on the faucet, letting it run to drown out her snivels and deep breaths. 

It was exhausting to be crying almost every day, she didn’t know what sleep was anymore and all she lived for was sorrow, she lived to continue hurting. 

Why did they make something simple so complicated? Love was what made it complicated. 

She used the pads of her palms and wiped at her eyes while tilting her head back and letting out a shaky breath. It felt like there was no calming down from this and each second only made it worse. The silence despite the running water, the echoes in the tiled bathroom, and the stalls empty. 

Jimin could still remember all the other times she had been crying in the same bathroom when everything felt like it was all for nothing because she couldn’t feel fulfilment despite her achievements. She could remember the way her girlfriend would end up in the same bathroom, coaxing it all out of her, taking all her burdens and carrying them for her. Could Y/n do the same thing now when they both were in the same shoes?

Everything reminded her of Y/n except Y/n herself. They both felt distant and like different people. 

Even the light knock on the door was familiar and she took in a shuddering breath, turning to look at Y/n when she opened the door. It fell closed right after, her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, restricting herself from all those instincts that always kicked in. Her eyes followed the hesitance that was clear in Jimin’s body that pulled to Y/n, but with so much trouble as she held the sleeve of the hoodie against her trembling lips. 

“Come on,” Y/n mumbled, knowing that it was all that was needed to get the girl to just break down fully. “It’s okay to not be okay,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders who shook in her arms. The hot tears were burning against her pale skin, wetting her neck, trailing down and spilling like they never had before. Her cheek rested against the side of Jimin’s head, pulling her closer to her body, into her warmth because it was all still the same, but it felt different. 

What was it that exactly wasn’t okay? It wasn’t just them themselves, but them together and it ended up making both of them not feel okay. 

Jimin tightly wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, crying into her neck. She got pulled closer, her head being cradled by Y/n’s hand. All of it made it impossible to hold the walls up, the ones that were supposed to show that she wasn’t as bothered by it as she truly was. In reality, Jimin could barely breathe through it without falling into a panic attack. Hearing Y/n’s words, and hearing that it was okay made it so much easier to let it all out, especially when she was with the girl and held by her. 

The reassurance that it was okay to cry about the landslide made it easier. Y/n recognised the burdens and Jimin wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry for how I took it out on you in the morning.” Y/n only hummed, holding her close as Jimin had been a rose with its thorns aimed at Y/n since they woke up. From the harsh words to the ways she blatantly shut her out even when it was a small question not to her girlfriend but to the leader of Aespa. Jimin was scared and it was affecting her role as a leader too, as a member of the group. The fear was consuming her life fully and was getting in the way of everything. 

“I’m just so tired and I can barely sleep at night.” Or maybe she could sleep just fine but chose to cry at night instead of closing her eyes. She woke up more tired each day, every little second got more exhausting than the other. 

“I know, I’m sorry for all of this.” The younger knew all about it, but what she didn’t know was what exactly she was apologising for. Y/n knew that Jimin was crying at night because of what was happening between them, but she knew that it wasn’t her fault or Jimin’s. It was natural, it would have happened at some point, right? Y/n inhaled, closing her eyes because it hurt her, but seeing how much it affected Jimin made it hurt so much more and it made everything more complicated. 

“We can’t keep going without knowing where it’s all heading. I’m confused and–” Y/n stopped her before they got too deep into the truth because neither of them was ready to let go just yet, neither wanted to end it just yet. They needed some more time, some more time to find more than just one option to end their pain. There always was more than one choice. 

She pulled away from Jimin, her upper body lingered with the warmth that the shorter girl left after her. Jimin gripped at Y/n’s sweater, knowing that once they let go they would be apart for what would feel like years again. The void between them would become even bigger than it already was and they would avoid it for much longer. 

“I care about you, nothing will change that and it’s all fine, Jimin.” She held her face cupped in her hands, tears hitting her skin as the girl looked up at her with quivering eyes. They knew that these false paintings of their relationship would make them feel better for now. Not in the long run, but they tried to live in the present–it didn’t matter if they reminisced and avoided the problems of the present. 

Jimin blinked her eyes, trying her best to run into the daydream, trying to escape reality. Her eyes closed, hoping that she would be thrown into her daydream as Y/n kissed her forehead. 

She missed the pretty sunset sky, the fireworks, the green grass, the clouds that came in different shapes and would be fluffy. It was like a childish dream and possibly some people had been right when they said that young love was complicated. It wasn’t like they cared, they had always felt like teenagers in love with each other. 

Why wasn’t it working though? Where did it all go? It no longer felt like a daydream. It no longer felt like it used to do. 

It was so difficult to grasp something that physically wasn’t there, neither of them could grasp it, at the feelings. Love was so beautifully painful the way it painted them with all these different colours. The canvas would always be filled with them and to the eye it would always be beautiful but to the souls that served as the canvas it would always be heaven and hell. Among white there was blue, among blue there was green, among green there was red and it went on. 

The daydream was constantly corrupted by the harsh reality. 

It was like walking a tightrope.

The smallest mistakes felt deadly.

The stupidest mistakes.

It would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that there was so much on the line. 

It was part of the social culture and Y/n had happened to fall victim to it because a few cigarettes had turned into a pack or two a week. What were her reasons? Probably all that went on in her hectic life, but it hadn’t been easy to sneak around with an addiction. It got especially hard when the dorm arrangements changed because she and Jimin got together. 

Y/n had managed to sneak around for a whole two months. All it took was one week of sharing a room with Jimin who gave up on pretending that she didn’t notice the lingering smell of tobacco on Y/n and slowly herself. 

‘Fine, I will quit for you.’

‘Not for me. For yourself and your health.’

‘Doing it for you makes it easier.’

‘Only if you don’t start doing it again. It will hurt to think that doing it for me wasn’t enough.’

‘I promise.’

Even the simplest promises were being broken. It felt all the more hopeless.

It was hard, to say the least with starting to dose down on how much she smoked until it was nothing at all. Y/n had never thought of herself as someone who grew addicted easily, but nicotine turned out to be a bitch and even a year and a half after quitting the cravings came back. There were certain times when they were extra tempting, it made her irritated and restless. It was times like these that she always had her substitutes for them, from nicotine patches to nicotine gum or simply Jimin. 

This time it felt like Jimin was the cause of the cravings. 

The world around them no longer felt real because of how they had surrounded themselves in a fake reality. 

“Did you slam the door in my face?” Venom, that was what Jimin spat out, pure venom behind her words as she locked the door to the green room. The rest were out and talking to their label mates, but it was better to make sure they didn’t walk in if they came back earlier. The last thing Jimin or Y/n wanted was for the rest to notice that everything around them was crumbling, that it had all become a smoke screen. 

Y/n inhaled deeply, rummaging through her stuff, ignoring the clatter as she was on the brink of losing it. “I didn’t and if I did, it wasn’t intentionally. I had no fucking clue you were behind me.” It was a low mutter, but it was just as poisonous as Jimin’s tone which had been louder. At the back of her head, Y/n had been expecting Jimin to be right behind her, she was the whole reason why she was buzzing with cravings. 

“You slammed it in my face and an apology wouldn’t hurt you, Y/n.” Jimin had no clue why she was letting it drag on. She could have dropped it, she was aware that Y/n didn’t know and even if she did, Jimin knew she deserved ten more doors slammed closed in her face. 

“You want me to apologise?” Y/n snapped that easily and it had never happened between the two of them–the cravings only made it worse together with the tension of constantly being on their guard not to let anything slip past them. 

They never really fought to begin with. All those small fights that never meant anything, that never held any real frustrations, it was different now. Those pent-up emotions came out and spilled right over the head of the other. Y/n wanted to throw it at Jimin because her girlfriend had been doing it since they landed in Tokyo. They were being petty for the sake of being it and not for any good causes. Y/n tossed the stuff onto the table, ignoring the even louder clatter of the things and continued to look through her stuff. 

“Called manners.” She commented. It was like she knew that something so simple would irk Y/n more than she already was, especially in this state.

“Oh, so Karina wants to talk manners.” Y/n huffed and turned around, leaning back against the table. Her arms crossed as she gripped onto her arms, hiding the tremor in her fingers as the anger and everything else was overwhelming. She hated fighting with the girl, but it felt inevitable when they were alone in the room with so much tension already lingering between them. 

The past couple of fights they’ve had been nothing but hurtful with no apologies after, pretending it never happened to begin with. 

Jimin’s eyes squinted at the words, Y/n barely called her by her stage name even when they were on stage. Hearing her bring it up was enough to let her know what Y/n was pointing at.

Jimin was falling under the pressure of juggling work and a relationship she could no longer figure out. It had never been a problem for them, but she felt like she had failed her role in the group by letting personal conflicts get in the way. 

Nonetheless, it would be impossible to admit to now when they were in an argument that grew by the second. 

“Don’t comment on my work ethic when you barely have yours under control. You’re being sensitive.” She argued, knowing very well that she had been letting her complex emotions and confusion about where she and Y/n were heading get in the way of her professionalism. 

“You’re the one crying over a door.” Y/n scoffed in disbelief, pointing at the door in question that was behind Jimin. The girl pulled on the strings of her hoodie in frustration at Y/n’s words. It only fueled her on, she couldn’t remember being able to get this angry with Y/n before, she had never thought that she could get angry with her. Or maybe it wasn’t anger that she felt towards Y/n, but just frustration because of how confusing their relationship had turned. How dead it was. 

Maybe she was angry at herself, at the world, or at how confusing love could be. She was angry at the fact that they let it die to begin with. 

“Because you slammed it in my face!” This time she let her voice fly way above what she imagined she would, her foot stomping down in frustration. The tears welled up in her eyes so easily, that constant haunting fragile mentality as everything was hurting and it didn’t let her breathe. 

“Because you are doing a shit job at being a leader!” Y/n watched Jimin pace around, watching how desperately she tried to get rid of her tears. Those tears of frustration, not knowing how else to take it out she yelled at Y/n and cried, but there was only so much that could cover her tears now. 

“Don’t comment on my work ethic, Y/n.” She repeated and found herself in front of Y/n, it almost felt dangerous to be so close to each other at a moment like this. It was scary because they had never had these fights and being so close to what used to be just comfort felt wrong, it felt wrong to bring these feelings into their safety net.

It ruined their purpose, the place they went to when they wanted to escape these feelings, the pressure, the world. It was all truly gone, wasn’t it?

She could feel it all spiral, leaving them with no control over what happened between them in the room.

“Someone has to when you forget how to separate relationships from work. Be a fucking leader and answer a fucking question instead of shutting me out because of our personal life.”

“It’s not easy when this is what it looks like!” She threw her arms, motioning to the mess they were together, the one they both had been avoiding because of how complicated it was. It was hard not to notice, but impossible to truly acknowledge and so it all mixed into everything else.  

“Nothing is ever easy for you, is it? That’s why I always become your punching bag when things go wrong.” The words left Y/n bitterly, her hands gripping onto the table behind her as she exhaled these deep breaths that helped with nothing. Watching Jimin with tears in her eyes wasn’t helping, but Y/n felt like the girl had been trampling all over her. She was using her title as a leader and girlfriend in a nonchalant way, she was neglecting Y/n as a member and not a lover. 

“That’s not true and you know it.” Jimin knew that it was all true, her tone faltering as she would feel even more guilty if she raised her voice to spit out lies. It hurt too much to say the truth of the situation. 

“It has been even more true lately,” Y/n muttered, her eyes leaving Jimin’s. 

It felt like the woman in front of her was trying to coax her into forgiving her without Jimin having to apologise. Y/n was done doing those things. She couldn’t put it all aside like all the other times when she accepted Jimin’s apologies she never even said. The ones where Y/n blatantly admitted to being wrong even when she wasn’t because she didn’t want to fight or see Jimin cry.

“Because–because—” Now came the difficult part for Jimin who had no good excuse for this and she knew that she was wrong. The problem bigger than this one was her pride and ego, they got in the way, especially now after how tense everything has been.  

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing is changing.” It made Jimin’s heart drop, Y/n’s stomach twisting at her own words that she never wanted to say. It was what it felt like though. 

She gently grabbed Jimin’s shoulder to have her step aside as she stood up to walk out the door. 

“Don’t say that.” A quiver fell from between her lips, a lump in Jimin’s throat that cut deep and made it all bleed much worse than it already was. Her hand grabbed Y/n’s to have her stay because, in the end, she didn’t want her lover to leave, not just yet and she quickly stopped in front of Y/n. She would never accept those words, not now at least because hearing them made her lightheaded, it made her chest clench and she wanted to collapse onto the floor to be swallowed before she could feel more pain.

“Where’s our manager? I need her to buy cig–”

“You’re not smoking just because things go wrong for us!” It wasn’t possible to speak with a quivering voice, it was too soft so she raised her voice again. She still cared about Y/n as a member, friend, lover and person, it didn’t matter what was going on between them. Jimin would always care about Y/n. Her hand bunched up the material of Y/n’s shirt in her hand as to keep the girl from leaving her. She refused to let go, in the end, she wasn’t supposed to want anything else but Y/n and even if her feelings were different she clung to that idea. 

That there was only one person for the both of them.

“Is this something else you want to cry about!? You didn’t bring my shit with you because you’re being petty and expect me to break habits.” It had become a habit, Jimin had become someone Y/n relied on with most of her things. If Jimin had been packing certain things for her it had become a habit that she would do it every time and it never crossed Y/n’s mind to do it herself anymore. 

It had never bothered Jimin either and now it was doing nothing but pissing both of them off. Those flaws they had accepted and learned to love before were nothing but a hassle to deal with now and they wanted the other to erase them and change. To change so they could learn to love these new people they would become.

“If you said that you quit for me then fucking keep the promise or will you break them all just because it isn’t working out for us at the moment? And I’m not your mother, Y/n, why do you rely on me packing your fucking things!” She shoved Y/n by the shoulder, wanting to get her away from her even for a split second because she was boiling over with emotions. It would never end well no matter who they were fighting with when there were too many emotions.

Jimin felt conflicted at her own pushing and pulling as she one second wanted no one but Y/n and the other second she couldn’t stand the girl.

“Everything I did for you feels like a waste at the moment when all you give me is headaches, Jimin.” Y/n’s voice was rough and loud, ignoring that they had more performances tomorrow. Jimin could feel the vibrations in her ribcage and she harshly wiped away the tears. It felt like Y/n didn’t deserve her tears at this exact moment, not after those words. She snivelled, still unable to stop them though because how couldn’t she cry when this was what they were now?

They continuously watched what they used to be washed away with each wave that clashed with their shore and dragged away the good to leave filth behind instead.

“I fucking regret even giving you an ounce of my time and life because you’re nothing but a pain to look after. You don’t get to be angry at me because I had to worry about not forgetting my stuff and yours on top of everything!” She couldn’t help but feel like all the blame was now coming her way and maybe she had let Y/n get too comfortable. Jimin couldn’t help it then, but the longer it went on the more she realised that it wouldn’t work that way. 

“You’re like a manchild for fuck’s sake.” Jimin groaned out as it continued to dawn upon her how much of an immature child Y/n could be. Had she been blind all this time? Why did she suddenly mind it? Why were these words even leaving her mouth when she had always loved and accepted Y/n for the person that she was? Were they just looking for reasons to make it all stop? 

“You made it a habit and I stuck to it. Suck it up the same way I have to suck up when I’m your punching bag whenever things don’t go your way.” Y/n couldn’t help but truly realise how much she always let Jimin get away with. The things she would say, the things she would do that hurt, Y/n always forgave her for every little thing because Jimin could do no wrong in her eyes. Jimin was spiralling right now because Y/n hadn’t forgiven her yet for how she had been pushing the younger girl around for the past few days as a member of the same group.

Here she was, still letting the woman in front of her shove her around and blame her for her own mistakes. The way she always forgave Jimin within seconds when she saw tears in her eyes even if Jimin was in the wrong. Y/n felt played by the older now as she realised how their dynamic had worked. 

Y/n would always be the one to take the blame even when it wasn’t hers to take. 

Jimin would always be the one to suffer from how much she took on herself willingly because Y/n couldn’t do it.

“You were playing video games instead of packing even after you saw how stressed I was with my stuff. You got upset over your motion sickness patches, your headphones, fucking lenses and now your gum. I’m fucking surprised you packed your clothes!” 

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t even enter the room without you getting pissed off because I would breathe. I’m not the one being immature but you, Jimin. You are the one who mixed our relationship into work, you’re the one who isn’t professional–” The older girl could feel herself boil over with anger with each point that Y/n made, each word pushing her closer to the edge. She felt like the points Y/n made were being invalidated, Y/n had yet to accept it for what it was and Jimin hated having the truth about herself being pointed out this way. 

“–the one to force habits and then thinking you can just switch them up within a second because you suddenly don’t like what you wanted. Not the whole world revolves around you, but you’ve been too fucking selfish lately to realise it.” Despite all the coldness between them and all that seemed gone, they hung on because every day small things happened that gave them hope–small gestures were enough and they were brought back to the past. It felt as if Jimin hadn’t been trying to work towards each other, but away from each other. “I’m always looking out for you and caring for you.”

Jimin was simply too scared to move anywhere at all because it felt like the smallest mistake would make what was left fall apart fully. She felt paralysed by how scared she was of the truth. It was like having bricks constantly pile on her chest, it was difficult to breathe with them there, and it was difficult to move with them there. The girl felt like she was chained to the pits of hell while staring up at heaven in hopes of it coming down to her. 

What it ended with was it looked like she was selfish for being too scared to move, as if she wanted the world to revolve around her. And maybe if it did it would make everything easier for her. 

“Go fuck yourself Y/n and stop trying to make yourself look like a hero when you make as many mistakes as I do.” Jimin scoffed and wiped at her eyes as she pushed past Y/n, they both felt completely neglected and invalidated by the other. The reality of what it always has been wasn’t easy to swallow because it had never bothered them until now. She was aware that she made mistakes, but Y/n made them too and couldn’t claim the title of a hero when they did as much caring as they did hurting.

Y/n turned on her heels as Jimin pushed past her, she could see the anger, despair and distress clouding her. It was like a grey cloud over their heads, constantly being there for them when they didn’t want it. “It doesn’t excuse your mistakes either and considering my girlfriend won’t do it, yeah, I will ‘cause she’s too busy being stuck up.” Y/n could tell that the last of her words were too much, that they were too disrespectful and insensitive, and that she shouldn’t even be thinking about it right now. Maybe Jimin was right about being nothing but a ‘manchild’. 

Y/n truly felt the consequences of her words when Jimin felt them dig deep into her heart and it was enough to throw everything else out. It was just for a second and she knew she could regret it and feel guilty about it later. The stinging on her palm would subside, but feeling disrespected by Y/n for the first time in her life would linger far longer as she turned back around and landed it across the younger’s cheek. 

“You’re an immature fucking child, Y/n. I’m not just for your pleasure and needs, so fucking respect me.” She spat out, holding onto the girl’s shirt with her stinging hand as it all shut Y/n up. The two were able to very clearly see through each other like glass, it wasn’t even like glass, but air from how clear it was and all they could see was pain and hurt. They caused each other pain and hurt and everything else they used to make each other feel was gone—but then came those moments where it wasn’t gone even if it was for a second and so they held on.

They both felt horrible as Jimin grabbed her things while wiping her tears, not sparing Y/n more glances. All she knew was that she needed to cry to let it all subside for even a bit. Y/n slumped down on the couch, the nicotine cravings slapped out of her. She held her cold palm against her cheek trying to ease the pulsating pain she knew she deserved and Jimin did too as they both were suffering for keeping each other chained down. 

Maybe they had never been perfect, to begin with.

Were all these things stuff they had always wanted to say and they now took the opportunity to do so since everything was already falling apart? Did they hold back on saying these things before because they were scared that they would ruin everything? Or were these things something that should have been brought up a long time ago to make it work out? 

They couldn’t answer that. No one could because it was too late.

Jimin had known that she would feel bad after, that the guilt would eat at her. She was terrified that their relationship had taken a new step forward, towards a goal they didn’t want to reach when Y/n slept in Minjeong’s hotel room. The two peers–in age–were close in the end and so Jimin spent the night tossing and turning wondering if the truth would come out now. That their love was under ruins, crushed and bleeding to death, setting the truth in stone and burying what they used to have six feet under to start a new life. 

She wondered if Y/n spent the whole night awake. Jimin could barely fall asleep knowing they were in the same bed, but with their backs turned to each other, let alone after what happened. She could barely sleep because of how her insides twisted in hopes of escaping to get away from the excruciating pain. The part of them being away after what went down only made her even more anxious. 

The girl got her answers the next day when Y/n was tired and Minjeong went on about her day without a single knowing glance or word. 

They had avoided each other unless they were on stage, but the second they came off it was back to normal. The new normal, they both missed the old normal but they seemingly couldn’t go back to it. 

Or so they thought because once again all that they had been missing poured over them like a rainstorm. 

The simple idea for all of them to go out and eat after the days of performing. There had been an undoubtful tension between the two and not for the same reason they would like to think. It felt horrible to sit beside each other without having apologised for what had happened. However, the longer they sat at the table the closer they seemed to get, but it could have been the alcohol in their veins. 

“I swear, it’s the first time these two aren’t all over each other.” 

Y/n felt a slight heat shoot through her, one of anxiety at Ning’s drunken words because now everyone seemed aware of the situation. It could have been the fact that they dared to speak up about it when they were drunk. Y/n didn’t know what it was, but she toyed with one of the side dishes, knowing that she and Jimin always got more affectionate when they were drunk.

“Tired, that’s all…” Y/n mumbled, trailing off as she looked over at Jimin who sat right beside her–the rest continuing the chatter. The two had been coming closer and closer with each shot of soju and every beer they finished. They could feel the other's heat on them, craving each other in this state no matter what had happened between them for the past months. They craved the affection of the other so much that it hurt, it was boiling from the inside and they were waiting for the other to cave in so they could be close. 

She watched for a second more as Jimin struggled with the marinated perilla leaf, lip between her teeth as she gently swayed, going over her limit this time. Y/n would always be the one to cave in for the older girl. Jimin rarely drank more than she could handle and even that was a lot, but Y/n could tell she was trying to drown herself further. The older woman was already drowning in all her emotions and trying to drown them in alcohol only intensified it all and Jimin felt like she would burst any second and start begging in front of everyone else. 

Y/n turned in her seat the slightest, her attention on the woman who was still the most beautiful one she had ever seen. The one she desired, but it was all so different no matter how beautiful they both were to each other. Her right hand reached over to Jimin, brushing the hair behind her ear and reaching with her left for the leaf. 

Eyes were glossed over, like polished glass from alcohol when Jimin finally looked up and Y/n picked up the leaf, her hand still holding back the hair so it wouldn’t get in the way. 

It was crushing both of them. Jimin felt her world brighten up with hope that had no space in their world anymore, but she wasn’t letting go yet. Y/n fed her with eyes gazing over Jimin’s features, feeling excruciating pain at the fact that she had made her cry, at the fact that they kept hurting each other unintentionally by holding on. It was worth it when these moments still managed to slip through the cracks and let in some light. 

Y/n let go of the latter's hair and wrapped her arm around Jimin’s waist when she leaned into her, resting her weight on Y/n’s side. Her hands found Y/n’s warmth as they pushed under the girl's loose sweater, doing all the holding on that she could. 

“I miss you.” They were sentimental words as Jimin gently whispered, her breath brushing over Y/n’s neck and the younger girl pulled her closer. Y/n took in a deep breath at how homesick she felt for a home she no longer had. They missed each other, they missed what they used to have, but no longer did and it dug into their hearts with no care, tearing them into pieces at how messy it felt. 

“I miss you–miss us,” Y/n mumbled, their world shutting the rest out, inhaling the smog-filled air of everything that had burned down to ashes. Jimin hummed as her eyes closed, hoping that the drunk sentiment would be able to suffice for now even if it was for just one night. All they needed was one night to figure it out, to get to feel what they missed and see if they could bring it all back to life. She felt Y/n’s soft lips press against her head and she nuzzled her face further into the scent that used to be a home and now was only what was left of one.

Her lips gently pressed over Y/n’s skin, her nails gently scratching over Y/n’s back as she moved her other hand up. She cupped the younger’s face, thumb caressing the porcelain-like skin she deeply regretted putting her hand on but she couldn’t regret it when she thought back on what they said to each other. Jimin deserved to suffer for her actions and Y/n deserved to suffer just as much. They would continue until they did the necessary.

Y/n got her head tilted down and looked at Jimin who rested her head against the younger’s shoulder. Her eyes pleaded for a remedy for all the heartbreak even if it was for just one night. To just get away from reality for a few hours. Her fingers brushed over Y/n’s cheek. Y/n gave a small nod and reached over for the beer she had left, finishing it and hoping it would all last long enough and not end the way it did a few days ago. 

“Will you guys mind if we leave early?” The girl asked, but it was already set in stone as she grabbed her jacket and helped Jimin up. They looked over at the two who were closer to each other than they had been for the past few months as Y/n put her jacket over Jimin. 

“Not at all,” Aeri replied, the rest humming in agreement.

It was a short walk to the hotel, wrapped up in each other the whole way and not letting go for a second as they walked in silence, scared to let go or say something that would make it difficult to be this way again. 

They at last did let go as they walked inside the hotel room, but it all shifted for a second as Y/n kicked off her shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed. There was no escaping this landslide, the clash that destroyed so much as she missed what she used to have with Jimin, but had no clue if they could get that back. It tied knots around her heart and tugged on it constantly. 

The latter managed to get her shoes off, the jacket falling after her as she walked over to Y/n. Despite the slight blur, she could see clearly through everything else and now was the only time she knew she could apologise. 

It used to be easier. 

“Y/n…” 

The girl took a deep breath and looked away from her hands and at Jimin who kneeled beside her. Her chin rested against Y/n’s thigh as she stared up at her girlfriend, her lower lip slightly jutted out. The younger one hummed, her hand running through Jimin’s hair as she caressed her scalp gently, missing the touch of someone else. The back of her fingers trailed over Jimin’s cold cheek who grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

The silence braced them as they stared at each other, heads tilting, ears filling with the heavy yet soft breaths from alcohol-filled veins, the buzz of the outside world only faint. That silence of acceptance of what their love was, what it used to be and how it no longer was. 

Jimin heaved a sigh and rested her cheek against Y/n’s thigh, staring off into the dimly lit hotel room. The sentiment of sorrow, sadness and nostalgia as everything had become too farro reach now and it would be hard to save anything. If they could continue to pretend then everything would go back to being fine. If they lived a lie long enough, it would become their reality. 

“I’m sorry about the other day—” She mumbled, slumped on the floor and her gaze moved as she tilted her head to look Y/n in the eye. Their eyes connected, filled with the buzz of alcohol, and the perception of the fake reality they had created in their head washed over them. Those small gestures that made hope wash over them wouldn’t change anything, would they? They didn’t want to think about it. “I shouldn’t have raised my hand,” her lips momentarily formed into a pout at the disdain she felt for her actions.

Jimin knew there was no excuse for it even if she felt like an emotional wreck. They were losing control and it was starting to deeply affect them. They were going full speed through crossings with no hands on the wheels, covering their eyes to not look at the truth and soon enough they would crash right into a wall. 

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Y/n always let Jimin get away with everything and nothing would probably ever change that.

Jimin shook her head, lifting it from Y/n’s thigh as she got up to stand on her two feet. Y/n’s fingers tangled into the sweatshirt the girl had on as she stood between her legs. Despite the slight tremors in Jimin’s fingers, buzzing with more than just alcohol, but also a surge of feelings, the uncertainty, longing, feelings of loss and hope; she cupped Y/n’s face in her hands. Her touch was soft as Y/n’s glimmering eyes met her.

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did either.” Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes and resting in Jmin’s hands who caressed her features with her thumbs. They still would always melt at the affection because it was normal to crave, but it didn’t feel like it used to. Aside from it feeling good, those other things didn’t spread across them. “I’m sorry.” 

That sorry felt like it was for more than what happened in that room and Jimin knew it. She knew that the apology was because they both genuinely felt bad for letting a promise of forever die. 

‘I love you.’

‘Never stop loving me, Y/n.’

‘I will love you forever, I promise.’

‘I will love you forever, Y/n, I will always care about you.’

‘Don’t cry, Jimin, I’m always here for you.’

Jimin deeply exhaled and closed her eyes before she could let the tears even form and with a lump in her throat she closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a kiss to suckle on the hope left in them. It was eagerness, it was to forget and not to remember. Y/n’s hands grabbed hold of Jimin’s hips, pulling her closer.

They tilted their heads to meet tongues that tasted as bitter as the beer they had and the longing for what they had lost, as sweet as the sake they downed and the reverie they lived in. It was with desperation because it felt like it was the last of them that was left and they would do everything to latch onto it and stick forever. The forever they had promised. 

Jimin ran her fingers through Y/n’s hair, pushing deeper, wanting to feel more, she needed more. She needed Y/n, she missed the touch against her body and that was all that it felt like for them now. The fulfilment of each other’s needs and nothing else as Jimin discarded Y/n’s sweater, letting it fall to the floor. Her cool hands ran over the warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, emotions swirling under their skin as they pulled away to remove Jimin’s top. 

Their eyes locked, looking for something, searching, but they had no clue what they were trying to find anymore. It ended quicker than expected and their lips met once again, meeting tongues and letting out desperate sounds. Y/n’s fingertips grazed over Jimin’s skin as if the girl was made of gold, the gentle and careful touch making the latter bubble with more need. She ran them over her sides, tracing every ridge, coming to her spine with one hand as the other slid over her ribs until she reached the hem of Jimin’s jeans. 

With ease she undid them and as they fell to the floor the older girl straddled Y/n who huffed at the weight that pressed down against her growing cock. As Jimin looked Y/n in the eye, the girl reached over to her face, brushing away the black strands of hair. She could still see a sparkle in Y/n’s eyes, but it was flickering. It wasn’t there for the same reasons that it used to sparkle. This was for the lust that would always linger inside their veins.

“Make me feel good, you owe me this,” Jimin mumbled, knowing that they both owed each other this for the things they had been putting the other through for the past months. This was finally their chance to make the other feel good in a way that was more than just sentimental. There was no sentiment in lust because it had never been part of it, but now it ruled them. 

She grabbed Y/n’s hand which was still by her face and captured those sweet lips while guiding the hand to the back of her bra. Jimin trailed her kisses away from Y/n’s lips and along her jawline, slowly going further and nuzzling her nose into her neck. The scent was still one of her favourites. She took it in and ran her tongue over the skin before wrapping her lips around it. 

It made Y/n stall with the bra, a faint whimper falling from between her lips as Jimin slowly started to gyrate her hips, rolling her heat against Y/n’s that was straining against her jeans. “I want your lips on me Y/n.” She breathed out against the red mark, wanting to feel the pleasure, they both wanted to be brought out of this hell they had painted as heaven. This was their chance. 

Y/n bit her lower lip, her neck being plated with kisses by Jimin all while the girl continued to press against her cock, grinding slowly while releasing shaky breaths between kisses. The girl managed to undo the bra and only then did her girlfriend pull away, letting Y/n remove it fully whose eyes focused on her chest right away. Jimin’s words hadn’t fallen deaf to her ears and all she wanted was to give the girl exactly what she wanted. This was the only thing that they could make work. 

“I love every inch of you.” Any other time the words would burn within Jimin’s soul and leave their mark and they had done so permanently, but they no longer reached as deep. They were all for the outside as they had changed from the inside towards each other. 

Her fingers tangled at the back of Y/n’s head, gently making her look her in the eye as she tilted her head. “Show me instead.” It was like a whisper, her lips ghosting Y/n’s, knowing that she would be able to feel more from actions rather than words now. 

Y/n manoeuvred them, laying Jimin down on the bed, legs wrapped around her waist as she stood by the edge of the bed. The girl bunched up the duvet beside Jimin’s head, taking one last look at her chest before she leaned down to show how much she appreciated her body. With fingers tangled in her hair and nails scratching her scalp Y/n started to leave scorching kisses along Jimin’s skin.

Her tongue soothed over the pulse, tenderly kissing down, her kisses tickling as she trailed down, taking in the soft hums and breaths that the girl let out. She came down to her collarbones, grazing her teeth over them, leaving her marks after her as those were the only good ones they managed to leave on each other now. Everything that went deeper hurt. 

A faint gasp left Jimin’s mouth when lips fervently latched onto her chest, all the heat running through her body and shooting straight to her aching clit. “Fuck,” was all that she could mutter at the warm tongue playing with her nipple, sucking on the tender flesh. Y/n’s devotion to what was left of them was shown through the way she consumed her flesh, leaving her bites to linger.

Y/n moved her mouth to the other nipple, her hand coming down to fondle the older’s chest. It was enough for more sounds to start coming from Jimin at the way her nipples were being played with and her chest littered with kisses. It made her thighs tense around Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer and when the rough material pressed against her cunt a moan fell from her lips. The younger girl hummed, pressing more against Jimin while toying with the hard nipples with her mouth and fingers, twisting and pulling, touching her in a way only she knew. 

It was yet another thing that was hard to let go of. The fact that they knew each other’s bodies so well and knew exactly what to do. It was all working against what should be done and driving them towards pipe dreams.

Her chest heaved, losing her words as they all came out breathless, being greedy for more to fill all the emptiness that had been growing for the past months. “You’re so good, baby.” She hummed, her eyes closing as her mind finally went empty, it went silent with everything else and all they could focus on was the moment and not what was and what would be. It was enough to make Y/n’s hips press more into Jimin, slowly moving them for friction while leaving the older’s chest glistening. 

She slowly started to move down further, kissing along the heaving slim stomach until she was on her knees in front of Jimin. The lacy black underwear seeped through with her arousal and Y/n’s fingers hooked at their hem, looking up at Jimin who was sitting up and looking down at her with lust-clouded eyes. She leaned back against her palms, raising her hips and letting Y/n peel off the last piece of her body.

Her hands ran over Jimin’s thighs, spreading her legs further apart while biting onto her lower lip at the view of her glistening pussy that was leaking with juices. She lifted the girl’s leg and rested it over her shoulder before she started to kiss along her inner thighs, gently biting and sucking on the soft flesh as her hands needily kneaded them. It made Jimin heave a sigh, her hand coming to grab hold of Y/n’s head, dwelling in the feeling of the butterfly kisses left along her inner thighs. 

Through her hooded eyes, she watched Y/n, making eye contact every time the younger looked up through her lashes for approval of what she was doing despite knowing Jimin’s body better than most things. Her fingers pressed into the flesh as her arm was wrapped around one of her thighs, inching closer until she reached the girl’s heat. It was enough to make the older girl squirm the slightest when she got pulled closer to the edge before feeling the wet muscle drag between her folds.

Y/n grabbed hold of her waist with her free hand, holding Jimin in place to not have her squirm too much. Her tongue ran between her folds, spreading the wetness as she dipped her head and circled the grasping hole. The grip on her hair tightened, ears being filled with soft moans and whimpers as she continued to work her tongue and lips around the puffy cunt. She sucked on her lips, enjoying the mess that was spreading on her chin, lapping every little bit up to get more on her tongue. 

Jimin slowly felt herself lose her mind at the teasing tongue, Y/n taking her time to continue working her up. The need continued to bubble inside her, her clit throbbing for attention and her hole clenching as she wanted to be filled until she would feel numb in the brain for at least a few minutes. This was finally something they could grasp at, the escape from everything even the daydream they had created, getting to a real one even if it wouldn’t last too long.

The light moans filled the hotel room when Y/n’s lips at last wrapped around her swollen clit, her tongue coming out to flick at the bud. The pace between slow and fast, sucking and flicking was making Jimin’s thighs tremble around the girl’s head. Her fingers were tangled in Y/n’s hair, pulling her closer to her pussy as her hips faintly bucked at the pleasure. 

Y/n drowned, getting as much pleasure from drowning between Jimin’s soft thighs as the girl above her was feeling from the tongue that was toying with her needy cunt. She caressed her heaving stomach with her other hand, kneading the plush flesh of her thigh as she felt Jimin pull her further into her with her leg that was on her shoulder. 

“Fuck, Y/n–” She whined, her breathing picking up and growing heavier the longer her clit was played with. She could feel it all slowly approaching her and soon enough she would reach the edge and fall off of it. 

The girl dipped her head, her nose rubbing against the swollen clit and her tongue lapped at the juices. The room filled with the sopping sounds of Jimin’s pussy and moans and Y/n’s mouth messily eating her out, moaning at the taste and tugs on her hair, her cock throbbing at how good it felt. With the sticky mess collected on her tongue, she circled her clit and went back to flicking at it and tugging with her lips. 

“So close, ‘m so close, baby.” 

Her body started to tense up, Y/n’s ears muffled at how the thighs locked around her head with her head being held in place. It made her sore tongue work harder to be able to hear Jimin’s voice go up higher. 

That was enough for the older girl to lose her control and the sounds started to spill from her mouth, moaning Y/n’s name in a high pitch. Her body got consumed by heat as her vision blacked out and her ears started to buzz when the orgasm hit its peak as Y/n continued to flick at her clit. It was making her whine and buck her hips for more until she felt herself crash back down to reality. She heaved for air, loosening her grip on Y/n’s hair and the girl slowed down, only leaving small kisses along her skin that was scorching. 

When she got back up on her feet their lips met in a vivid kiss, Jimin’s hands working on Y/n’s jeans to undo the loose material. She tugged them down together with Y/n’s boxers, her hand wrapping around the thick cock that was scalding in her hold as she pumped it, smearing the precum as she reached the swollen tip. The whimpers that fell from Y/n’s lips were swallowed by Jimin, moaning into the intense kiss. 

She pulled Y/n down, making her lay down on the bed, the younger girl moved back until she was in the middle of the bed, leaning against her elbows. Her eyes were on Jimin who got on the bed before crawling over to her. They got engulfed in each other's heat as she straddled Y/n who slumped back, running her hands over the girl’s thighs and to the back of her ass to caress it. 

“No one knows me like you do.” She whispered, leaning down and letting her lips brush over Y/n’s with her fingers tracing along her jawline. No one knew Jimin like Y/n did and no one knew Y/n like Jimin did and even if it looked the way it did, they carried that fact with pride. She pecked the girl's lips, pulling away and letting Y/n chase after her as she tried to grab hold of Jimin’s face, but got her hands pinned down to the bed. 

“Jimin–” She tried although was cut off as she let her head fall back against the mattress, fingers twisting the duvet as her wrists were held down by the girl on top of her. 

“I hate that now.” She admitted, hating that no one knew her as well as Y/n and that no one would ever get to know her as well again. They had learned from their mistakes and now no one would ever be able to compare. There was no one she would open up to like this again, not when it hurt so much when it all died. They didn’t want to go through this pain twice when they never wanted to experience it to begin with.

“I know.” Jimin huffed, her lips brushing over Y/n’s neck because obviously, the younger girl would know that Jimin hated it now. “Do you regret it?” Y/n mumbled, doing her best to not squirm under the girl who was leaving light kisses along her neck. The words from the other day still lingering, but Jimin knew that she never meant what she said about regretting it.

“No matter how much it hurts–” Jimin pulled away and looked Y/n in the eye, the younger’s head tilting to the side as she stared up at her with hopeful eyes. Y/n’s eyes alone were enough for Jimin to know the answer, she knew it right away as she reached her hand down to Y/n’s face, one still holding her wrists down. Her thumb tenderly caressed along Y/n’s cheek and over her lips. “I could never regret everything I’ve given you.” And everything she gave was all that she had after she placed herself in Y/n’s hands and she would always be there even if what made her give herself in the first place had withered. 

Her thumb tugged down on Y/n’s lip before she leaned down and attached their lips once again. Sighs fell from between their lips, Jimin’s hand running between their bodies to grab hold of Y/n’s cock. 

Y/n pulled away from the kiss, panting for air as her eyes fell between their bodies, watching Jimin drag the swollen tip through her folds, the slickness and warmth were enough to make Y/n bite back a whine at how good it felt. The grip on her wrists tightened when her tip made contact with Jimin’s clenching hole, slowly pushing into the tightness that sucked her in. 

“So tight.” The younger mumbled, her chest heaving at the anticipation as she watched herself slowly disappear inside of the girl on top of her, splitting her folds with her cock. The tight walls engulfed her length, grasping it and sucking her inside with greed as they continuously clenched at the stretch. 

“You make me feel so full.” Jimin sighed with a whine at the slight pain. 

Y/n’s eyes stayed glued on how her cock got engulfed by Jimin’s tight pussy, splitting her lips around the thick shaft and she slowly moved. The older girl hummed, letting go of Y/n’s wrists. Both her palms rested on top of the girl’s stomach with her nails slightly digging in at the painful stretch. Hands caressed her thighs while she lowered herself until she felt Y/n deep inside her, filling her to the hilt. 

Y/n dropped her head, shutting her eyes tightly when she was fully inside Jimin who let out a light moan at the feeling. Her cock was throbbing, twitching at how good it felt, the warm and wet walls were pulsating around her and her stomach flexed with every little move. 

She slowly started moving her hips back and forth, her clit still sensitive from her first orgasm as it dragged along Y/n’s pelvis. Her walls fluttered, and being filled up was making her crave more at how good it felt. The feeling of Y/n’s veiny cock raw inside her tight cunt was overwhelmingly good, making out each vein that dragged along her walls.

She gyrated them as they whined back and forth on Y/n’s dick whose lips were parted at the way it dragged along the clenching walls. Her ears were graced by Jimin’s soft gasps and sighs, nails digging into her stomach. The older’s thighs flexed, her walls pulsating and clit throbbing as she slowly increased her speed, chasing her pleasure by using Y/n. 

“I love using your cock to make myself feel good,” Jimin whined, her head getting thrown back and Y/n groaned at the words that made her dick ache inside the hot and wet cunt of the girl. Their bodies moved and fit together perfectly like waves that collided against waves, their bodies buzzing with that feeling from the inside as their head splashed with desires. 

Her chest heaved at the sight of her girlfriend grinding along her cock, watching how she chased her high once again. The sounds were starting to get more lewd with each moan falling from the girl’s lips, Jimin’s wetness coating Y/n’s base and the mess only got bigger.

“You look so good doing it.” Y/n could feel the way the walls clasped around her at the words, the girl taking all the pleasure in using Y/n for her benefit as Y/n enjoyed it just as much. The way the girl would go on and have her orgasms before Y/n even got to think of hers.

Jimin was on top of her with a vice grip on her cock with her sopping cunt. Y/n’s hands were on her the thighs flexed with each movement and her tip was hitting all the right spots deep inside her. She watched the way the older gasped and threw her head back, dragging her swollen clit along Y/n’s pelvis. Jimin reached behind her and held onto Y/n’s tense thighs instead, rolling her hips in a way that was making her stomach tighten and warm up as she fucked herself on top of the girl.

“I’m so close, baby–fuck, so good.” Her voice cut into a higher pitch as the orgasm started to wash over her with her hips bucking for more and Y/n’s thumb found its way to her swollen clit. She circled the bud as Jimin kept bucking her hips against her, watching the way her chest bounced with each movement.

The throbbing walls clasped around her cock, squeezing it tightly enough for the movement to slow down. Her thighs quivered and she let out cries of pleasure, her voice light and bringing Y/n closer to the edge at how good she looked on top of her. Nails dug into Y/n’s thighs, heat pouring over Jimin’s whole body at her second orgasm.

She heaved for breath, stopping her movement and shivering at the shocks going through her warm body. Her body got engulfed in Y/n’s arms when the girl sat up, her cock still buried deep within the confines of Jimin’s pulsating pussy. She wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shoulders, palms running over her back which was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

As Jimin looked at Y/n, she didn’t want to be done yet, she wished she could drag this out for the rest of her life. To make this serene moment last forever as their bodies became one and all that had been on her mind disappeared. Those worries were gone, it was just now, the present forgotten and the future didn’t exist until it was tomorrow and by then it was present again. 

She tangled her fingers at the back of Y/n’s hair, slowly moving up and down while pulling Y/n more into her. Their breaths mingled, parted lips grazing until she caught Y/n’s lower lip between hers and gently tugged. It was all that they needed, to be back in each other’s arms, to be close and it started to ignite the spark of hope although it didn’t seem to glow strong enough as it continued to flicker back to life before disappearing. 

“I miss you–so much,” Jimin mumbled as she pulled away, moving her hips back and forth as Y/n’s breaths grew heavier. The younger buried her face in the crook of her neck, planting tender kisses. Jimin could feel it all coming back, maybe she hadn’t been drunk enough, or maybe no matter how drunk she was on lust and alcohol she would never be able to drown out the pain of a breaking heart. 

The alcohol and lust weren’t able to mend their hearts. 

Y/n looked up when Jimin pulled her away from her sweltering neck, their eyes met, Jimin’s were glimmering and the entry to her soul had always been open for Y/n. The longer she stared into the window of her soul, the more she realised how crushed Jimin was and it was enough to clarify that they were both suffering. Her hand smoothed over Y/n’s jaw, running along it as she tilted the girl’s head back, her movement not stopping as she watched Y/n slowly crumble under her.

It was shattering her insides to see Y/n this way, the same way it was shattering Y/n to see Jimin like that. They had never thought that the person they loved the most would be the one to destroy them the most too. 

Love was lethal no matter how much two people loved each other.

“Fuck–” Y/n breathed out, being cut off by Jimin’s soft lips, the girl could feel the length inside her grow harder and twitch as it was clasped inside her heat. They swallowed each other’s moans until they no longer could and the older’s pace picked up, her ass colliding with Y/n’s thighs each time she went down while letting out quick and sharp breaths. Y/n’s hands gripped onto her ass, fingers digging into the soft yet firm flesh as she helped Jimin move, feeling the movement slack off at times. 

A soft and light moan escaped Jimin’s lips, grounding herself down on Y/n’s cock, arms wrapped around her shoulders as she panted against her neck. Teeth dug into her shoulder, the whimper suppressed from the younger as she could feel the ropes of cum shoot one after another into her, painting her walls white. Y/n pulled away from her shoulder, slipping out of Jimin’s warmth as they eased down to reality.

Everything stilled as the younger girl still held Jimin in her arms, caressing her warm back while taking deep breaths. It felt like neither of them planned to move any second as the girl snuggled closer into Y/n’s neck, burying her face in the crook of it, her eyes shutting tightly.

It was making Jimin’s chest heave at the panic she felt because she could only watch it all slip through her fingers, unable to do anything to save it.

The attempt to suppress her sobs was feeble as the first one slipped through and then a second followed and her tears were staining Y/n’s skin once again. “Jimin–” 

“I’m scared, Y/n.” She cried into her neck, sobbing and snivelling as it overwhelmed her once again, this time she wasn’t able to hold back on releasing what was heavily on her chest. It didn’t matter how scared they were to bring up the obvious because the thought of how it would end was terrifying. Neither wanted it to end. However, the realisation dawned upon them and it would all end much sooner than intended if they did nothing about it. 

“I’m right here.” Y/n slowly pulled her away, manoeuvring Jimin’s body like fragile butterfly wings that could crumble with a little too much pressure. The girl continued to cry, pulling her knees to her chest, crying into them as Y/n draped the duvet over her, covering her naked body. 

She couldn’t grasp at it, at how all the promises died the second their love did, that they made promises they couldn’t keep and it never should have been this way. They promised to love each other forever and they did, but it no longer was the love that was beyond care and compassion. It was adoration and not love, the love; was gone. 

Jimin refused to accept it, no, she couldn’t accept that and would dig through every little corner until she found something that would help the withered flower bloom back to life. She’d shed all her tears until her eyes would be bleeding just to have enough to water their flower of love that had died. There had to be some way to save it even if it hurt, even if it hurt more than it already did.

Y/n got back onto the bed after she pulled on her boxers, Jimin was still crying into her knees until the younger girl sat behind her, the duvet resting over the both of them. She held back on her tears as she cradled the weeping girl’s head, lending her shoulder to cry on once again and she would continue doing so until her last breath. It would never matter what type of love they held for each other, she would always care even if everything else they used to have that was deeper had died. 

It was a death neither of them knew how to cope with.

“I’m here for you.” She reassured her, kissing the top of her head.

“I hate this, Y/n—” Her sobs cut through her words, her hands gripping the duvet before they let go, feeling hopeless; what was there to hold on to in reality? There was nothing to hold onto as they both freely fell through hell for each other. It made them weak in so many ways. “Nothing is the same anymore and I don’t know what to do.” Acceptance was hard for anyone, it had always been hard, but it was even harder when it came to something they made their whole lives revolve around. How could they just accept that their worlds no longer circled the other? 

It stung, it hurt deeply to think that this was possible, something they had never thought about had become their reality. The flower that bloomed with their love was dead. Yet these tears and the pain they felt at the thought of needing to let go made them want to try again. One last try to revive something that had been dead and cold for months. If some miracle happened, they would be able to bring it back to life. Their love would bloom from a dead flower at some point, they would continue watering it with their tears, crying over the dead flower that was their love in hopes of it coming back to life.

“We can make it work again.” Y/n wasn’t brave enough to say the words, she wasn’t strong enough to say them for Jimin and herself. To admit for the both of them that what was lost was lost and that it was time to say goodbye and bury their love because there was nothing to save once it was already gone.It was too difficult to bury it when they had yet to accept its death. They had no clue how to cope with everything.

It was eating at them, tearing them apart and glueing them back together into an even bigger mess.

“We can fix everything,” Y/n reassured, knowing that these could as well be empty words and new promises to break, but she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give up on Jimin even if they were mistaking care and compassion for a small ember of love that they could turn into a fire. That fire had gone out a while ago and what was left were ashes.

“Do you think that’s possible?” She whimpered, wanting to do anything to try and grasp at that false little ember of hope.

“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered, just as uncertain, but she would do anything for Jimin even if it meant ruining herself. 

They couldn’t know, but at least it was reassurance that they didn’t have to let go yet and could continue no matter how much it hurt because it would hurt even more if they were apart. It was too difficult to let go of someone they had built their lives around. They would hurt for each other and they would choose that over happiness with someone else because no one would ever be able to give them what they used to have.

They longed for each other’s love. They missed it and just wanted to feel it again but it was all gone. It no longer felt like it used to and they missed those feelings they used to have. Where did they go wrong for it to happen in the first place? What were they supposed to do to fix it? Let go and move on. Stay and continue to drag through the impossible to try and fix it?

They weren’t in love anymore, they just loved each other.

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is here yippee!! I feel like these first few chapters are kind of slow but it’ll be worth it i swear!! And also a huge thank you to everyone for showing the first chapter so much love! It means the world to me. Now with all that aside here is Chapter 2! <3

Themes: This chapter is prettyyy sappy, Ford and Reader sort of make up? (Let’s see how long that lasts) sad feelings, small arguments, kissing, yearning, etc all the stuff that’s blanching okay anyways

The next day you find yourself sitting in a booth at Greasy’s Diner, idly stirring creamer into your cup of coffee. The diner is relatively quiet, the only sounds coming from the occasional clinking of silverware against plates and the soft hum of the AC unit. The smell of bacon and fried eggs wafts through the air, and sunlight streams through the large windows, casting the small diner in a warm glow. You take a sip of your coffee, the caffeine working its way into your system as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of yesterday’s events.

You’re soon brought out of your trance as your close friend Lizzy arrives, sliding her way into the booth in front of you. Her strong perfume drifts through the air as she tucks her curly blonde hair behind her ears, showing off the golden hoops she’s adorning as she readjusts her bright green V-neck. She reaches into her purse, grabbing a bright red lipstick and begins applying it as she speaks.

“Sorry I’m late doll. Traffic was a total nightmare!”

Your face warms at the presence of your close friend, although it doesn’t seem to ease the heartache you’re feeling from your previous encounter with Ford. Your hurt being evident in your tone as you reply.

“It’s no problem Liz.”

Lizzy’s gaze instantly meets yours as she pauses, catching onto your tone immediately. She studies you for a moment, lowering the red lipstick as she takes in your tired eyes and solemn expression.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks gently, voice laced with concern. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

You sigh, your shoulders drooping as you begin to explain your situation to Lizzy.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you say, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. (Ford’s sweater ahem ahem) “Things have been… hectic, to say the least. My relationship with Ford has been falling apart, and I feel like I’ve been living with a ghost these past few weeks. He’s been completely immersed in his research, and he barely even acknowledges my presence anymore.”

Lizzy watches you carefully with a frown, her brows furrowed in concern.

You continue, your voice faltering slightly as you recall the recent events. “Yesterday morning, we had a tense conversation where he basically said that his research is more important to him than our marriage. And then one of our old friends from college showed up and it made the situation even worse.”

Lizzy listens intently as you speak, her expression filled with sympathy. Once you finish explaining everything, she reaches across the table and takes your hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this Y/N,” she says soothingly. “You deserve so much better than that doll. And you should definitely get out of that house for a bit and clear your mind. How about you come stay at my place for a couple of weeks? You don’t need to deal with all of this...” she waves her free hand around as she continues. “Man-stress, alone.”

A wave of gratitude washes over you at Lizzy’s offer, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. She really was an amazing friend. You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “I don’t want to impose or anything.”

Lizzy chuckles dismissively, giving you a reassuring smile.

“You won’t be imposing on anything Y/N. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment, and it’ll be nice to have some company other than my boyfriend. Plus, a change of scenery might do you some good.”

You take a second to consider her offer, weighing the pros and cons in your mind. The idea of getting away from everything for awhile was tempting, and spending time with a good friend is always a nice thought. You take another deep breath, pushing down the small voice in your head that is telling you to stay and make things right with Ford. You knew he wasn’t going to change his mind anytime soon, or at least it felt that way.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice slightly stronger now. “I’ll stay with you for a while. Thank you, Liz, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

Her smile widens, and she gives your hand another squeeze. “Of course chick,” she says. “What are friends for right?” She then reaches over and takes your coffee, thoughtfully taking a sip of the not-so-hot liquid.

“So, do you need help packing a bag, or do you want to go back home first to get your things?”

You think for a moment before replying. “I can head back to the house to pack a bag, but I’ll probably need to leave the car for Ford in case he needs it. Could you pick me up around 3:00?”

Lizzy nods in understanding, a slight frown on her face at the mention of Ford. Even when the two of you were fighting you still looked out for him, it was admirable.

“Yeah, of course,” she says. “I’ll be there at three. Text me when you’re packed and ready, and I’ll head over to pick you up. Just focus on getting what you need, and don’t worry about anything else, kay?”

You down the rest of your now-shared coffee, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of getting away from the stressful atmosphere of your house. You thank your friend once again for her kindness, promising to message her once you’re ready to be picked up. With a small wave you leave the diner, heading back towards your house to pack a bag and prepare for your temporary stay at Lizzy’s.

As you make your way back to the cabin you realize walking may not have been the smartest choice. The skies have darkened, and the air has grown crisper. Large, plump raindrops begin to fall, creating a soft patter against the pavement. The once bright and sunny day has transformed into a dreary, rainy afternoon, the weather seeming to reflect your current situation.

You quicken your pace, the sound of rain getting louder as it hits the ground and the surrounding trees. The house soon comes into view, standing tall and imposing against the grey sky. Your clothes and hair become soaked with rain as you speed towards the front door, swinging it open and shutting it behind you.

As you step into the house, the heavy door closing behind you with a soft thump, you are surprised to find Ford standing in the entryway. He looks the same as before, tired, and a bit weathered. Although he seems taken aback by your appearance, his eyes flickering with surprise and… something else.

“You’re soaked,” he says, a hint of concern in his voice. “What happened?”

You turn your gaze from him as you shed your coat, revealing his old sweater underneath as you place it on a nearby hook.

“I went out with Lizzy for a late breakfast and got caught in the rain.”

Ford watches you as you hang your coat and begin to remove your shoes. He notices the slight distance in your voice, and the way you avoid his gaze. He knows deep down there’s more to it than just a simple breakfast with a friend. He hesitates a moment before speaking.

“I see,” he says slowly. “So, you two just… had breakfast?”

A sigh escapes you as you sit up straight, finally meeting his gaze.

“Yep.”

Ford’s jaw clenches slightly as he studies you, clearly sensing that there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.

“That’s it?” He presses, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“I’m going to be staying at her place for a couple of weeks.”

His eyes widen at your response, his lips parting in surprise. The hint of skepticism in his voice grows stronger as he takes a small step towards you.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “How long..?”

You turn your head from him with a frown, hugging your arms as you speak in a quiet yet frustrated tone.

“I’ll be out of your hair this way and you can focus on your project with Fiddleford, since it obviously takes higher priority.”

Ford’s eyes widen even further, a mix of shock and pain crossing his face at your words. His hands clench at his sides as he processes what you’ve just said, his mind reeling.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his tone now filled with frustration. “You’re treating this like I just want to get rid of you, like I don’t-“ He pauses closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like what Stanford?” you step forward, beginning to become angry with him. “Don’t act as though you didn’t tell me that your research is bigger than our relationship. You’ve tossed everything aside but now that I’m leaving for a few weeks you’re suddenly concerned?”

His eyes snap open at your outburst, scowling as his expression was a mix of frustration and guilt.

“You’re twisting my words,” he snaps. “I never said my research was bigger than our marriage. I just…” He falls silent, his anger deflating slightly as he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pleading in remorse.

“I just need some time to focus on this project,” he continues, softer now, his frustration giving way to desperation. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to leave. I… I never wanted that Y/N. Never.”

Your anger and resolve begin to crumble at his pleading state, your eyes softening as they meet his. You find your legs moving on their own as you step towards him, your arms slowly reaching to wrap around his middle. You rest your cheek on Ford’s shoulder, inhaling his scent. A mixture of pine and musk, with a tinge of smoke.

He lets out a shaky breath as you approach him, his rigid stance relaxing as you embraced him. His own hands eventually find your back, hesitating for a moment, but soon returning the embrace. He holds you as close to him as possible, trembling slightly as he buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his voice muffled, but filled with a combination of mixture and despair.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You tighten your arms around him, your voice soft and reassuring.

“I’m not leaving you Ford,” you speak, your breath warm against his neck. “I just think we both need a bit of space right now. I need time to sort out my thoughts, and I think getting away for awhile will help with that. But I promise you I’m not leaving you.”

Ford’s grip on you tightens slightly at your words, as if he is afraid to let you go. His body tremors faintly as he absorbs your reassurance, his voice a mixture of relief and resignation.

“How long?” he asks with a vulnerable tone. “How long will you be gone?”

You pull back, just enough to look him in the eyes. You reach up, gently cupping his face in your hands, and he leans into your touch.

“Just a couple of weeks at most,” your thumb stroked his cheek as you spoke, giving him a look of sympathy. “When I get back, we can work through this, alright?”

His eyes search yours, his expression now one of understanding. Ford nods slowly, his hands moving to cover yours, his calloused fingers gripping your wrists gently.

“Alright. But please stay in touch. I need to know you’re okay.”

You manage to give him a soft smile and a nod, before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Ford’s eyes fluttered shut at the unexpected gesture, a small sound of surprise escaping him. His hands grip yours even tighter, his body leaning into yours as the kiss lingers for a moment.

After sharing a few more, you finally pull back. Ford’s eyes open, and he gazes at you with a look of surprise and yearning. A slight flush of pink is apparent on his features, his lips parted and slightly reddened from the act. He observes you for a moment, before bringing your knuckles to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there as if trying to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

“I’ll miss you,” he spoke tenderly. “Don’t forget about me while you’re gone, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sixer.”

Ford’s heart skips a beat at the familiar nickname, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He pulls you closer, enveloping you in his embrace once more, large calloused hands wrapping around your back.

“Good,” he murmurs, resting his chin atop of your head.

“Because I’ll be counting the days until you come back.”

tags :) - @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum

[jazjelspen]

when memories snow

alastor x overlord reader

(notes: songfic, angst, reader has similar powers to alastor, al and vox used to be friends in this fic)

-oneshot-

song used: when memories snow - mitski

You looked out your window to see the Hazbin Hotel in ruins, 666 News playing in the background as you stared off. You recently left the V's building after watching the wreck that was Alastor and Adam's battle through Vox's TV, sure it felt good seeing Alastor get what he deserved after what he did to the both of you but still.. lingering feelings of yours stayed present.

You knew he wasn't dead. You could feel it, his soul's presence still reeked as always it always has in hell.. but it was faint. His soul was far and you could feel it recovering,

That was all you could feel though, your powers limited to there.

You never really enjoyed partnering up with Vox, let alone the other Vs in general. Despite him being an ass to work with you enjoyed when you and Vox would complain to each other about how Alastor threw you both aside.

For Vox he was a friend, business partner, but to you-- he was your lover.

Despite how much you liked complaining to him you didn't exactly pay him much attention since he clearly just wanted to reel you in to work against Alastor, in a heat of anger and at the brink of tears you agreed, now you wondered if it was even worth it.

You loved him, you loved Alastor so much. You made so many good memories with him to the point that you couldn't even look at your home the same now that he's been there, nor could you look at the streets, the towns, the corners of hell you've both been in together. Too painful.

The way he left you behind was sad, truly. He was courting you for at least a decade or two and oh was he such a gentleman to you.. a real sweetheart. He'd hold out his hand for you to take when going down steps of stairs, offer you his arm to hold when walking, take you to outings full of wonder and awe despite the setting you both were in, he even gave you private gifts for when he noticed you were stressed out over your work or simply distraught over anything. Yes this seemed like basic relationship actions but to you it meant so much more.

Sure, he was never openly affectionate. He was okay with touch from you and all and even said a few little cheesy remarks towards you that at times that would make your face flush from how pure his words are despite the owner of the tongue that they are coming out of.

You both bonded over how similar your powers were, bonded over dance, music, singing and to you he saw you as a very interesting and peculiar individual with how different your own adventures were, adventures where he just had to come and see what you were to do to end the situation with and how.. even your his and your shadows played around and goofed off themselves.

To him, you were entertaining.

But in private? He was a dream, at times telling you sweet things that made you light-headed in the best way possible and on the very, very rare occasions did he ever land a kiss on you behind closed doors.

You were the only one to see him this way, so in the end it made you feel as if his love for you was true.

Right?

You loved him, you hated him.

You want to rip him apart in a mess of blood and guts but you also want to be near him again.

Conflicting feelings were raging a war in you, your love and your hunger for revenge killing each other slowly to see who would be the fateful victor in this.

Seven years ago on the day of one of your anniversaries he left you with no warning at all, leaving you worried sick and almost grieving. You attempted to use your powers to try to feel his soul somewhere, anywhere.. but it was as if it fizzled out- leaving traces of where he used to be.

You never moved on and seeing him suddenly come back after those painful years passed made you so happy.. feeling his soul walking around was like a breath of the freshest air of Eden, until all he did was only acknowledge everyone but you.. he fucking acknowledged Vox but ignored you and disappeared each time you came around and no matter how hard you tried it pained you immensely how slicker he got to avoid talking to you.

The killing sprees you both went on together? The dates? The care, the protecting.. you sacrificed one of your fellow overlords for him for his radio broadcast when he first came about because you felt like he was an interesting individual with potential. Was it all just-- for naught?

He seemed in love in his own special way.. so why.. why did he leave you with no words and now proceed to pretend as if you're nothing but a limp corpse.

You hated it you couldn't take it.

So you sought refuge in Vox, becoming 'friends' through your fresh hate of Alastor.

Once the news finished its broadcast you couldn't help but still feel a sense of anger rising in you, revenge bubbling in your blood through your skin as if begging you to take your own pound of flesh.

"When memories snow, and cover up the driveway."

Your voice began to sing, singing wasn't something you did since that fateful day your heart was ripped inside out. But.. it was only fitting you finally did now.

"I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store."

Your feet turned away from the window to walk towards your desk, you looked around briefly to notice how unkept it was.. never fully cleaning your own study due to your emotional rollercoasters.

"And when memories melt," your eyes narrowed down in emotional pain, remembering one of your most exciting escapades with him before he left. "I hear them in the drainpipe."

You leaned against your desk as you hurriedly opened one of your drawers to then pull out a hidden black and white photo of Alastor and you celebrating one of your anniversaries.

You were so happy that day.

Tears began brimming in your eyes as your hand started trembling and wrinkling the photo with how hard you were holding it.

Do you think he'd visit you?...

Your throat cracking slightly yet your singing never dared to falter.

"Dripping through the downspout.. as I lie awake in the dark."

No, no. If he truly wanted to see you again he would've done it six months ago, but he seemed to be more interested and entertained by the Princess of Hell and her dingy hotel.

As the sound around you amplified so did your heart beat, your anger, the exploding rage. Your shadow began to move on its own as an evil smile presented itself on the floorboards. It laughed, it laughed at you yet whispered encouraging words.. encouraging you to get him to regret leaving you behind. The same shadow that laughed at you when you first realized that you were truly in love with him.

The shadow grew more and expanded itself to your wall and over the window, looking down at the window where the ruins of the hotel was visible to you. It laughed and whispered, mumbled and encouraged you.

As your sorrow weighed on you and made you physically lean against your desk with your hand over your heart, the emotional ache washing over you like a tsunami's ocean wave. It felt as if that dreadful day was repeating,

"And if I break,"

You turned around to face the window again, your body leaning on your desk with a pained look on your features. You wanted to stop hurting--

"Could I go on break?"

It will, it'll stop hurting. Your shadow told you so, and it whispered so many secrets and ideas to you you couldn't help but feel confident in what you wanted to do next.

You won't stay down, you'll pick yourself up.

You stood up straight and off from the desk, a newfound optimism seating itself next to your heartbreak. It even reached to your vocal cords with it now making your singing sound more stern and steady.

"Be back in my room, writing speeches in my head."

You took a few steps towards the window, your shadow only growing bigger and widening itself across your room.. basking it all in darkness. It devilishly cheered for you, for your up in coming revenge.

You began to grin, feeling your power enhance with this fire in your heart raging and dancing like a tango.

You raised your arms up as if welcoming in this new revelation, happily bringing in this new purpose.

"Listening to the thousand hands,"

"That clap for me in the dark."

Your grinning face stayed plastered with your emotions as you sang your last words, your song finishing soon after.

In the end, rage won over your soul, overlooking the love you have had for him.

You will get your revenge against Alastor.

Whether he truly felt the same way for you or not, you weren't going to ask yourself that anymore. Avenging yourself was all that mattered.

You picked up your phone, tapping it a few times before it started ringing.. your intended target to help you in your plans answered.

"Vox, do you still have some free time on your hands? We need to have a discussion about the Radio Demon."

You weren't regretting this, you won't regret it.

[blqstar]

HI BABES<3!!! Can you please please please, write something for a sub!yan Izuku and mean reader 🤭, literally my favorite thing to read! But if not, I just wanna say I love your writing!

ofc, poota butt! and thank you so much, i’m glad you love my writing. i hope this is worth your while, love 🤍

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ CONTENT WARNINGS: nsfw (17+) , yandere themes , sub!yan!izuku , dom!mean reader , oral (f!recieving) , mention of anal fingering , zuku being delulu and v obsessive , honestly not proofread lmaoo

pro!hero izuku midoriya. majority know him as a strong and reliable leading figure, with his strength and intelligence being respected equally. but the man you knew him to be was the total opposite. here he kneels in front of you, lapping up your cunt with your juices, never taking his pleading eyes off of you.

izuku was a total creep. always watching you through darkened corners and small windows, following you everywhere you went no matter if other bystanders watched him in suspicion. he was a major stalker. and with being the obsessive freak he is, you wanted to mess with his head so bad, to the point where he completely crumbles to the slightest amount of attention you give him.

you wanted to use him for all his worth. izuku doesn’t care if you’re the nicest child of god or the meanest bitch on earth. all he wants is for you to notice him, acknowledge him— be something worth your while. And what if you spent that ‘while’ making him spread his legs and finger himself while you watched? who is he to try and stop you?

if he can’t be with you, at least he can make himself useful. if you say that all he’s good for is eating that pussy of yours, who is he to oblige? as long as he’s good for something.

it was just fun and games at first. using the stalker, letting him trip over himself by the fact that you were actually paying attention to him. but the more and more these activities kept going on, the more and more you found yourself becoming fond of the man.

your conscience told you to get outta there, that playing with someone’s feelings was just dead wrong. but it was just too entertaining for you to run away. who else would let you treat them like a little doggy on a leash? no one else but him. that’s why you felt that izuku was a more…special case that needed to be explored to the lowest depths. for your satisfaction, of course.

“i promise to show you i’m worth somethin’ to you….please…don’t leave me, i won’t be able..to live without you.” he says, his hot breath hitting your lips as izuku continues to slurp away at your clit.

your legs shake at the hot breeze, your hand rushing down to hold the back of his head. you can only sigh at his words, pushing his head down a little more.

he savors every swipe of his pink tongue over your abundant slick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to, and with a hitch of his breath, tears spring to his eyes when he thinks in the slightest that it might be.

if it wasn’t good, you woulda left ‘em already.

[chereus]

Oblivious Boyfriends | D. Winchester

Summary - Dean had been neglecting his boyfriend bedroom duties and you were getting frustrated [set in season 10ish, they’re fully moved into the bunker]

Pairings - SoftDom!Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Dom Dean, daddy kink, if you squint there’s angst before the blinding smut, spanking, choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, hot angry Dean, sexual tension, talk about love and marriage??? Kinda??? It was done tastefully though I promise!!!

Cherry’s notes: Whew! That was spicy—in honor of my new phone I decided I’d post this as a thanks to people who’ve supported me throughout my writing journey <3. I’m still getting used to this writing format that tumblr has so pls be nice!!!

P.S ~ This may have been sorter than intended due to tumblr deleting half of this while I wasn’t looking. Still upset about that. Also sorry for the time delay because of said tumblr issues, had to rewrite most of it + an ending -_-.

Word count: about 1.2k

You were kind of being a bitch today. But in your defense, your boyfriend Dean had been so busy with work that he hardly had time to satisfy your in the bedroom needs. When you’d try and communicate that this was becoming an issue you’d been brushed off every. single. time. So naturally you started to get frustrated and decided to take control into your own hands for the time being.

“Y/n, have you seen my gun?” Dean announced himself as he stumbled into the library. You just continued to sit there and do your research without so much as a morsel of acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Y/n have you seen my gun?” only this time he got a small clench of the jaw and a silent flare of the nostrils. Still with no response he decided to try a third time when you suddenly just got up and left leaving him completely alone in the library.

Wondering what he did he promptly followed you, but once he realized he wasn’t getting far by just following in your footsteps he bravely spoke, “Okay, seriously, is this how we’re acting today?”.

This immediately caught your attention but you showed no signs of making a huge scene so you quickly and calmly stopped while turning around to face him while replying with, “I don’t know Dean, is it?”.

He really didn’t like the passive aggressiveness in your tone. It hadn’t helped that you’d quickly spun around and once again resumed ignoring him. Being ignored was one of his top ten pet peeves and you knew it. That’s exactly why you chose this method to piss him off. Get him all worked up, he’d have to take his frustrations out on you then.

“What the hells’ that supposed to mean?” He countered, following you into the kitchen.

“It means that if you don’t know then it’s not worth talking about.” You said truthfully. Suddenly Dean found himself recalling the days to see if he’d missed a birthday, a dinner, an anniversary, anything that would constitute this type of treatment and he came up empty.

As you noticed Dean sitting there dumbfounded you took it upon yourself to grab one of his beers from the fridge and march back out successfully initiating phase one.

You’d been toying with the idea for quite some time but never had the means or justification until now, you were going to go around the house and dump all of the alcohol.

This was seemingly easy considering after your and deans little spat, he’d decided to give you some space to cool off seeing that you were angry with him. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do what you needed to do. This was phase two.

Phase three was to just sit back and watch the anger seep from deep within Dean Winchesters veins until he couldn’t see anything but red.

Sam had been on a hunting trip for the last couple of days and you were thankful because the things he would’ve heard…

“Y/N! Where is all the beer?!” Dean hollered as you passed him in the kitchen.

“I dumped it.” You simply said. Deans face went slate.

“You-you…dumped it.” He said as both a statement and a question. You could see the vein on the side of his neck start to pop and you knew he was close to blowing a gasket at how he had been treated.

“Yup. I dumped it. Decided that we’re now alcohol free. Have fun with your green juices and detox tea.” You were beginning to walk away when he grabbed you and spun you back around so that your chests were touching and he was holding your wrists on both sides of your head.

“Is there something that needs to be sorted out? Cause’ I’m getting’ real tired of the way things have been going around here.” He seethed. He probably just wanted a nice cold beer after working a long hard case all day but you weren’t about to let that happen. You were horny and determined to do something about it.

You got closer to his face and begun to look into his eyes while simultaneously brushing your lips together with his. Nudging your nose against his you whispered, “if there was a problem you’d know.” And you ripped yourself away from him and swiftly dropped out of the room beginning to feel yourself getting wetter by the instant.

Not even ten seconds later Dean came marching out of the kitchen behind you demanding that you work this out by pushing you against the hallway wall. You responded by grabbing him by his belt loops and smashing his hips against yours. He’d finally gotten the hint.

“Is this what you wanted? Was my pretty baby just horny and desperate for her daddies attention?” He said as he grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. You whimpered at the gruffness of his touch, desperate and craving more.

“I need you to answer me, y/n. You know daddy doesn’t like it when you go silent.” Dean enforced. You let out the tiniest little ‘yes’ lost in your own world of pleasure and fulfillment.

“Louder, y/n.” He commanded putting slightly harder pressure onto the sides of your throat that were sure to bruise later but you didn’t care. The feeling of his body on your body was enough to drive you wild.

“Yes!” You deeply moaned wrapping your hands around his hips and flushing your pelvis’s together. Dean leaned down and planted an earth shattering kiss on your lips, tongue swirling around with your own while he still held the position of holding your neck firmly in place without making you dizzy from the lack of air.

“Up.” Dean forced. Slipping his hand under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his torso. When you were situated your hands found their way to his hair to gently tug at the roots.

Hiking you up by your ass you were looming over him with every adjustment. Your hands made their way to either side of his face while you ferociously kissed him. He started to stumble his way down the hallway, careful not to drop you. You moaned as his grip on your ass got tighter the more aroused he was getting.

The warm smell of cinnamon from your hair, the combined scent your vanilla bourbon perfume and your honey body lotion, it reminded him of home. Although you’d been getting in spats and arguments all day you’d still somehow made him feel loved and cared for by the way you’d responded to his touch.

It was at this very moment he decided that he wanted to marry you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or hell— maybe not even next week, but someday If you’d let him.

Finally stumbling into your shared room dominant Dean was back in action. He gently put you down and then shoved you back onto the bed signifying the fact that he was done playing the game you’d been playing all day.

When you adjusted yourself on the bed he immediately ripped your pants off annoyed at the extra fabric keeping the two of you apart. Dipping down he gently put his right hand to your jaw and repeated what you had to him earlier. Brushing your lips together your noses tenderly touched and he gave you one last affectionate kiss before looking down at your tank top and ripping it in two.

Your eyes widened with desire, you’d never seen Dean like this and it was extremely sexy. The mix of softhearted kissing and rough manhandling was driving you insane. Kissing down your stomach the torn shirt was quickly discarded never to be seen again.

Only in your bralette and underwear you start to feel cold with Dean still fully clothed. Grabbing him by his hair you pull his head up from your panty line. Giving him a single peck on the lips you start to peel off the layers of flannel and cotton until his top half was fully nude.

Reaching down to undo his belt buckle he stops you with a questioning glare. He shoves your hands away and moved away from the bed and to the closet where a medium sized black box was laying on the top shelf. Getting that box down you knew that something freaky was about to happen.

Pulling out four long black ropes he looks back at you with a smirk. You gulp and back away slowly, however he was faster and started tying your left wrist tightly to the headboard. Positioning you in the middle of the bed he ties your right to the other side of the headboard.

Deciding to discard the last two ropes, he resumes your playful foreplay now teasing you at the fact that you can no longer touch him in the way you wanted to.

“M’ gonna fuck you in this pretty little bra. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Been walking around all day getting on my nerves so I’d have no choice but to fuck the aggression out. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.” He says menacingly pulling off your underwear.

Leaving your bare pussy in the cold Dean jumps off the bed and begins to slowly undress. And I mean slowly. You thought you were about to combust when you finally saw Dean unbuckle his pants and slowly drop them.

Getting back on the bed Dean slides his hands up and down your curves on your sides, trailing down to your hip bones and finally your throbbing heat. It really was no surprise that you’d gotten worked up so easy considering you and Dean hadn’t had really any sex in almost four months. Orgasms, yes. Sex, no.

It was killing you not being intimate with Dean like you used to. So when he finally put his cold hands on your warm aching pussy you could’ve cried in relief even though it was only through your panties you could feel his fingertips rubbing up against your clit causing you to softly moan in delight.

Gripping the tightly tied ropes Dean tormented you by pulling off your panties and just sat there. Staring. It would’ve made you insecure had you not known that Dean would’ve loved you no matter what you perceived your vagina to look like.

“Would you let me put a baby in you?” Dean asks out of the blue. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched, “In the future of course. Your still on birth control, right?” He thought out loud. You were speechless so all you could do was nod and let out a small ‘uh-huh’.

Dean could tell you were now really tense after that question so he took his hands and smoothed them over your stomach and said, “Don’t worry. Not until your ready. But until then, I’d like to practice.”

Your muscles were slowly untensing as Dean assured you there would be no baby making until your ready. “If we’re practicing, do you mind going in raw? I’d like to be closer with you.”

Dean was now blushing but tried to hide it through dominance. He spread your knees apart and quickly dove in licking and sucking your clit. Pulling at the ropes, you moaned and groaned until you were so close to cumming that you could cry.

Dean could tell how close you were so he sped up his tongue motions and hooked his arms around the base of your thighs so you couldn’t move anywhere.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as your first orgasm took over you. Dean wasted no time in sliding his manhood into you with great force.

Putting his hands at your hips he began roughly thrusting into you at an angle that kept hitting your g-spot over an over again. As you were getting louder and louder with your moans Dean reached down in between your legs and rubbed your clit. He was fucking you so hard at this point you were seeing spots.

“Yeah. Your such a good girl. Taking it so good for me. Gonna be doing this to make a baby one day, huh sweetheart. Look at me.” He said as your eyes were starting to droop. Your eyes tiredly opened and you seen Dean look at you like your the queen of the world. His world. With adoration and love.

“Gonna let me fill you up, hmm? Gonna let me take care of you while your carrying our child? Gonna let me go out at three am to fill some ridiculous request of bread and butter pickles from that grocery store half an hour away?” Dean asks with a fond smirk on his face. Like he’d be so excited to be able to do those things for you.

Just hearing how happy it would make Dean to be your caretaker in your time of need makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not just because he’s still fucking the life out of you.

Once you get close enough to the edge Dean starts to get greedy. He wants you to cum and he wants it now. “Give it to me y/n. Now.” He says wrapping his hand around your throat and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Seconds later it felt like fireworks had been let off in your stomach with how hard you were orgasming. At one point you were certain that you were seeing stars.

“Fuck! Dean!” You moaned as you made other noises that you had no idea you could even make. Before you could even come down Dean slipped out of you and was undoing the ropes.

“All fours. Now.” Was the command. Still a little dizzy, you comply wanting to see where this was going.

Upon getting on all fours dean was already behind you thrusting upwards at a new angle. Letting out a deep groan you dropped to your elbows and grabbed the sheets.

“Having that attitude all day really drove me nuts all day, y’know that? Now I get to fuck it out of you and I couldn’t be happier.” He said slapping your ass hard. You yelped and tried to go forward but his hands at the crease of your hip and thigh bone wouldn’t let you.

“Your not going nowhere. Your gonna sit here and let me breed you like a good little slut.” You couldn’t deny hearing those words made the sex ten times hotter. When you leaned your head back to moan deans hand was there to grab you by your hair and continue fucking your pussy until you exploded.

Pulling your hair was the final step in your third and final orgasm. Pulling away slightly at the overstimulation Dean speeds up, chasing his own climax. With one last grunt Dean came spilling into you with force.

“Oh God,” you shuddered, suddenly very cold. Goosebumps lining your skin, you get off the bed leaving Dean to fend for himself.

After you cleaned up you got back in bed with Dean. “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want kids with me?” You asked as you lifted up the covers where Dean currently resided.

“Well yeah, I’d also like to put a ring on your finger too whenever you’ll let me.” Dean said shyly playing with the edging on the covers.

You quietly smiled and kissed Dean as you settled down. “I love you, and I want to marry you. But kids are out for a while. At least until I’m sure one of us isn’t going to end up dead with the shit we deal with on the daily. I won’t put another generation of kids what we went through. I just won’t.”

Although Dean was disappointed, he understood. His childhood sucked and he’d do anything to make sure that his kid didn’t live the same life.

“But we can still practice though, right?” Dean asked cheekily. You laughed, “yes Dean we can still practice.”

You both chuckled when you heard a voice booming from the kitchen, “Dean, where is all the beer?!” It was Sam.

“You were kidding though about the beer weren’t you?” He asked and you laughed harder.

“No, I wasn’t. I was committed. I really dumped all the alcohol in the house. Sam will understand given his healthy lifestyle.” Dean groaned and sunk into the mattress. You were still cracking up at the whole situation now that you felt better after your release.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

so part of me wants to blame this entirely on wbd, right? bloys said he was cool with the show getting shopped around, so assuming he was telling the truth (not that im abt to start blindly trusting anything a CEO says lol), that means it’s not an hbo problem. and we already know wbd has an awful track record with refusing to sell their properties—altho unlike coyote v acme, s3 of ofmd isn’t a completed work and therefore there isn’t the same tax writeoff incentive to bury the thing. i just can’t see any reason to hold on to ofmd except for worrying about image, bc it would be embarrassing if they let this show go with such a devoted fanbase and recognizable celebrities and it went somewhere else and did really well (which it would undoubtedly do really well, we’ve long since proven that). it feels kinda tinfoil hat of me to making assumptions abt what’s going on in wbd behind the scenes, but i also feel like there are hints that i’m onto something w my suspicions: suddenly cracking down on fan merch on etsy doesn’t seem like something a studio looking to sell their property would bother with, and we know someone was paying to track the viewing stats on ofmd’s bbc airing, which isn’t finished yet, so i’d expect whoever is monitoring that to not make a decision abt buying ofmd until the s2 finale dropped.

but also i think part of me just wants there to be a clear villain in the situation. it’s kinda comforting to have a face to blame, a clear target to shake my fist at. but the truth is that the entire streaming industry is in the shitter. streaming is not pulling in the kind of profit that investors were promised, and we’re seeing the bubble that was propped up w investor money finally start to pop. studios aren’t leaving much room in their budgets for acquiring new properties, and they’re whittling down what they already have. especially w the strikes last year, they’re all penny pinching like hell. and that’s much a much harder thing to rage against than just one studio or one CEO being shitty. that’s disheartening in a way that’s much bigger and more frightening than if there was just one guy to blame.

my guess is that the truth of the situation is probably somewhere in the middle. wbd is following the same shitty pattern they’ve been following since the merger, and it’s just a hard time for anyone trying to get their story picked up by any studio. ofmd is just one of many shows that are unlucky enough to exist at this very unstable time for the tv/streaming industry.

when i think abt it that way, tho, i’m struck by how lucky we are that ofmd even got to exist at all. if the wbd merger had happened a year earlier, or if djenks and tw tried to pitch this show a year later, there’s no way this show would’ve been made. s1 was given the runtime and the creative freedom needed to tell the story the way the showrunners wanted to, and the final product benefited from it so much that it became a huge hit from sheer gay word of mouth. and for all the imperfections with s2—the shorter episode order, the hard 30 minute per episode limit, the last-minute script changes, the finale a butchered mess of the intended creative vision—the team behind ofmd managed to tell a beautiful story despite the uphill battle they undoubtedly were up against. they ended the season with the main characters in a happy place. ed and stede are together, and our last shot of ed isn’t of him sobbing uncontrollably (like i rlly can’t stress enough how much i would have never been able to acknowledge the existence of this show again if s1 was all we got)

like. y’all. we were this close to a world where ofmd never got to exist. for me, at least, the pain of an undue cancellation is worth getting to have this story at all. so rather than taking my comfort in the form of righteous anger at david zaslav or at wbd or at the entire streaming industry as a whole, i’m trying to focus on how lucky i am to get to have the show in the first place.

bc really, even as i’m reeling in grief to know this is the end of the road for ofmd, a part of me still can’t quite wrap my head around that this show is real. a queer romcom about middle-aged men, a rejection of washboard abs and facetuned beauty standards, a masterful deconstruction and criticism of toxic masculinity, well-written female characters who get to shine despite being in a show that is primarily about manhood and masculinity, diverse characters whose stories never center around oppression and bigotry, a casually nonbinary character, violent revenge fantasies against oppressors that are cathartic but at the same time are not what brings the characters healing and joy, a queer found family, a strong theme of anti colonialism throughout the entire show. a diverse writers room that got to use their perspectives and experiences to inform the story. the fact that above all else, this show is about the love story between ed and stede, which means the character arcs, the thoughts, the feelings, the motivations, the backstories, and everything else that make up the characters of ed and stede are given the most focus and the most care.

bc there rlly aren’t a lot of shows where a character like stede—a flamboyant and overtly gay middle-aged man who abandoned his family to live his life authentically—gets to be the main character of a romcom, gets to be the hero who the show is rooting for.

and god, there definitely aren’t a lot of shows where a character like ed—a queer indigenous man who is famous, successful, hyper-competent, who feels trapped by rigid standards of toxic hypermasculinity, who yearns for softness and gentleness and genuine interpersonal connection and vulnerability, whose mental health struggles and suicidal intentions are given such a huge degree of attention and delicate care in their depiction, who messes up and hurts people when he’s in pain but who the show is still endlessly sympathetic towards—gets to exist at all, much less as the romantic lead and the second protagonist of the show.

so fuck the studios, fuck capitalism, fuck everything that brought the show to an end before the story was told all the way through. because the forces that are keeping s3 from being made are the same forces that would’ve seen the entire show canceled before it even began. s3 is canceled, and s2 suffered from studio meddling, but we still won. we got to have this show. we got to have these characters. there’s been so much working against this show from the very beginning but here we are, two years later, lives changed bc despite all odds, ofmd exists. they can’t take that away from us. they can’t make us stop talking abt or stop caring abt this show. i’m gonna be a fan of this show til the day i die, and the studios hate that. they hate that we care about things that don’t fit into their business strategy, they hate that not everyone will blindly consume endless IP reboots and spin-offs and cheap reality tv.

anyway i dont rlly have a neat way to end this post. sorta just rambling abt my feelings. idk, i know this sucks but im not rlly feeling like wallowing in it. i think my gratitude for the show is outweighing my grief and anger, at least for right now. most important thing tho is im not going anywhere. and my love for this show is certainly not fucking going anywhere.

[blingblong55]

Under the moon -John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a requests: -Your local Johnny slut requests thee a oneshot or longfic (however you choose) for 23 + 5 for Kinktober: Monster AU and Breeding because we all know and love that Johnny's a fucking werewolf. You can sprinkle a bit of pet play and praise here and there. Please and thank you for your consideration 😘 -Idk how to request for the kinktober, but I would like to request Fem Reader x Soap for no.15 & no.23, please? Tq!! --- F!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, praise, pet play, breeding, monster au, werewolf au, established!relationship, doggy style ----

Ever since he told you that he is a werewolf, he has been loving to fuck your tight pussy when he knows it's time to rub his scent on you again. He knows so much about your body with just one sniff, he can feel when you are about to start ovulating, which makes him feral, and he turns into his werewolf self for it. You are cooking in the kitchen? He walks behind you and dry humps you until you turn around and that's when he tears your clothes apart, revealing your perfect pussy lips to him.

His cock is already hard from just watching you whimper. "Johnny-" You want to stop it but it is too good to be stopped. His hand travel all over your thighs, he sits you on the countertop and fucks his fingers into you. Wants to open your pretty cunt up for his massive cock. The veiny and throbbing length is already eager to fill you with his seed. He spreads your legs open and kisses your neck, you're wet and aching cunt fucking yourself into his fingers. He growls, "Don't move," he demands. You pout and he grins, cupping your chin and bringing your lips closer to his. His spit well into your mouth.

When the moon is full, he can't resist, all day he stays home and tries to fuck you atlas a few times. He is so horny he begins to whimper and get needy when you don't touch him or don't acknowledge him. "My love, I've been a good boy, why can't you just touch me?" His hand caressing your thighs and ass. "I promise to make you come more," he pouts and kisses your lips, trying to convince you with his big blue eyes. "All I want is to fuck you," he kisses your neck.

And once you finally give in, he has you bending over the sofa, panties to the side as he licks his slick-coated fingers. "You are the sweetest little thing ever, my love," he pulls his trousers down and tubs the tip of his cock on your entrance. He lets out a moan. He wanted to tease you until you begged for it but he, himself needed to be buried deep inside your pussy. Making you into the perfect toy for him. His beast-like hands gripping your hips, you squirm and he growls. This was the perfect position to have you in. His fat cock barely fits inside your small cunt.

He growls anytime you whimper and does care for your pleasure but his. Your back arches and he grins, your hands holding onto the edges as he pounds himself deep inside of you. You let out a gasp when he bites your shoulder from behind, he grunts and chuckles deeply. "fuck, fuck...J-...shit," you say between moans. "J-johnny!....fuck," he leaves trails of bite marks on your back. "You're my good girl, such a pretty good girl," he whispers and kisses the bite marks. "I love you," he says and rubs his hands on your bare ass and thighs, his cock still being thrust into you.

He stops, "can I fill you up? Please, Bonnie, I want to fuck my pups into your pussy. Fill you to the brim." His thrusts are rare but slow, and he caresses your back. "Fill me, Johnny," you answer and he smirks. His veiny cock reaches orgasm as your tight pussy milks him for all he's worth. He moans, head thrown back, his mohawk brushed back as he grows excited. You roll your eyes back, and loud moans escape your lips. His drool-soaked fingers fucking your tight ass. "Tell me, darling, who's my good girl," he kisses your back. His cum soon leaks inside of you. His seed filling you full, your body taking a good reaction to this.

You pull on the leash that held his collar, "I'm your good girl~" you whimper. His cum falls down so gracefully and then he turns you over. "That's right, you're my good girl, no one else's." He looks at his leash and smirks. "If my mam saw me like this, her little boy leashed like the animal he is," he chuckles, "oh she'd be disappointed." he kisses your neck. "But so as long as I'm your good pup, huh, my love," he kisses your lips so carefully. His big arms embrace you warmly, and he rubs his scent on you again this way. You know it and he does too.

"Say you love me, R/N," he whispers as his head is buried in your breasts. "I love you, Johnny," you whisper back and scratch the back of his head. He smiles, "I love you too," he kisses your chest and takes in your intoxicating scent.

Tags :@anonymuslydumb @liyanahelena @vampsquerade @sevvygirl1995 @sleepydang @amygaster004 @alxexhearts

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

What is Angel Dusts relationship with the other V’s? What do they think of him and vice versa?

tw // mentions of abuse

They are no friends, that's for sure.

With Velvette, things are definitely better. They spent some time together when she designed costumes for his shows, or when he walked her runways as a guest star. Of course, he dislikes her because she is best friends with his abuser and enables Valentino's behavior as much as Vox does. Yet, in his life before the hotel, anyone who wasn't intentionally cruel to him was considered a friendly face. He appreciates Velvette's Girlboss attitude and when things between him and Val were better and Velvette wasn't blaming Angel for Val's mood swings, they could have an enjoyable gossip sessions. Especially when he was high and it was easy to forget that she literally sells roofies people use against him.

I believe Velvette never fully regarded Angel as a human, always seeing him as Valentino's toy. She finds abusing him unnecessary. This isn't to say she's above abuse; for her, there's just no satisfaction in hurting someone who is already broken—it's a waste of time. Moreover, she has no reason to do so because, to her Angel is not threatening. She sometimes enjoy spending time with him because she recognizes that he's funny, charming and chaotic while also having great taste. Simultaneously she despises him for his "weakness" and thinks he's foolish for falling for Valentino, believing he deserves his miserable life. Yet, she somewhat wishes Valentino would let him go, as Angel is a constant source of tension for him and that affects all the Vees. For her, Angel isn't worth the fuss.

Angel is absolutely terrified of Vox. When he realized that Vox and Valentino were together, he understood that as soon as Valentino would stop caring enough to keep him alive, Vox—the jealous sadist—will end his life in the most painful way possible. He is well aware that Vox enjoys every second of his abuse, evidenced by the cameras in Angel's dressing room, and that he rewards Valentino for it. Despite no longer loving Valentino, Angel remembers how it felt to love him, and it pains him to see that Valentino can be good to someone else but chose not to be good to him; he mourns the relationship they could have had if only he hadn't signed the contract and had tried to be Valentino's partner instead. Not that he wishes to have any relationship with Val anymore, it's just his big "what if".

Vox despises Angel solely for the amount of attention he receives from Valentino. Nothing else matters to him; he doesn't even acknowledge any of Angel's traits that he could dislike. Angel is simply an object diverting Valentino's attention away from Vox and, therefore, must be eliminated. Vox doesn't exert much effort in actively creating opportunities to harass Angel (since he can't do what he truly wants to him anyway), but if an opportunity arises, he will seize it to make Angel's life significantly worse, always with a polite smile.