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lacedcompulsion · 10 days ago

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FLATLANDS

Hotch sends you and Spencer to Iowa to conduct a death row interview with an inmate. Thing is, there's not much to do in Iowa but fuck.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

tags/warnings: 18+, wc: 5.9k, whew, smut, porn w plot, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, soft-dom spencer ish, biting, praise kink, this is so self-indulgent muahahaha, discussions of a case, but nothing too bad it's canon typical stuff, iowa hate idgaf!!, drinking/getting drunk, i think that's it!

notes: this is likeeee. one of my first times writing longer smut. also i did in fact say i would re-upload old re-worked fics before posting anything new but alas! i am a liar! here is something brand new! i spent like. 9 straight hours on this yesterday. and it is currently almost 8 am and i just spent all night finishing it up instead of sleeping. ALSO i am in fact a philosophy major (future barista moment) and my fics get soooo. philosophy-esque. like. every single time. i'm sorry... i am who i am.

If you had to remove one state from the contiguous union, it would be Iowa.

You’re standing in a rusty hotel room, which, according to Hotch, is the best they could do to accommodate you. And Spencer. He’s one room over. Your feet vibrate against the rug. You tell yourself it’s the thought of him, one wall over — thinking, sitting, reading, whatever he’s doing — and not some rare kind of bacteria you’re going to catch from the stink of this place.

Hotch sent you and Reid here for a death row interview. One of the inmates, having spent the past seventeen years as a self-proclaimed monk, decided he was done with silence. He answered the bureau’s request for an interview in a letter addressed to Hotch’s desk, written in red ink. It’s your first prison interview — you usually wear the bad guys down before they’re locked away forever — but Spencer has done one or two, he said. You think it might be more.

You’d never been to Iowa, never had a case here. You’re not great with time off, even worse with real vacations. You don’t look out your window for fear the corn fields have gotten closer since you last peeked through the curtains. You swear you can see twenty miles out; the flatness makes it easy to mistake the horizon for something that never, ever ends.

You’re picking at the skin of your fingernails, toes curled as they still rest but resist against the carpet, when there’s a knock at your door. You don’t check, because you’re not really fearful. It might make you a shitty FBI agent, but you doubt anyone is tracking you down in Iowa. (Iowa. It gets worse each time you think it.)

“Hi,” Spencer says, lips pulled flat. Flat. You think of fields. Corn. Emptiness. Your stomach churns then lurches when you think of your own bed in your own home in a state that has real hills and mountains and trees.

“Hi.”

“Thought you might want to look over the file before tomorrow?” He frames it like a question, and you offer a soft smile at his hesitancy before opening the door to let him in. He turns his body to the left to avoid making contact with you as he accepts the invitation and walks on through.

Your bed is still made, your suitcase resting on top of it. He scrunches his nose before recovering.

“I’m not a germaphobe, like someone we both know,” you mock.

“Maybe you should be.” You laugh. You’ve been his teammate for three years now, and it still gets you when he decides he can lighten up and make a joke.

He looks around, still awkward in the yellow tint of the hotel lamp, then decides to sit in the desk chair in the corner.

“You look so ominous,” you say, shaking your head as you pull the file out of the nightstand.

“Why is your casefile in there?”

“Where do you keep yours?”

“I never put it away.”

“Checks out,” you say, raising your eyebrows and sitting criss-crossed on the edge of your bed, facing him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gary Foster,” you read off the top of the page, ignoring his bait. “Killed twenty-three women in his basement. His wife never knew.”

“Or claims she didn’t know,” Spencer corrects.

“You think she did?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter what I think.”

You glance up at him to find him staring intently at the file in his hands. He’s gripping onto it like it’s all he knows. You store your observations away in your head under a tab titled Perhaps Ask Later.

You’ve gone over this file a dozen times. It’s virtually seared into your memory. Still, you let him tack off the rest of the information to you, compile the intensive profile Hotch gave you into a bullet point list.

“He’s gonna focus on me,” you say once he reaches a lull in speech.

“Because you’re a woman?” he confirms. You nod. “Maybe.”

You tap the file a few times with your fingers as a yawn creeps up your throat, threatening to escape. Spencer seems to get the hint before you even let it out.

“We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” he says before standing. He takes a step forward before turning around and tucking the chair back into the desk. You smile at the politeness. “See you tomorrow?”

“Is that a question?” you tease as you lead him to the door. “I promise I won’t jump out of the window.”

“There’s not much out there.”

“No, there isn’t.” He fumbles with the key for the door across the hall. You wait for him to open it before you start to close yours, the way you would after driving a friend at home. “Night.”

“Night,” he says, though the latter half of the word is muffled by the shut of the door.

The room is barren again. You open the curtains now that it’s nearing total darkness outside.

It takes six more hours for you to drift off into sleep.

–

Your hand is immediately on your temple when you awake, rubbing at the budding headache you know will consume you once you get up. This is the punishment you get for allowing yourself only three hours of sleep.

The sunlight hits your bed in fluttering intervals of perfect warmth and scorching heat. This time, when the hindmost rolls around, you force yourself up and place your feet on the ground. You hold your tongue to refrain from releasing a long string of fucks and shits and realize your hand is still refusing to move from its spot rubbing circles in your face. When you make your way to the bathroom, you realize the bed is so hard you’ve left no indent.

The sting of the shower is pelting, boiling enough that it feels purifying. After a night spent in sheets you’re sure dozens have sweat through, it’s more than welcome. The heat is the perfect substrate for the anticipatory dread of today’s interview. Speaking to monsters as if there’s a hint of human behind the stitching has never pulled at you in the right way.

If anything, it’s slowly pulled you apart.

The outlet in your bathroom is broken so you’re forced to dry your hair sitting on the carpet of the room, right next to that window that stares out into nowhere. You feel itchy just sitting on it. You swear the fibers are pressing into your skin, merging with your skin.

The file is open on the floor in front of you, and you use your thumb to wipe the water falling from your damp hair. The pages already begin to curdle like the feeling in your stomach.

You put your hair in a ponytail, then worry it’s too sexual — because you’ve absorbed the profile and you know what earns a check on this guys list —- so you take it down and let it rest on your shoulders again. Your knees crack when you stand up and your hip tenses up like it might, too, when you slip your legs into your pants.

There’s a knock on your door and you mutter fuck as you balance your time between finishing the rest of the buttons on your blouse and stumbling to the door.

“I need a couple minutes,” you say, before you say hello. You leave the door open as you retreat farther into the room. “You can wait in here.”

You squeeze your feet into your heels — half a size too small, and in your head you call the saleslady who insisted on that being necessary for this brand a word that would make your grandmother sour — and peripherally watch him step into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You ready?” he asks. You can feel his eyes on your unmade bed.

“Mhm.” You glance in the square mirror facing the bed and smooth out your clothes.

“I mean for the interview,” he says after clearing his throat.

“My answer remains.”

“Cool.” He says it in the way that feels fraudulent, but is really just the way he speaks, you’ve come to realize.

“Are you ready?” you ask back, muffled by the file placed between your teeth as you fumble around your desk for your car keys and room card. You make eye contact with him as you head for the door.

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

“Stand up straight,” you say, holding the door open for him as you both step into the hallway.

“What?” he mutters. He does it anyway.

“He’s gonna zero in on you if you seem to lack confidence.”

“Right.”

It’s silence between you two in the hallway, the elevator, the lobby, and until you’re pulling out of the parking lot. There’s overgrown wheatgrass in the field to your left and plowed corn crop to your right. The furrows stretch on until the curve of the earth swallows them up.

The sky is dull, slate-colored, and bears striking resemblance to something that could wipe you clean. Grain silos whir by every couple of minutes. These people really own a lot of fucking land. Every few miles, a new one, along with a rusting tractor or collapsing barn or crop that looks about ready to dry up and blow away. It gets predictable after mile seven.

The prison doesn’t appear so much as it settles into your vision. It’s low to the ground, sprawling, gray. A scar pressed into the ground.

You feel like Spencer the way you’ve completely memorized the profile. You flash your badge at the gate, sign some kind of form and drive into a parking lot that feels as far from the prison as your hotel was.

Spencer lingers in the car two seconds after you get out. He’s nervous, and he’s trying not to show it. You don’t want to mention it, but you need to be on the same page, so you don’t stop your lips from unfurling.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The anxious math,” you say. “You’re calculating the probability of saying the wrong thing before we even walk in.”

“That’s-” He seems to think better than arguing and redirects his sentence. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

You give him one of those closed lip smiles. “He’ll spot it in five seconds. He feeds on nerves like that. First, he’ll comment on your hands, because you fidget when you’re trying not to.”

“You sound like Hotch.”

You scoff out a half-laugh and choose to ignore the comment otherwise. “And he’ll ask how long you’ve known me. If we’re sleeping together. He won’t say it like that, of course. He’ll be crude. He wants to gauge what version of you shows up when you’re off-balance.”

“Why would that knock me off balance?” he asks. The hesitancy has stolen his tone again.

“You fluster easily.”

“Do I?”

“Mhm. You blink three times, touch your collar, and then deflect with statistics. You did it the first time I challenged you during a case.”

He tuts then holds the door of the prison open for you. “You’re profiling me.”

“Of course I am,” you say, then turn your head over your shoulder, waiting for him to walk back up beside you again. He’s close behind you, so close you can almost feel his breath on you. It makes you feel warm. “So will he.”

You greet two more guards inside before shaking hands with the warden. He thanks you for coming with that grim look on his face that everyone in this field seems to have permanently etched into the creases of their skin. The prison is colder inside than it has any right to be, as if the concrete has learned to hold onto every winter it’s ever survived.

“Still nervous?” you whisper to Spencer.

He smiles, shakes his head no.

Good, you mouth.

You pretend not to notice his eyes fixate for a beat longer than necessary on your lips. You lick them in response. When he meets your eyes again, you pretend not to notice that something undecipherable is hidden behind his lids, too.

��

Foster smiles when you walk in. He doesn’t look at Spencer. You let Spencer pull your chair out for you, which immediately catches the guy’s attention. You think of still water, use it as a guide for being calm.

“Well,” Foster says. He hasn’t dropped the smile from his face. “They sent a good-looking one.”

“We, the FBI, are really grateful you chose to cooperate with us,” you say. “You know, in your final days.”

“Hm.” He turns to Spencer, finally. “She yours?”

You don’t look at him, and you will him to ignore him, to start asking him the standard questions. What’s your name? What year were you born?

“She’s her own,” he says instead. It comes out even and flat.

“You hesitated,” Foster says. His smile shows his teeth, now. “I suppose that’s not a crime.”

“No,” you agree. You open your file and lay a picture of his mugshot on the table. You can tell he was expecting photos of one of the women whose life he stole away. “But murder is.”

Spencer clears his throat and nudges your ankle with the tip of his shoe. You give him no reaction, but the next time you reach for the file, you let your fingertips brush against his wrist.

—

“That wasn’t awful,” Spencer says when you step out, though he says it like he’s releasing one big breath born out of a collection of accumulated air trapped in his lungs.

Foster did say something crude. You’d prefer not to repeat it, mostly because you’re not sure if Spencer was blushing or if he was just hot.

The prison was freezing, you remind yourself. Then you shove the thought back down.

“It wasn’t great,” you say. “I wish I’d pushed him further about—”

“Stop,” he says. His hand is on your bicep now. “Don’t overthink it, you did great.”

“Okay,” you say. “Don’t profile me, now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The walk back to the car leaves you sticky and hot. You note, aimlessly, that Iowa gets hot enough if you let it — if you stay long enough to let it swelter.

“Our flight’s not till the morning,” you groan, slamming the car door shut.

“Not a fan of Iowa?”

“In how many languages do you know how to say fuck no?”

“Twelve," he says. His eyes flit to the ceiling. “No, fourteen.”

“Ridiculous.”

—

You crash as soon as you get back to your hotel room. You sleep for what feels like two hours but you know is way longer than that, and when you finally peel your eyes open you’re sweating. You’re clinging to your sheets, and you consider yourself bed-ridden as you roll over and check your phone. Hotch has sent you three messages asking for updates. Your stomach twinges with guilt for not answering, though you figure he probably moved on and texted Spencer.

Spencer.

You feel bad. You had ditched him, retreating to your hotel room the second you guys got back. You wonder what he did, if he got food, though there’s not much to do in Iowa. In fact, there’s nothing to do in Iowa.

You slip out of your clothes and take a quick rinse-off in the shower. Your hair is still wet when you adorn yourself in a gray t-shirt and sleep shorts and creep over across the hall. Your fist raps against the door three times, then twice more for good measure.

“Hi?”

“Hi,” you say, inviting yourself in as you push past him. It’s identical to yours, but everything’s on the opposite side. “Nice room.”

“Much nicer than yours.”

“Oh, for sure.” You clap your hands together, then flop down on the bed. “So, whatcha been up to?”

He nods his head at a book on the nightstand. You stretch over and pick it up. The History of Iowa’s Small Towns.

“Little on the nose, isn’t it, doctor?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Your mind amazes me,” you whisper, then place it back on the nightstand.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

“I’m not really hungry,” you say. When he quirks his eyebrow, you add: “Really, I can’t eat for, like, at least two hours after I wake up.”

“You were asleep?”

You nod. “Couldn’t last night. You didn’t think I just ditched you, did you?”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

You place a hand over your heart. “Well, doctor, I’m just plain offended.”

He smiles, real, genuine. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How’d you mean it?” you ask. You move up on the bed, as if it’s your own, making space for him to sit next to you.

He sighs, like he really doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation, but his lips pry open and you know he will. “Morgan always says I ramble too much.”

You shrug. “What’s much, anyway?”

“Well, if you’re not hungry,” he starts, lifting himself off the bed and over to the mini fridge, “are you thirsty?”

“My, my.” You smile, teeth and all. “I didn’t know you drank on the job.”

“Not technically on the job anymore, am I?” He holds up a little bottle. “It’s not exactly a martini, but it’s all I’ve got unless you want lukewarm ginger ale.”

You accept the bottle with mock ceremony and open it the second it’s in your hands. “Guess federal per diems only cover motel whiskey. Honestly, this is probably the classiest thing happening in Iowa tonight.”

He laughs softly, twisting open his own cap. “From what I’ve read, and seen, that’s a low bar.”

You raise yours. “To meeting the bar.”

He tilts his head, scrunches his nose. “To stepping over the bar with minimal effort.”

You both take a sip. It’s terrible. You make a face.

He sees it and raises an eyebrow. “Too refined for hotel whiskey?”

“Just surprised it didn’t come with a warning label,” you say, setting the bottle down on the nightstand. “Or a tetanus shot.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, taking another sip of his. “I’m sure the Iowa Department of Health is on it.”

You nod solemnly. “They’re probably just as fast as the Wi-Fi.”

That gets a small smile from him. He sits on the edge of the bed, a little closer than before, but still careful. He’s always so careful.

There’s a lull, full of quiet until the nighttime air-conditioning kicks on and you’re too tired to pretend anything really matters for a while.

“You ever drink from the mini bar before? Like, during a case?” you ask eventually.

“Only when I expect to be stranded somewhere like this.”

“Smart,” you say.

He glances at you, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t profile your way out of a cornfield without it.”

You hum in agreement. “I’m not sure if that’s depressing.”

He shrugs, taking another sip. “Probably.” His hand falls to his side, dangerously close to your thigh.

You accept another one. And then another one. You’re sure he’s going shot for shot with you, but you can’t really tell because your head is full and everything’s hazy and suddenly this bed is so, so comfortable.

You lie back, legs still dangling off the edge, and stare up at the popcorn ceiling like it might reveal state secrets. “Did you know Iowa had one of the highest populations of covered bridges?”

Spencer blinks. “Iowa doesn’t.”

You squint. “It doesn’t?”

“No,” he says, amused. “That’s Madison County. Which is in Iowa. But it’s a specific — actually, nevermind. I’m not sure either of us are in a state for nuance.”

You wag a lazy finger at the ceiling. “I knew that.”

“Sure,” he says, and leans back beside you with a soft thud, hands crossed over his stomach. “Next you’ll tell me Iowa invented jazz.”

“It didn’t?” You cant your head to the side, a smile playing at your lips.

“God, no.”

You sigh dramatically. “And here I thought this trip was educational.”

He turns his head just slightly toward you. His breath is hot, hotter than it was earlier, and his words are all slurred. You think you might sound the same but don’t keep yourself in line long enough to actually check. “You’ve learned a lot. For example, you’ve learned not to trust the minibar.”

“And that your idea of a good time is reading municipal histories.”

“I sensed you were captivated.”

You pull an arm over your face. “Do you always get this cocky after drinking?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely thinking about it. “I think I just feel safe knowing I’m not the only one embarrassing myself.”

You haul a leg up to bend into the bed with you and nudge him with your knee. “You’re not embarrassing. You’re weird. Like, in the good way.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he finally says: “Thanks. You’re weird too.”

“Weird and drunk.” You repeat the word drunk a few more times, drawing out a different syllable each time. “Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t let me fall asleep here.”

“You say that like I have any control over you,” he murmurs. Your breath catches. Neither of you move.

You peek at him from under your arm. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What?”

“Whatever. Then don’t speak with that— that tone. Or I’ll start to think you’re flirting with me.”

“I’m not really flirting with you.”

You let the arm drop, but not to the mattress; it finds its way to the sleeve of his shirt, playing with the fabric. “Not really or not yet?”

“That depends,” he says, voice dropped low to a whisper. “Would yet be a problem?”

You roll onto your elbow, looming over him. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

It lands like a match.

“What are you doing?” he asks. Your lips are the closest they’ve ever been.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes move to where his hand has started to creep onto your thigh. “What are you doing?”

He moves first, but only barely. His head tilts up, lips parting like he’s about to ask a question.

He gets his answer in the shape of your lips.

Your hand finds the edge of his jaw, fingers skimming up the side of his face. He’s warm. Still flushed from the whiskey or maybe just from you.

You’re kissing, you think. You. Spencer. Kissing. It should make you pull back. You work with him. This is strictly forbidden — that should definitely make you pull back.

But then his fingers press into your hips, grounding you, and you shift, and you’re straddling him before you’ve thought it through. It’s automatic, desperate, like the tension finally cracked open and all that’s left is the pull.

“Still not on the job?” you murmur between kisses, breath brushing his lips.

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

He starts to kiss you deeper, like he wants to memorize it. You wonder if he is. Your hands move up under his shirt, and his breath slips, just for a second. Just long enough to make you smile into his mouth.

There’s nothing quiet about any of this. Just heat. And want. And finally.

You roll your hips once as a test. When he tightens his grip on you, you have half the mind to do it again, and again, and again.

Suddenly, all you can think of are your clothes on the ground and him inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. You release his lips from yours.

“Fuck?”

“Shh,” he hushes, trying to silence you, but you’re already laughing.

“Oh my god, Dr. Spencer Reid, esteemed supervisory special agent, holder of three PhDs, just said fuck.” You whisper the last part, hand clutching at your chest.

“Will you please resume what we were just doing?”

“My fucking pleasure.”

“Jesus,” he squeezes out. Your hands remove themselves from where they were resting under his shirt and head to the waist of his pants. You watch his chest rise a little quicker, fall with a little more readiness. His hands release your hips and come up to grip your wrists. “I say fuck one time and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Maybe we can put it in another context.” You unhook your legs from their desired place around his hips and scooch yourself down his body. Your fingers, which were just barely, ever so delicately toying with his waistband, curl into both the cotton of his pants and his boxers and tug down at once. He helps you, hips coming off the bed just enough for you to drop them both to his ankles.

He’s already hard, and your mouth is already hollow, already anticipating something to fill a long-lasting void. You say his name, but it sounds off, because your mouth is already imagining itself wrapped around something far less innocent than words.

His hand comes up to your face, brushing your cheekbone, and the feeling is too soft to name but impossible to ignore. You feel as though all the heat in the room has gotten sucked between your legs, and it pools low, desire biting at the edges of restraint.

“You don’t have to,” he says, watching you spit in your hand. You roll your eyes before wrapping the newly wet hand around him.

“I’m going to. Just stay like that.”

You stroke him softly, just a few times before spitting on the tip and working it back down. He whispers your name like its wax, made to melt. You’re not thinking and your voice is velvet when you ask him how long it’s been since he’s been touched like this, the way he deserves to be. Too long, comes his response, and you vow to yourself to show him what he’s been missing.

The next time you bring your lips up to release more spit, you reach down and kiss it. Just the tip, and just ever-so-slightly. You’re not sure he noticed at first, so you do it again, this time more pronounced, and then he’s removing his hand from your face and bringing it up to your hair. His grip is firm enough to anchor, not enough to command.

When you open your lips more, he tightens his grip. When you make your way down, syrup-slick and mouth dripping of sin, he coils his want at the nape of your neck and pulls. You moan around him, which earns you another tug.

“That feels good,” he whispers. “So fucking good.”

You’re drunk enough that the praise feels more than trembling and temporary. You take it for more than it probably is and pick up your pace.

He lasts not a minute longer before he’s guiding you off of him, and you couch as you come up for air.

“I don’t want to finish yet,” he mumbles.

“No?”

“No.” He pulls you up off the ground, one hand on your wrist and the other still in your hair. “Wanna take care of you too. Do you want that? Yeah? Lie down for me.”

You do as you're told, nodding along the way, agreeing fervently and with little free will. You’re drooling, enough that it slips past your lips. He brings his index finger up to your face, collecting it on the pad of his finger and pushing it back into your mouth. Instinctively, you suck. He groans, low, a noise you never would have expected to hear from him, and it makes you shut your legs, thighs rubbing together slightly as you try to fight the feeling festering around your limbs.

He kneels before you, the same way you had with him. “Is this what you want?” You nod. “No, use your words.” He pries your legs open, blows between them.

Your back is coming up off the bed, enough for him to bring a hand up and grab your waist again. “Yes.”

He wastes little time attaching his mouth to you, tongue everywhere, while his fingers leave bruises in your side. One of your hands is gripping the sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails digging into your palm even through it. This can’t be real, you think, because nothing real feels this good. And this feels so, so good.

You feel fucked out and he hasn’t even put anything inside of you. It’s just his tongue swiping against you, swirling around your clit, sucking your clit, kissing your clit. You can’t think. At some time you stop being aware of what he’s doing and just let him do it.

His hand leaves your hip and you feel it pulse, throbbing at the loss of harsh connection. Then, he forces your fist to open, to release the white fabric, and he locks your fingers together. It feels intimate, more intimate than his mouth on you, and if you were sober you might have shrugged him away. But you’re not. You’re drunk. Very drunk. So instead you hold his hand harder.

His free hand is trailing along your thigh, and when you glance down at him his eyes are closed, and he looks content, satisfied, and you’re not sure you ever want to unfold from this position. He uses his other hand to trail up and down your thigh before his errant fingers find their way farther up your legs.

When he slips two inside you, both at once, no warning, you mewl.

He detaches his mouth from you, like he wants to focus solely on finger fucking you. When you glance down at him again, he gives you a perfunctory smile before focusing back at the task he’s chosen to take up. He’s practically gift-wrapping your orgasm.

“Right there,” you choke out when his fingers curl at the exact right moment in the exact right spot. You don’t announce that you’re coming, but Spencer is a genius. You’re sure he can figure it out. Everything comes undone in waves, the way seafoam spits back into the sand before dissipating, carrying itself back out into a vaster part of the water.

“Good job,” he says. He kisses you. You can taste your slick on his lips.

“Spencer.”

“You’ve said that already.” You’d laugh if you weren’t so unraveled. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“What did we say about using our words?”

“To… use them?”

“You’re so smart,” he says, and you can hear him breathing in the way that means he’s trying not to laugh as he presses scattered kisses across your cheek, jaw, lips. “Can you speak up and show me how smart you are?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Knew you had it in you.” One of his hands is pressed into the mattress next to your head, and the other is absent from your body. When you finally open your eyes, you look down to see him lining himself up with you.

There’s a pinch in your throat as you feel him ease himself inside, slowly, deliberately, like he’s scared you might crumble and break beneath him. You won’t, which you assure him by using one hand to grab onto his bicep and the other to rest on his hip, guiding him all the way inside of you.

"I got so mad, earlier," he says. "When he was talking about you like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he whispers. "Don't fucking apologize."

The heat is back, swirling in your stomach, rushing up your chest like every vein you have has replaced blood with feverish fire. Spencer throws more gasoline on it when he slides almost all the way out, then pushes himself back in. You’re quiet, and even the air around you seems to have hushed itself.

When he finds a rhythm, he takes advantage of it. Fucks you a little harder, just enough that you can’t close your mouth, can’t quiet yourself even when you try. You’re trying to tread carefully, but you don’t have it in you to not tip your chin up and search for a kiss. You move your other hand to wrap around his forearm, the one right next to your head, and you can’t stop yourself from digging your nails into the skin when he gives you one particularly hard thrust.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

“This?” he asks, though it’s more of a mock. He does it again, this time a little slower. You feel like crying, because you have no other outlet for what exactly it is you’re currently feeling. When he does it again you have no choice but to squeeze your eyes shut. He kisses you again, idly, like you’ve got all the time in the world. You’re not sure you have more than five minutes in you before you pass out. “You feel so good.”

“Needed you.”

“Yeah?” he says. Your words seem to have made him snap his hips against yours a little harder.

He uses one of his hands to grab under your thigh, then pushes your leg up. You let out a broken moan you don’t even register as your own until he stretches you farther apart and you do it again. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t clawing at an indescribable edge. You feel ripe. Nothing holy is coming for you. You arch your back like it might.

"Mine." He says it while looking down at you. He says it with his chest. He says it like it's an absolute.

You bring your hand to the back of his neck and make him kiss you. Once for the thrill, twice just to feel the burn of it really settle in.

Then you come. And everything else does, too. It’s unraveling. Not fingers but friction, not skin but static, not breath but flood. The room is slipping sideways, hips first, mouth second. you forget your name or maybe you give it away. There's no shape to anything, to the sting between your legs, only pulse — wet, reckless, existing in the hollows of your thighs. When he bends down and lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like your name, your teeth catch on his shoulder like a warning. He doesn’t flinch. You bite down harder.

Nothing makes sense for a while except the sound of the air-conditioner.

Spencer says something. Then again. Then, he taps your cheek twice, says your name until you come to.

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

“‘m okay. Are you okay?”

He laughs. It’s quiet and hoarse and still warm. “Yes ma’am.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Hmm what?’

“I like that. We’ll use that ‘nother time.” You let out a heavy sigh as he chuckles. He slips out of you and you suck in a breath that catches in the pockets of your teeth, cold and shocking against the roof of your mouth.

“Sorry.” You shake your head and hope it conveys that he has nothing to apologize for. He rolls over next to you. “You should pee.”

“Pee schmee.”

“I think I’m gonna retract my previous statements about your high level of intelligence now.” You smack him with your hand and laugh, hearty and probably too loud.

“I’m still drunk,” you say after a few more moments of silence.

“I think that’s how that whole drinking thing works, yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” His answer comes quicker than you were expecting.

“Okay. Me neither. Just checking.” You blow hair out of your face, and when that doesn’t work you bring a palm up and use the strength of four fingers to wipe it away from the sweat gathering in satin sheets across your skin. “I hate this room.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper.

“Well,” he whispers back. “I don’t hate you either.”

“Do you wanna maybe… I don’t know. Not be on the job tomorrow morning?”

It might just be the alcohol, but his expression is soft and lush, like when dawn’s light shudders through early morning fog.

“I would like that.”

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dollishmehrayan · 2 months ago

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# “I NEED YOUR LOVING, LIKE THE SUNSHINE, EVERYONE’S GOT TO LEARN SOMETIME.” ── .✦ ( batboys when they have a crush on you ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: yes this is based off that one korgis song and if you know it, your elite marry me immediately anywayss I need like more cute events to do omgg and guys I’m going to look for a new divider edition but the bunny will always stay don’t worryyy tags: (batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s so obvious. Everyone knows. Even villains probably know, even you probably know but we always play hard to get. (that’s js me sorry)

Overly casual compliments: “Wow, you look… good. Like, really good. Is that new? No? I just never noticed how great you always look??”

Purposely hangs around you way more than necessary. “Oh wow, fancy seeing you here again... at this coffee shop... at this exact time... for the fifth time this week…”, “uh.. sure okay dick.”

Gets physically flustered. You smile at him and he bumps into a wall.

Brings you little gifts like coffee, snacks, or something you mentioned once two months ago that he totally remembered.

Accidentally lets it slip to Barbara. You find out two days later because she’s evil (and supportive). GIRL BOSSSSS

RASON RODD (IF YKYK) ── .✦

Denies it to everyone. Even himself. “Me? Crushing? Pfft. Please. I'm just being nice. I’m always this nice. Shut up.”

Acts all chill and tough but turns into a sarcastic teddy bear when you're around.

Tries not to care but notices everything about you like when you’re tired, upset, or need space.

Gets really protective, then downplays it. “Yeah I threatened that guy because he was being annoying. Not because he was flirting with you. Nope.” ( our little nonchalant guy )

Will read/watch your favorite stuff in secret so he can talk about it with you, then pretends he hated it. “No, I didn’t like it. But the plot twist in episode 7 was wild. Just sayin’.”

Probably punches a wall the first time someone calls him out. Literally everyone in the family: “Just ask them out already.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Has a million tabs open on “how to tell if someone likes you back.”

Obsesses over every text you send. Sends a reply. Deletes it. Writes a better one. Deletes that too. Eventually sends “lol yeah same” and regrets it instantly.

Runs into you and forgets how to function for 3 seconds. “Hey—hi—hey. Sorry. I mean. Hello.”

Will research your interests so he can impress you or casually bring them up. “Oh, you’re into ___? I read a couple papers about that, super cool stuff.”

Accidentally calls you “cute” in passing, then vanishes for two days to a point you wonder if he might appear on the missing website thing.

You find out he has a playlist called “maybe someday” and the first song is something painfully romantic.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends he doesn’t like you. Like, aggressively. But it’s so obvious.

Gives you weirdly thoughtful gifts and says things like, “I noticed you were using inferior supplies.”

Blushes if you compliment him. Denies he’s blushing. “Tt. The temperature is simply warm.”

Subtly changes his schedule to be around you more. He’ll be in the library when you’re there, in the gym at the same time it’s definitely not a coincidence (even though he insists it is).

Draws you. Like, sketches. Constantly. Says it’s “for anatomy practice.”

Acts annoyed when you talk to someone else, then pouts in a corner like a feral cat.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

He doesn’t even realize it at first. It hits him out of nowhere, like genuinely out of thin air.

Brooding increases by 200%. He stares off into space, thinking about you, and Alfred has to snap him out of it.

Becomes awkwardly formal. “Would you… perhaps… like to join me for dinner? I understand if that’s… inconvenient.” ( like despite being a former player and all and smoothhh as hell when he genuinely likes someone he can’t be smooth, your like his Andrea beaumont but if they worked out )

Totally asks Alfred for advice. Alfred gives him the same advice he gave him at 16.

When you smile at him, he short-circuits a little. You get a rare, soft Bat-smile in return.

Once he’s sure of his feelings, he’s all in but oh boy, it takes a while.

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outer-andromeda · 4 months ago

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Okay. Not much new art, but more story-related stuff for this post.

I want to try and dive into how Doey and Gabby's relationship is after the events of Chapter 4 because there's... Potential. For some good ol' angst.

Kissy is missing from this post but I'd like to develop stuff with her too, ESPECIALLY her non-verbal communication aspect. I think it'd be really interesting if both her and Gabby learned ASL together so that they could both understand each other better.

Gave Ava a sort of more fleshed out design. Then later realized I basically gave her one of my siblings personality and I think that's hilarious. And of course I'm gonna keep it that way.

Since Gabby is a self-insert per say, I've gotta make it work with the OG plot of the story since he's too young to be an ex-employee of the factory :'))) (he's also French like I am... Which could result in some funny moments imo lmao) (I also REALLY need to change his name because I don't want him to be named like me so I've gotta work on that too)

Here's how he was before the events of PPT !

(Calling this the "Big Bro & Kids Shenanigans" AU because... Why not. I just like the name to be completely honest. But I'm open to name suggestions!)

#my art #big bro & kids shenanigans au #poppy playtime #ppt #poppy playtime chapter 4 #poppy playtime spoilers #doey the doughman #kevin barnes #matthew allard #smiling critters #hoppy hopscotch #self insert

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v6quewrlds · 5 months ago

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DOCTOR'S ORDERS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀9.6k.

summary⠀⁎⠀between petty fights and an abnormal level of clinginess, you're at your wit's end with joe's recent behavior. who would've known that ja'marr could crack the code before you?

author's note⠀⁎⠀combined a couple of different requests into one. collection of scenes more than a real plot? struggled with the smut so pls forgive me if it sucks. i have zero medical training, pls don't yell at me. warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, established relationship, married couple fights, one (1) communism joke, joe can't shut up when he's in love syndrome, teasing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), joey talks you through it <3

Slumped shoulders and tired sighs filled the still air of their Cincinnati home as you and Joe crossed the threshold just ten minutes apart. Words remained limited to the necessary as you greeted each other for the first time that evening, the clock hanging over the front door reading 6:45 PM. The crisp smell of antiseptic and hand sanitizer mingled with the lingering scent of Joe's familiar deodorant and cologne.

You padded down the hallway to your room, heels in hand, eager to shed your work clothes and scrub the clinical office off your skin. You hadn't seen Joe in what felt like days, your paths only crossing at night, a brief intermission in your chaotic schedules. Between your patients and his training, the time you had together was a blur of tired half-sentences and fleeting kisses.

Mindlessly, you stripped out of your white coat and knee-length dress, tossing them onto the chair by the door. The sound of the fabric hitting the wood was a welcome release of the day's tension. You stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower knob, letting the water heat up. You heard Joe's footsteps approaching, the soft thud of his sock-covered feet entering your bedroom.

You lathered away at your brown skin, softly humming a tune that had been stuck in your head all day. The warm water cascaded over you, the steam wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, and Joe's large frame filled the doorway. You paid him no attention, assuming he was just checking in before heading back to the bedroom to answer some emails, settle into bed, and mentally prepare himself for his media obligations tomorrow afternoon.

To your surprise, Joe didn't retreat. He stepped closer to the shower, his blue eyes squinting at you through the foggy glass, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "I need a shower too, babe. Can you hurry?" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

You rolled your eyes, holding back before answering him. "I had a full schedule today," you retorted, your voice echoing off the tiles. "You got home before me. Did you not get one in at the facility?"

Joe leaned against the sink, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "No, I wanted to shower at home." He tried to play it cool, but the hint of irritation in his voice was unmistakable. It was one of his rare flaws, the inability to hide his emotions when it came to inconveniences.

You reached for your exfoliating sponge, the sweet scent of your body scrub filling the small space. "Baby," you began, your voice firm yet tired. "I'm almost done. You could've used one of the other bathrooms."

Joe's sigh grew heavier, the frustration in his eyes evident. "It's not the same, all my stuff is in here," he said, his voice tight. "Why are you taking so long? Just hurry up."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance flicker within you. You had been looking forward to this shower, the one thing you could control after a long day of treating patients and navigating the chaos of your new practice. "Joe, I’ve been seeing patients all day. Can't you wait five more minutes?" you snapped, your voice bouncing off the shower walls.

He stepped closer, his expression unyielding. "Five minutes turns into ten, turns into twenty," he said, his voice flat. "I'm exhausted, babe. I just want to get clean."

You felt a twinge of guilt, but you stood your ground. "I've been looking forward to this shower all day," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and weariness. "You could've just told me you needed to get in first."

Joe grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, pacing for a minute before yanking off his clothes. You felt the cooler air of the bathroom flood the shower before you realized what he was doing. You squealed as Joe stepped in behind you, large hands reaching for your shampoo as if disregarding your personal space.

"Joey," you whined, your pout deepening as the shower suddenly felt much smaller. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, ignoring the tone of your voice to deliver a straightforward answer. "What does it look like? We're sharing."

The initial shock gave way to a playful scoff from you as you turned to face him, your eyes glinting with amusement despite your earlier irritation. "You're serious?"

Joe nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he squeezed past you to stand under the water. "Deadly," he said, "If you’re good, I might even scrub your back for you."

You rolled your eyes, gently nudging him away from the direct shower of the steamy water. "You can’t hijack my shower, Joe. That’s not how this works," you said with a huff.

Joe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he stepped closer to you, the water now spraying you both. "I'm not hijacking, I'm sharing," he said, his hands reaching for your very expensive, tropical-scented shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into his large, open palm. "Like we learned in preschool?"

You didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on scrubbing your extended arms. You felt Joe's amused chuckle reverberate through his chest as he lathered his hair, the suds cascading over his shoulders and down his torso.

Sensing your irritation, Joe reached over you to nudge the temperature valve. The once warm embrace of water turned frigid, causing you to jump and shriek. "Joseph!" you yelped, trying to avoid the icy spray. You took a step back, your back meeting the solid wall of Joe's broad chest as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, the water temperature now to his liking.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with feigned innocence. "Just how I like it." He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as the cold water continued to assault your skin. You squirmed in his grasp, the shock of the cold water fading into a laugh as you realized the futility of fighting him on this.

"Joe," you squealed, your laughter mixing with the sound of the water, "turn it back!" Your attempts to escape his grip only made you laugh harder as he held you firmly, his deep laughter vibrating against your back. You attempted to get a hand on the valve but your movement was cut short by Joe's larger hand gently swatting yours away.

"Come on, it's good for your skin," his deep voice rumbled in your ear. You shivered and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. The cold water continued to pummel them, and you felt your body tighten with the shock of it. "You should know better, doc," he quipped, his breath warm against your neck.

Your tense laughter subsided into a whine. "Joey, please," you begged, your teeth chattering slightly. "It's too cold. You're ruining my shower."

"Your shower?" Joe echoed, his tone incredulous. "This is our shower now."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself, the absurdity of the situation bringing a smile to your lips. You leaned back into him, your body beginning to warm again as the chill dissipated. His arms tightened around you as the water washed away the last of the soap. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the sound of the water the only thing breaking up the quiet.

"Alright, Comrade Burrow, let go of me," you said, your voice filled with mock irritation. Joe's arms loosened, allowing you to twist the valve back to a warmer temperature. The lukewarm water washed over you, and you turned to face him, your eyes dancing with playful anger.

"That's strike two," you muttered, a hand settling against his jaw as you pulled him down for a chaste kiss, leaving his skin tingling with a bite at his pink bottom lip.

Joe raised an eyebrow, chasing your lips as you pulled away and turned back around. "Strike two?"

You nodded, your eyes still closed, as you enjoyed the warm water cascading over you. "First, you try to bully me out of my shower, then you try to freeze me to death. You're on thin ice, babe."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll warm you right up," he whispered, his hands skimming over your wet body.

"That's strike three, I'm leaving." You giggled, pushing Joe's hands away with a gentle smack. You stepped out of the shower, your skin glistening with water droplets. Joe stepped aside, the playfulness in his eyes never fading as he watched you wrap a towel around yourself. You grabbed another for him, tossing it onto the vanity counter before exiting the bathroom.

Joe stepped out behind you, long limbs leaving a puddle on the gray mat beneath his feet. He wrapped the towel around his waist, his skin still slightly red from the cold water. "You're cute when you're mad," he said, his voice teasing.

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you couldn't hold back. "I'm not mad," you replied, walking over to your side of the sink to start your nightly skincare routine. "Just disappointed."

Joe stepped closer to you, the warmth of his body contrasting the coolness of the bathroom air. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peered at your reflection in the mirror. "How can you be disappointed with this?" he asked, his voice playful as he gestured to your reflection.

Your hand paused mid toner application, and you couldn't help but smile. "It's the principle," you said, turning your attention back to your routine. You felt Joe's warm breath against your neck as he leaned closer, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Well, the principle is that we both needed showers, and we're both tired," Joe said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Let's just get ready for bed before we start arguing over stupid shit again."

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. You finished your skincare routine, your movements precise and methodical, while Joe brushed his teeth with a hint of minty toothpaste wafting through the air. Joe finished drying off, forgoing a trip to his closet for a pair of sweatpants, and simply heading off to bed.

You set off for the closet, swapping your towel for Joe's raggedy Athens Bulldogs long-sleeve and a pair of his boxers. The fabric of his shirt was well-worn and smelled faintly of his scent. You couldn't help the shy flutter of your heart as you emerged to find him sprawled out underneath your sheets, taking up a good deal of space. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over Joe's muscular form. His bare chest peeked out from beneath the line of the sheets covering his lower half. He held his phone in one hand, the other arm bent behind his head as he scrolled through his notifications with a trademark unimpressed expression.

You approached the bed, sliding under the covers with a dramatic sigh, your body heat immediately melding with his. As if second nature, Joe's arm curled around your waist, his free hand coming to rest on your lower back, your head finding its usual spot on his firm chest. The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional buzz of his phone. Your eyes drifted shut, the warmth and safety of Joe's arms around you acting as a sedative after a grueling day.

"Love you," he hummed, placing his phone on the nightstand before switching the bedside lamp off. The sudden darkness enveloped them, and you felt Joe's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. You knew he was waiting for your response, but you remained silent, fighting off the twitch of a smirk.

He nudged you, a hint of urgency in his voice, "You gonna say it back?"

You pretended to be asleep, your body relaxed and limp against him, enjoying the quiet after the shower squabble. You felt his grip on you tighten slightly, a silent protest to your silence. With a dramatic sigh, you opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, the moonlight from your bedroom window highlighting the mischief in your gaze. "You really expect me to after you ruined my relaxing evening?"

Joe rolled his eyes, but the tension in his body dissipated as he couldn't help but smile at your feigned indignation. "I love you," he repeated, his voice softer this time.

You leaned in, your fingertips tracing his strong jaw as you whispered, "I love you too," before leaning in to kiss him softly. Your kiss held the promise of warmth and comfort, a silent apology for your earlier squabble. As you parted, Joe's eyes searched yours in the dim light, looking for any lingering traces of irritation. Finding none, his features softened, and he pulled you closer, soothing the two of you into your familiar embrace. His hand moved from your ass to your lower back, rubbing in slow, comforting circles as you slipped into slumber.

Your schedules left little time for cuddly nights like those as the season pushed forward. Between your full work weeks and Joe's demanding training and game days, your time together had melted into an afterthought. The occasional dinner date had turned into a rare luxury, and your once-nightly pillow talks had been replaced by quiet grumbling about who forgot to take out the trash or who left their keys scattered around the house.

The world only seemed to grace you with a few fleeting moments on Sundays when the Bengals played at home. Though you wouldn't see Joe until after the game, sharing him with his parents for a few hours before you all retired to bed, you always looked forward to Sunday evenings. It was the one day you could count on for a decent stretch of time together. This weekend, however, had been particularly testy on both your nerves.

Joe's parents, Robin and Jimmy, were staying over before making the trip back home the following morning. You and Robin fluttered between the living room and the kitchen, chatting about the game as you prepared dinner together. Jimmy sat in his designated Lazyboy, nodding along to your conversation, occasionally throwing in a comment about in his southern cadence so similar to Joe's. The house was filled with the comforting scent of dinner cooking and the first pumpkin pie of the fall baking.

You could feel your nerves frazzle every time you came within Joe's grasp. His constant touches, though affectionate, felt suffocating today. You needed space, but he seemed to need you more than ever. Each time he grabbed you, you'd give him a look that was half-playful, half-exasperated, but he remained oblivious, his attention not quite turning away from the conversations at hand.

Finally, Robin spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of teasing. "Joey, let the poor girl breathe," she said, gaining a chuckle from Jimmy.

Joe looked up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at his mother's words. "What do you mean?" he asked, adjusting his grip on your waist as he pulled you closer to his chest protectively.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "Sweetheart," you said, your voice light with affection. "You're smothering me today."

Joe met your eye, jaw set with tension. "I just want to spend time with you," he murmured, his voice thick with a hint of defensiveness. His hand remained firmly on your waist, his thumb idly tracing circles against the fabric of your crewneck.

Your smile softened, and your eyes searched his. You knew he was just feeling the weight of your different lives. "I know," you said gently. "But you're being a little clingy."

Robin looked up from the salad she was tossing, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's okay to let her go, Joey," she said. "You guys need to learn to live without each other a little."

You shot her a grateful look, which Joe returned with a glower. "You're one to talk," he said, his voice tight. "You and Dad have been joined at the hip for what, thirty years?"

Robin chuckled, setting the salad bowl down on the kitchen island. "That's different," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You two are still in the 'can't keep your hands to yourselves' phase of being together. It's adorable, really."

Jimmy coughed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Your mother's right," he said, his gaze flicking from you to Joe. "You're both young, and busy. If you're serious about staying together, you need to find a balance of affection that works."

Joe's grip tightened, and you felt the beginnings of a petty protest brewing. "I just want to spend time with you," he grumbled into your ear, his voice a mix of annoyance and longing. "Barely see each other these days."

"I know, babe," you said, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Just give me a few minutes to breathe, okay?" You gave him a warm smile, hoping it conveyed your love without patronizing his feelings.

Joe hesitated, pouting like a scolded puppy.

"Actually, sweetheart, do you mind taking a look at this?" Robin said, holding up her hand to reveal the beginnings of a scar running along her forearm. "It's been a week since I got it, and it's not healing right."

Your gaze shifted from Joe's sulky expression to Robin's arm. "Sure," you said, your professional instincts kicking in. You stepped out of Joe's embrace, following Robin to the bathroom. You could hear Joe grumble something under his breath as you closed the door behind you.

In the well-lit bathroom, you washed your hands before reaching out to take Robin's arm in your hand. "It does look a bit red," you said, your voice concerned. "How did you get it?"

"Tripped over a box at the garage sale," Robin said with a shrug, her tone airy. "Thought it was nothing, but it's still bothering me."

You continued scrutinizing the scar. "It's definitely inflamed," you said, your voice even. "I might need to write you a script for some antibiotics."

"Oh, no need," Robin said, her voice bright. "I got this checked out on Friday. I just wanted to hear your opinion and get you some space from Joe."

Your eyes widened as realization dawned on you. You couldn't help but laugh. "He's gonna kill me," you said, shaking your head. "But thank you, I needed a breather."

Robin chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You guys are going to be okay," she assured you, giving you a comforting pat on the arm. "You just need to remember to make time for each other, and communicate when you need space better. Like Jimmy was saying, you need to find a good balance. I wouldn't want you two to be miserable over communication."

You nodded, your eyes lingering on the scar, which you knew was fine. The whole thing had been a clever ruse, but it had given you the break you needed. "We've been at each other's throats the last week. He just wants to be with me, but he can be..." you trailed off with a sigh.

Robin leaned closer, her expression understanding. "A little too determined?" she offered.

You nodded, unable to hold back a chuckle. "Yeah, that's one way to put it. But I love him, and I know he just misses me. I feel awful asking for space when he's so obviously trying to reconnect."

Robin squeezed your arm. "You're not asking for the moon, honey. Sometimes, Joe just needs a nudge to understand. You two are both stubborn as hell, but that's what makes you work. You understand him." She smiled softly before adding, "Just be upfront with him. Tell him you appreciate the affection, but you need some breathing room."

You nodded, taking Robin's advice to heart as you returned to the kitchen. You could see Joe sulking on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of the argument's resolution. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just craving your attention. You gave him a warm smile and took a seat beside him, your legs curling under you.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Much," you assured him, leaning into his side. You knew that Joe's clinginess was just his way of dealing with the distance your hectic schedules had forced between you. "Your mom just needs antibiotics for that scar," you said, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Joe looked up from his phone, his expression unchanged. "Oh," he said, his voice devoid of interest, choosing instead to allow you to pull his arm around your shoulders. A sly smile tugged at his lips, he couldn't help but feel the tension in his chest ease slightly.

Your office buzzed with the steady rhythm of a busy clinic, the murmur of patients, and the tap of your heels against the linoleum punctuating the air. You stood at a long counter, finishing up your notes, when one of your nurses, Luca, looked up from where he was entering data into a computer. "Joe's here," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Where?" you responded, your focus still on the paperwork you were filling out.

"In room four. He said he had an appointment," Luca replied, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes darted up, a mix of surprise and confusion. "Appointment?" you murmured, setting your pen down and looking at Luca. "Was he on my schedule?" you trailed off, reaching for one of the stray iPads kept around the office to take a look at the day's appointments.

"Well, no. But your 2:45 was a no-show," Luca explained, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. "Taylor did his rooming and said it was something simple, probably just a sunburn."

You couldn't help but laugh, your heart warming at the thought of Joe sneaking in for a visit under the guise of needing medical attention. It had been weeks since you had any real quality time together, with his football schedule colliding with your busy clinic hours. You shook your head as you closed the manila folder you were holding. "Alright, I'll go see what Mr. Franchise needs," you said, your tone playfully sarcastic as you handed Luca the folder and pushed away from the counter.

Walking into the exam room, you saw Joe sitting comfortably wide in the light blue exam chair. He looked up when you entered, a familiar spark entering his eyes when he took in the sight of you. "Hey," he said, his voice low and a little shy.

"Hey yourself," you responded, your smile genuine despite your initial surprise. You set your iPad down, sitting cross-legged in your chair just a few feet away from him. "What's this about?" you inquired, your gaze traveling over his face and exposed limbs for any hint of the irritation that had allegedly brought him into the practice.

Joe shifted, his eyes avoiding yours for a brief moment before meeting them again. "Well, it's…it's my neck," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "My skin's been bothering me for a couple of days."

Your smile grew softer as you stood from your chair, walking over to inspect the area. "You know, I've told you before," you said gently, your voice professional despite the intimate setting. "You really need to get a better helmet liner. This irritation is from the constant rubbing."

Joe shrugged, his large hands folded in his lap. "I know, I know. I'll look into it," he said, his eyes meeting yours. The silence grew between them as you examined the reddened skin, your touch feather-light.

"When you sweat, the friction just the irritation makes it worse," you added, your thumbs tracing the inflamed line along his neck. "It's not anything serious, but it could become infected if you don't treat it. With your skin being so sensitive, we need to be careful."

Joe didn't respond, his eyes lingering on yours. You could feel his hands settle gently on your hips, urging you closer. You sighed, setting aside your professional demeanor for a moment. "You know you could've just called me to tell me about this," you murmured, a hint of exasperation in your voice. "Or gone to the team physician."

"Honey, are you listening to me?" you asked, your eyes searching his as you stepped closer, your hand reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. The ends of his unstyled dirty blonde strands curled around your fingers, reminding you of the hundreds of times you had done this before. His cheek pressed to your chest, his breathing slowed, you knew he was enjoying the simple closeness.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into your touch. "I am," Joe said, his voice a soft rumble.

You couldn't help but chuckle, continuing your gentle threading. "You know you're being ridiculous," you said, your voice a warm tease. "Is everything okay? How was practice?"

"Practice was fine," Joe replied, his eyes still closed. "I missed you. Just wanted to see you."

You felt a twinge of guilt. "I know," you said, your voice gentle. "I miss you too. I'm sorry we've been like this lately."

Joe's arms tightened around you. "Me too," he murmured, focused on the way your heart beat steadily beneath his ear.

"Did you really come here just to see me?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of affection and skepticism.

Joe looked up at you, a boyish grin playing on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "My skin was irritated so I came to see the best dermatologist in Ohio."

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to resist the warmth spreading through your chest. "You're terrible," you said, your voice filled with affection. "But I'll take the compliment." You lifted his jaw, meeting his eyes before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'll write you a prescription, you big baby."

Joe grinned, his grip loosening slightly. "I'm your big baby," he murmured, his eyes lighting up as you kissed his nose.

You couldn't resist the charm, your eyes crinkling with laughter. "You're something, alright," you said, stepping back to scribble something on the prescription pad. You tore off the top sheet and handed it to him. "This should help with the irritation, but you really do need to get that helmet sorted out."

Joe took the prescription with a nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll do it," he promised, his voice earnest. He pulled your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. "Thank you, Doc."

You felt the tension of the day melt away as you leaned into him, your free hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Any other ailments or afflictions you'd like me to check out?" you asked, your voice teasing.

Joe's smile grew into a grin. "Maybe just one more," he said, his thumb tracing a line down your arm. "My lips are kinda chapped."

You rolled your eyes, your own smile widening. "I'll take a look," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. "Feels fine to me. But maybe you should keep hydrating," you said, lightness entering your voice once again.

You shared a quiet laugh, the air in the room thick with the intimacy that had been missing from your recent interactions. Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment longer before you stepped away, washing your hands before reaching for the medical cream you needed to apply. You squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips before gently rubbing it into the irritated area. Joe leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting closed as the coolness of the cream soothed his skin.

"You'll pick this up from the pharmacy, right?" you said, your voice firm but gentle as you capped the tube of cream.

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

You couldn't help but smile at his obedience. "Good boy," you said, your thumb smoothing over the cream to ensure it was evenly applied. "And Joe, please don't make a habit of this. I nearly popped a blood vessel when I thought you had something serious going on."

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed, savoring the moment. "I know," he said. "But sometimes, I just need to feel you taking care of me, you know?"

Your heart swelled. You did know. Your lives had become a series of passing moments, stolen kisses, and rushed conversations. You missed the simplicity of your early days together too. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against the fabric of his shirt in small, comforting circles. "I'll make sure to be home at a reasonable tonight," you promised.

Joe's eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a warm smile. "You don't have to," he said, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "But I'd like that."

You nodded, your eyes soft as you met his gaze. "Okay, I'll be home by seven. We can have dinner together, and maybe watch Episode IV for the thousandth time?" you suggested, your voice hopeful.

Joe's grin grew. "Now, you're talking," he said as he leaned back in the chair. "You promise to stay awake for the whole thing?"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's dangerous to make promises like that," you teased. "But I'll try." You stepped back, your hand lingering on his shoulder before you finally pulled away. "Now, go get that cream, and start looking for liners. No more sneaky appointments unless it's a real issue."

Joe chuckled, standing from the chair. He wrapped his arms around you in a quick, tight embrace. "Deal," he murmured before letting go.

Things had seemed to cool off, but as the weekend drew closer, the two of you were swept back up into your separate routines. By the time Thursday evening came around, you were both exhausted and looking forward to a quiet night in.

It wasn't unusual for Ja'Marr to pop over, especially before important games when Joe had his individual film sessions. The two men had made it a tradition since their time together at LSU, their friendship had remained tight with their close proximity.

Ja'Marr, with his broad shoulders and a fresh cut, strolled into your house without knocking, having memorized the code to the keypad ages ago, a bag of chips in hand. "What's up?"

You looked up from the open fridge, shaking your head with a smile, watching him unload his pockets as Joe's heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. "Hey, I'm about to make dinner, you want some?"

Ja'Marr nodded, tossing the bag of chips onto the counter. "Yeah, sounds good," he said, offering you a side hug as Joe approached. The three of you settled into the kitchen, Joe leaning against the counter, Ja'Marr with his hands in his pockets, while you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"You're cooking?" Joe asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched your flurry of activity. "Why don't you just order something?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "Because I want to?" you said, a sassy edge to your voice. You knew Joe's question was more than just a preference for takeout; it was his subtle way of hinting that you were working too hard. "It'll help clear my head."

Ja'Marr chuckled, taking a seat at the kitchen island. "Joe, are you really complaining right now?" he teased, popping a chip into his mouth.

Joe shrugged, his eyes still focused on your moving figure. "Nah, just making sure you're not pushing yourself too much," he said, his voice filled with affectionate concern. "You've been going non-stop lately."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "I am literally making you dinner," you said, your voice light. "How are you complaining?"

Ja'Marr laughed outright at that, shaking his head. "You two are something else," he said, taking a sip of water, scowling when Joe reached into his bag of chips for a few pieces.

"What?" Joe said, munching on a handful. "You walk into my house uninvited, man. I can have a few of your chips."

You walked over to Joe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go watch film, I'm okay, I promise," you said, gently nudging him away from the kitchen. You knew he was just trying to help, but you needed this time to unwind.

Joe sighed but didn't argue further, grabbing his iPad and retreating to the living room. Ja'Marr lingered behind, watching your every move with an expectant look on his face.

"Yes, Ja'Marr?" you asked, your eyes flickering over to him as you prepped vegetables.

"Are you still driving up to Cleveland on Sunday?" he started with a light tone. "If you are, maybe my girl could sit with you? She's been wanting to see me play in person for a while."

You paused mid-chop, the knife hovering over a bell pepper. You looked up at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "No, actually," you said, placing the knife down carefully. "I thought I'd stay home this weekend, maybe go to the spa, and catch the game from here."

Ja'Marr's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you as if you had just suggested something unthinkable. "You're not going to the game?" he said, his tone incredulous.

Before you could respond, Joe's voice cut through the kitchen, his tone incredulous. "What do you mean you're not going to the game?" he called out from the living room.

You took a deep breath before releasing a long sigh. You knew Joe was sensitive about you not attending the games you typically did, but you had her reasons. "I just need some me-time, Joe," you called back, your voice firm. "I don't want to drive to Cleveland by myself. Besides, you're going to be busy with the game. I won't even see you until we get home at like two in the morning."

Joe appeared in the kitchen entryway, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "That's not the point," he said, his voice tight. "You always come to the games in Cleveland."

You took another deep breath, keeping your eyes on your task. "Joe, this has nothing to do with you. I just know I'm gonna be exhausted, and I want to take care of myself."

Ja'Marr looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. "Maybe I'll just ask Tee," he offered, trying to ease the tension. "His mom is staying with him this week, she might go to the Cleveland game."

"It's fine," you said, turning to give him a reassuring smile. You didn't want to ruin his night with your relationship woes. "I didn't know you were that serious about her. I wish I could meet her."

Joe's face fell, and he took a step forward, obscuring Ja'Marr's view of your faces. His voice dropped, "Are you really not coming?"

You could hear the disappointment in his tone, and you felt a twinge of guilt. You knew Joe thrived on your support at games, and you had been his rock at every single one, cheering him on from the sidelines. But you were tired, so tired. "I'm sorry, babe," you said, your voice sincere. "I was gonna tell you tonight."

Joe crossed his arms, his eyes searching yours. "Is that the real reason?" he pressed, his voice low. "Or are you upset with me about something?"

You took a deep breath, turning to face him fully. "Joe," you said, your tone measured with a warning. "I have my own life too. Work is tiring, and I need the weekend to recover."

Joe's jaw tightened, his blue eyes boring into yours. "But we hardly see each other as it is," he countered. "I like knowing you're there, supporting me."

"Are you worried I won't watch if I'm not sitting in the stadium? Because I promise you, I'll be screaming at the refs through the TV just as loud." You knew Joe was taking your absence personally, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

"It's not the same," Joe said, his voice gruff. "You know that."

You sighed, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. "Babe," you began, your voice calm but firm. "I love watching you play, but I can't always drop everything to follow you around. I have my own shit to deal with here."

Joe shook his head, biting at his lip with a frown. "I don't get it," he murmured, his voice tight with frustration. "But whatever."

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his tone, but you kept your voice steady. "What don't you get?" you asked, your patience wearing thin.

"We will talk about this later," Joe said, his voice a low growl. Your jaw tightened, the two of you engaged in a silent staring contest.

Ja'Marr took the moment of silence to clear his throat awkwardly. "I can leave if you need to talk? Just let me know when dinner's ready?"

You offered him a tight smile. "No, it's fine. Stay and watch film."

Joe didn't say anything, choosing instead to continue staring intensely at the side of your face as you resumed chopping vegetables. The kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sound of the knife slicing through the peppers, the tension palpable. You felt a simmer of annoyance build in your chest, but you pushed it down. You didn't want to fight, not really, but you had to stand your ground.

"Okay," Ja'Marr drew out slowly under his breath. "Y'all two fighting like an old married couple. Maybe you need some one-on-one time, or some shit."

Joe grunted, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. "What do you mean?"

Ja'Marr leaned back against the counter, popping another chip in his mouth as he attempted to play relationship counselor. "Y''all been at each other's necks," he said, gesturing between you. "Maybe you just need to, you know, fix it in the bedroom."

You couldn't help but snort with laughter, turning to Joe with narrowed eyes. "Did your best friend just tell us to have sex to solve our problems? Both of you get out of my kitchen, please. Go do literally anything else."

Joe couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his chest. He turned to stalk off to the living room, already taking Ja'Marr's words to heart. The wide receiver followed him as he muttered, "I'm just tryna help you, bro."

You finished dinner, serving the two men before retreating to your office to catch up on some paperwork. Ja'Marr had left before the clock hit 8:30, reminding Joe of his earlier words.

"Maybe he's onto something," Joe mumbled to himself, watching as the front door closed.

By the time Joe made it up to your bedroom, you were already tucked into bed, your laptop open and the soft glow of the screen casting a cool light over your features. You looked up at him as he entered, your eyes questioning. He paused in the doorway, his mind racing. He knew he had to tread carefully; he didn't want to start another fight, especially not after your earlier tension.

"Hey," he began, his voice tentative.

You paused from her work, the glow from the laptop lighting up your face. You studied him for a moment before closing your laptop with a sigh. "Hey," you replied, confusion etched into your features as you observed Joe carefully.

Joe took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, his voice sincere. "I overreacted. I just miss you, you know?"

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders visibly dissipating. "I miss you too," you admitted, your voice softer, offering him space to climb under the blanket with you.

Joe leaned in, his hand brushing against your cheek as he turned your face to meet his. His eyes searched yours, looking for any lingering anger or resentment. Finding none, he leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours that grew more urgent with each passing second. You closed your eyes, your arms sliding around his neck as you melted into the kiss.

Your kiss grew deeper, your bodies pressing closer together as Joe's hand traveled down to your waist, pulling you towards him. You felt the warmth spread through you, the stress of the day slowly evaporating. The two of you broke apart, both panting slightly, staring into each other's eyes as if seeing one another for the first time in weeks.

"Do you want to...?" Joe trailed off, his voice low and hopeful, his thumb tracing the plump of your bottom lip. His palm cupped the side of your face, blue eyes searching yours.

You studied him, the love and desire swirling in his gaze undeniable. You knew he was referring to the "one-on-one time" Ja'Marr had so bluntly suggested. Despite your initial dismissal, you couldn't ignore the spark it had ignited within you. The petty fights had clearly been a symptom of a deeper issue - your lack of intimacy. "Please," you murmured, leaning into his touch.

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned back, pulling you with him so you were straddling his hips. The weight of you felt like home, the warmth of your skin seeping into his as he kissed you deeply, his hands exploring your curves. Your sighs turned into a moan as you ground your hips down into his, feeling his hand squeeze your ass under his palms before bringing a hand down to hear the satisfying 'smack', the friction sending shockwaves through Joe's body.

He rolled you over, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands roaming over your skin, peeling your clothes away. Your hands were equally busy, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, your nails scraping lightly against his chest as you pushed the fabric over his head. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the rustle of fabric.

Your kisses grew more urgent, Joe's hands tracing a path down your body, his fingertips dancing along the edge of your panties. You gasped, your body arching up into his touch. He paused, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered against your skin, lips drawing heat as they pressed wet kisses to your chest, nipping eagerly at the fat of your breasts, hands kneading the flesh beneath his palms.

Your breath hitched, your voice thick with want. "You," you managed to get out, your eyes fluttering shut as Joe's mouth found your neck, kissing and sucking the tender skin there. His touch was soothing an ache you hadn't realized you had been carrying with you for weeks.

"I can do that," he said, his words muffled against your salty skin. Your hips squirmed against him, your lips parting with another pretty moan from the feel of his tip pressing against your core. You could feel the frustration of him being so close but not close enough. The thin fabric of your underwear - ironically matching in color - was the only barrier left between you.

With a low groan, Joe's hands slid down to the waistband of your panties, his thumbs hooking into the elastic. Your own hands were busy in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth found your breasts. He kissed and bit, his teeth grazing your nipples, and you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing yourself into his mouth. He took his time, savoring the taste of you, feeling the tremble of your body with each nibble.

You whined, tugging at the messy strands of his hair. "Joe," you breathed out his name, a plea for more. He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust as he peered up at you. He held your gaze as his fingers slipped into your panties, humming in approval when he found you slick and ready. With a nudge, he kept your thighs spread to accommodate him, allowing you access to his lips as his fingers lightly stroked through your folds.

"You're so wet for me, baby," Joe murmured, his voice thick with want. He kissed your stomach, your hips rolling with impatience. He took his time, dragging his kisses down the line of your navel until his mouth was right there, hot breath against your clit. His cheek rested against your thigh, breathing in your sweet scent as he continued to hold you open for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Joe's fingers continued rubbing you in slow circles, your hips bucking upward in silent demand. He trailed kisses down your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to soothe you after biting into your brown skin. The anticipation was agonizing, but you knew he enjoyed teasing you, drawing it out until you were begging.

"Joey," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please."

He chuckled under his breath, forcing himself to keep his attention on your sensitive center. His fingers still pressed against you, sweeping through your wet pussy as your arousal began to coat the inside of your thighs and slowly drip down to the bed. He knew if he looked up and saw your face, he'd be lost in your eyes, so he focused on your reactions, the way your body arched and trembled. He brought his face closer, hovering just out of reach, his thumb gently teasing your entrance without giving you the satisfaction you craved.

"Give me a second, honey." He murmured reassuringly under his breath. "Need to make sure she remembers me. It's been so long, you think she does?" He smirked against your skin, his teeth grazing your inner thigh again, making you squirm.

Your grip tightened in his hair, your hips bucking upwards. "She'd never forget you," you managed to gasp out, your voice breathless. "Just..."

Joe took the hint, his smirk growing wider as he leaned in closer, his tongue pressing flat against your center, licking up your slit with a maddening slowness. Your nails dug into his scalp, your body tensing as he finally took you in his mouth, sucking and licking with a hunger that had been building for weeks. The sensation was overwhelming, your thighs shaking as they tense over his shoulders. You released a soft moan, the sound of his name on your lips like a prayer.

Your body was tightening, the tension in your core growing with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck of his lips. Joe could feel you getting closer, the muscles in your legs tensing as your breath grew shorter. He didn't stop, his mouth working to bring you to the edge of pleasure. Your hips began to rock against him, your moans growing louder, gasping and writhing to his touch, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

Joe pulled away with a smug smirk, watching you react to his touch as his fingers took over for his mouth. With a start, he inserted one finger inside you, feeling the heat and the tightness of your walls. He stayed close, watching the way your body quivered in reaction to his touch.

"I know, baby, I know," he soothed, voice deep as he kissed your thighs, his breath brushing over your overly sensitive skin. He watched your face, the way your eyes had glazed over and your teeth bit at your bottom lip. He didn't want you to come from his fingers, though. He wanted to feel you come around his cock, wanted to hear you scream his name as you lost control.

"Keep 'em open for me, gonna give you my cock, beautiful," he urged, instructing you to keep your thighs open as you whimpered at the loss of his fingers. He kissed your stomach before sitting up to remove his underwear. His cock stood proudly, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Your chest heaved as you watched him gently stroke himself, turning your head to the side as your thighs closed together, the ache for him unbearable. You could feel your pussy fluttering, begging for his attention.

He wasn't quite done teasing you. As he sat back on his heels, he guided his tip through your folds, using your wetness as his lubricant. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, muffling a moan at the sensation. Your eyes were glossed over with lust, watching him with a mix of frustration and need.

Without another word, Joe pushed into you, watching your eyes widen as he filled you up. He took his time, savoring the feel of your tight warmth surrounding him, your inner walls pulsing around him as you adjusted to his girth. Your eyes rolled back, your back arching off the bed as he began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had you both panting within moments.

Joe leaned forward, supporting himself on one hand as the other pulled your leg to rest against his hip. He was positioned directly over you, allowing your hands to reach for his jaw, bringing him down to kiss you deeply. You could feel the heat from his body, his chest pressing against your breasts, and you reveled in the feeling of being filled by him. His strokes grew more urgent, and you could feel the tension building within you once more.

"Come on, talk to me, sweetheart," he groaned out. "'M listening, need to hear your sweet voice."

Your breath hitched, your eyes snapping open to meet Joe's intense gaze. "I need you deeper," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. He smirked, his eyes lighting up with challenge, and lowered himself onto an elbow, pulling the thigh in his grasp higher on his hip. The adjustment sent him deeper, and you gasped, your body tensing for a brief moment.

He chuckled, his thumb drawing a soothing circle into your thigh. "Breathe, baby," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure building once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours with a deep, steady rhythm that had your toes curling as you struggled to stay in control of your body.

"Yeah," you moaned, your voice strained, "like that."

Joe's pace quickened, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room as he pumped into you with an animalistic fervor that had been building since you started fighting. The frustration of the day, the need to claim you, to make you his again, was palpable in every thrust. You whimpered as his nose nudged against yours, reminding you to keep your eyes trained on his. He liked watching you come, liked the way your pupils would blow wide and your eyes would glaze over like you were baring your soul to him.

He felt you tighten around him, your legs squeezing him, your breaths coming out in short puffs. You were close, so close, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Right there?"

You nodded, mouth wide, pupils blown, your breathing ragged. "Yes," you gasped, "right there, don't stop. Fuck, yes."

Joe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he felt you tighten around him. He could feel his own release building, but he held it back, focusing on you, wanting you to come first. His hips slammed into yours, the rhythm relentless, his cock driving deep within you with each thrust. You were so wet, so tight, the sensation of your pussy gripping him like a glove threatening to send him over the edge at any moment.

You began to squirm as your orgasm approached. Your breathing growing more shallow, your eyes locked with Joe's as if begging for release. His own breaths grew strained, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held himself above you, his hips moving faster, pushing into you with a force that had your body rocking against the bed.

"Uh uh," he tsked, snapping his hips into you with more force, the smugness in his expression growing with each whine you made. "You're not going anywhere, baby. Stay right here with me. I got you. Just let it go for me. Let me make you feel good."

The words were like a dam breaking, the orgasm crashing over you with a ferocity that had you arching into him, your legs tightening around him. You threw your head back, moaning his name as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of it. He watched your face, the way your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the way you clamped down on him, and it was his turn to moan out. He could feel your pulses around his cock, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

"Yeah, there you go, babe. That's it, baby, good fuckin' girl." Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear, his thrusts growing more erratic as he felt your climax ripple through your body. He held on, waiting for you to come back down before he allowed himself to go over the edge. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving lines on his back, but he didn't care. He liked the push and pull, liked knowing that you were feeling everything just as intensely as he was.

"Oh, my fucking god - shit!" you gasped, feeling your orgasm continue to ravage your senses, each wave more intense than the previous as Joe's hips continued to roll into yours.

"Look at that. So fuckin' beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice thick with the beginning of his own climax. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his own release began to build. The taste of you was on his tongue, and it was all he needed to push him over the edge. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you, the warmth of his cum spilling into your depths as his muscles tensed and then relaxed.

Your bodies lay tangled together, a mess of sweat and limbs as you both caught your breath. You felt Joe's weight shift, his muscles slackening against you as his breath evened out. You trailed your fingers through his tousled hair, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead as the fuzziness in his head cleared.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice gruff with satisfaction.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Okay," you assured him. "You?"

"Better than okay." Joe nuzzled closer, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths. You lay in a cocoon of warmth, the sheets twisted around your legs. "We should do this more often."

You chuckled, stroking your hand down his back. "Damn," you breathed, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and amazement. "You've never spoken to me like that before."

He laughed, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed the still aftermath of your passion. "It's all that pent-up frustration," he murmured. "But you liked it."

It was a statement, not a question, and you couldn't help but agree. You kissed him again, your hands still tangled in his hair. "I loved it," you admitted, your voice still a bit breathless.

Joe chuckled, his chest rumbling against you as he pulled out of you. "Good to know," he murmured, his thumb tracing over your cheek. "Guess we know what the cure for our petty fights is now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating. "Next time I start arguing with you about stupid shit, you have my permission to fuck it out of me."

Joe smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Deal," he agreed, his voice filled with a newfound lightness. He rolled away from you, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh of contentment. You turned onto your side, kissing him softly before slipping out of bed to clean yourself up.

Joe followed her, allowing you space to handle your business before taking his turn. When you both climbed back into bed, the air was thicker, charged with the aftermath of your released tension. You lay down with a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. You snuggled closer to him, your hand tracing shapes over his chest as you lay in the quiet darkness.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass recently," Joe said, his voice soft and sincere. "I know you've got a lot going on with work and stuff, but I just feel guilty being gone so much this season."

Your hand paused on his chest, your eyes searching his in the dim light of the room. "I know, baby," you replied, your voice filled with understanding. "It's not your fault, I should've been more honest, should've told you I wasn't going to Cleveland when I made the decision."

"That's okay," Joe said, his thumb tracing lazy circles into your supple skin. "We're good. I'll go up to Cleveland, get a win, and come back for victory sex." His voice was light, the tension from earlier replaced with humor and affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Sounds like a plan." You cuddled closer to Joe, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

#&. cassie writes.#&. joe x doctor!reader: fics.#joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joey burrow #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x black!reader #cincinnati bengals #x black reader #black!reader #joe burrow bengals #x black!reader #black reader

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rafeysbangs · 5 months ago

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⋅˚₊୨୧↷ bf!rafe loves your lingerie sets

warnings ; suggestive !, pretty fluffy - nothing else, rafe refers to reader as baby :)

notes ; i bought new lingerie today so here's a fic based on how my very real boyfriend rafe cameron acted when i showed him ( i'm gonna go touch grass now xo )

"raaafe, i've got a surprise for you..."

you sang as you walked through the door of your shared condo, trillions of bags in hand. he mumbled something in response from the bedroom, distracted by something on his phone - probably work related - so you snuck into the bathroom, plotting to grasp his attention.

the door creaked open as you stepped into the bedroom, the soft click of your heels against the hardwood floor drawing rafe’s attention from where he was sprawled lazily across the bed. his phone slipped from his hand onto the mattress, forgotten the second his eyes landed on you. his gaze swept over you slowly, taking in every detail of the lace hugging your curves, every inch of skin it left exposed.

he froze, his mouth slightly open, the corners tugging into a faint, incredulous smile. “what-” he started, his voice rasping, but the words caught in his throat.

you shifted under his gaze, tugging at the hem of the delicate fabric even though it did nothing to cover you. “stop staring,” you muttered, your face burning as you glanced away.

“stop staring?” he repeated, pushing himself up from the bed so quickly it startled you. his eyes stayed locked on you, wide with disbelief. “baby, how am i supposed to stop staring when you walk in here looking like this?”

“it’s just lingerie, rafe,” you mumbled, trying to play it off even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“no,” he said, shaking his head as he crossed the room, his bare feet padding against the floor. his hands found your waist without hesitation, his fingers firm but gentle, his touch warm against your skin. “it’s you in lingerie. don’t downplay it.”

you laughed nervously, trying to step back, but his grip held you in place - not forceful, just steady, grounding. “you’re being dramatic.”

he tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “dramatic? baby, i’m not even playing it up enough.” he leaned in closer, his breath brushing over your ear. “do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?”

your breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. his thumbs brushed over the lace, and he shook his head, his eyes softening as they roamed your face.

“don’t hide from me,” he said when you started to glance away again, his voice quiet but commanding. he cupped your chin, tilting your face back toward his. “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, and i’m not just saying that.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you whispered, your cheeks flaming, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible not to believe him.

“i’m not,” he insisted, his voice firm but full of affection. “you walk in here looking like an actual dream, and you think i’m gonna let you downplay it? not a chance.”

he bent down slightly, his forehead brushing yours as his fingers traced idle patterns over your sides. “you don’t even need this stuff to have me losing my mind over you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “but this? this just isn’t fair.”

you laughed despite yourself, your nervousness melting under his touch. he pulled back enough to catch your eyes, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “there’s that smile,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “that’s my girl.”

before you could respond, his lips found yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to savor you. his hands slid up your back, skimming over the lace, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

“you’re staying in this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice dropping lower. “because we’re not leaving this room for a while.”

his words sent a shiver through you, and you barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands roaming like he couldn’t get enough of you.

and from the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world, you were starting to think maybe he couldn’t.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

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meenaxskz · 1 month ago

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when he gets sick (maknae line)

ot8 reactions-drabbles | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack warnings: language a/n : i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to come so late after the hyung line sniff... but it was hard to come up with different new plots for each members. hopefully it's okay ! hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

you find him dramatically starfished across the couch like he’s been defeated by a single sneeze. tissues everywhere. hoodie halfway on. hair sticking up like static electricity punched him in the skull. he sees the cough syrup and immediately goes “oh no. not today, satan.” you’re already tired and you haven’t said a word yet. “han jisung. you are sick. take. the. medicine.” “i already took medicine!” “no you didn’t.” “i took homeopathic medicine.” “…you sniffed Vicks and drank orange juice.” “AND I FELT SPIRITUALLY HEALED.” you deadpan. he sniffles. “don’t look at me like that, you judgmental nurse from hell.” you walk over. he backs up into the corner of the couch like you’re holding a weapon. technically you are. grape-flavored and vengeance-infused. “you’re gonna have to sedate me” he whispers. “because I’m not drinking that purple demon piss.” “it’s not even bad...” “then you drink it!!” “I’M NOT THE ONE MAKING DYING GOOSE NOISES IN THEIR SLEEP.” jisung makes a tiny offended gasp, like you just insulted his ancestors “I was wheezing cutely!” “you sounded like a haunted vacuum cleaner.” he slaps a tissue to his chest. “my own lover… turned against me…” you hold up the spoon. he crosses his arms like a gremlin. “no.” you sigh. you text chan. you hold the phone up so jisung can see the message: “if han jisung doesn’t take his meds in 5 minutes, i’m sending you the ‘meow meow sick boy’ compilation i’ve been collecting since 2022.” jisung stares in horror. “you kept archives??” “i am the FBI.” he mutters something about betrayal and capitalism but opens his mouth like a sulky baby bird. you pour the syrup in. he gags like you just poisoned him. “I CAN FEEL MY SOUL DYING” he howls, flailing. “I SEE THE LIGHT.” “that’s the kitchen light, dumbass.” you give him a juice box. he slurps it aggressively. “…i still get cuddles though, right?” “only if you don’t fake your death again.” he nods. “deal.” bonus: later that night, he’s fully passed out on your lap, warm from meds, holding your hand like a teddy bear. you go to grab your phone, and he sleep-mumbles: “…don’t post the meow meow archive… the people can’t know…” you smirk. too late.

felix

you’re standing in the living room, folding towels, living your boring domestic life in peace when you hear the softest, most suspiciously sweet little voice behind you go... “baby…” you already know. your soul leaves your body. you turn. he’s standing there in a hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves covering his hands, blinking like he’s never committed a crime in his life. “…what.” “c’mere” “why?” “just. c’mere.” you blink. you take one step forward. he immediately collapses into your arms. “i’m so tired…” “you slept eleven hours.” “emotionally.” you try to walk but he's wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. “felix i literally can’t fold towels with you hanging off me like a koala” “don’t need towels. need love.” you freeze. “…did you just say that out loud.” “i’m in my soft era.” he looks up at you, full puppy eyes, lips slightly pouty. “can i sit in your lap while you do stuff?” “i'm not a fucking booster seat” he climbs into your lap anyway. man is built like a cat with separation anxiety. “pet me.” “felix” “pet. me.” so now you’re sitting there one-handed folding laundry while your very adult boyfriend purrs into your hoodie and mumbles things like “you smell like safety.” and “you’re my lil mommy bear.” “okay nope. absolutely fucking not.” “my milky wuvy” “I’M GETTING THE SPRAY BOTTLE.” you try to push him off, he clings harder. “if you unlatch me, i’ll cry. real tears. emotional damage. 2007 trauma unlocked.” you freeze. “…why 2007.” “i watched Bridge to Terabithia and i’ve never been the same.” he pulls out the big guns. eyelash flutter. pout. baby voice. “can you scratch my back while i fall asleep and then play with my hair and tell me i’m special and maybe also feed me snacks?” you stare. “…do you wanna be babied or adopted.” “both.” bonus: 30 minutes later, you’re hand-feeding him popcorn on the couch, scratching his back, while he lays across your lap like a little prince. you mutter, “you’re so fucking spoiled.” he smiles sleepily. “and yet… so adorable.” you don't deny that...

seungmin

you walk into the living room with medicine and warm tea, and he doesn’t even look up from the couch. just sniffs dramatically and says, “look who finally decided to check on the dying.” “seungmin. it’s been 6 minutes. i went to boil water.” he shrugs. “a lot can happen in 6 minutes. i could’ve passed away. joined the spirit realm. you wouldn’t even know.” you stare. he stares back, wrapped in the blanket like a bitter old man on his front porch judging the neighborhood. “here” you hand him the tea. “…you think this will fix me?” “it’s ginger and honey.” “oh perfect. can’t wait to taste warm regret.” you sit next to him. he immediately leans just slightly away. “don’t get too close. i’m diseased. like a stray dog” “you’re being dramatic.” “i’m being accurate. my lungs sound like wet socks.” he coughs once. loudly. then looks at you like you personally caused it. “this is what happens when i go outside. i told you. the air is trying to kill me.” “you were at a café for fifteen minutes” “and now i’m paying the price for socializing.” he sips the tea. pauses. “…okay fine. this is kinda nice.” you smirk “wanna cuddle?” he slowly turns to you with a blank stare “…i’m infectious.” “yeah, but you’re also cute.” he scoffs. “disgusting. go date someone with a normal immune system.” you kiss his cheek. he doesn’t react, but his ears go red.he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear: “…love you too, idiot.” bonus: he wakes up from a nap on your lap, eyes barely open, voice raspy as hell. “did you cheat on me while I was unconscious.” you blink.“…what?” “you were scrolling suspiciously fast.” “i was on pinterest.” “mhm. planning your next relationship, probably.” you snort. “i was looking at soup recipes for you, dumbass.” he pauses.“…did you save any good ones?”

i.n

he’s laying on the bed, flushed, sniffling, and looking like a hot mess. literally. fever at 100.7. eyes glassy. shirtless. blanket only covering one leg for some reason. he sees you walk in with medicine and a cold compress and immediately grins like a little demon. “baby…” he rasps. “no.” “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.” “you were gonna say something disgusting and then try to kiss me with your sick-ass mouth.” “…okay yeah but in my defense i’m very charming when i’m near death.” you sigh, placing the medicine down. he props himself up, blinking slowly like he’s trying to flirt through actual respiratory distress “come here. i wanna kiss you…” “jeongin you’re going off to blow your nose.” he pouts, genuinely offended. “so what, you don’t wanna make out with your sexy little plague rat of a boyfriend??” “correct.” “wow. coward behavior.” he starts crawling toward you like a zombie but sexy??? his voice drops an octave,still congested, and he gives you his best sultry stare. “c’mon, baby. don’t you wanna… sweat together?” “…what the actual fuck.” you dodge when he leans in to kiss you. he stops mid-air. “did you just. DODGE me.” “yes because you’re sweating and breathing like darth vader and tried to lick my face five seconds ago” “THAT WAS LOVE LANGUAGE” he throws himself back on the bed like you rejected his marriage proposal. “i can’t believe this. rejected in my time of need.” you toss him the cold compress “cool your horny little forehead.” he mumbles under his breath while placing it on his face“if i die tomorrow, just know it was the heartbreak that got me, not the virus.” bonus: you go to check if he fell asleep. he lifts the compress just enough to say: “you still think i’m hot though, right?” you raise a brow. “…sick hot.” he smirks. “i’ll take it.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

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wild-jackalope · 2 months ago

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summary :: virgin sex with your sinister boyfriend, Mark!

warning :: rough, virgin sex, p in v woo, fem reader, relationship is def fucked up, 'I can fix him', sex hurting, missionary, not my usual smut so lmk if its any good, smut w/ no plot, fucking u will make me stronger!! - sinister Mark, dub-con (?)

note :: inspired by stuff written by @slutla love that b, go read her stuff

He hadn't knocked—he never really did. You just looked up and saw him. Floating in the centre of your room like it was his.

"Mark?" His name slipped out soft and gasped, a flicker of fear in your throat. The feeling settled in your stomach when the black and yellow registered.

That look on his face—you knew it. The specific knot in his brow, the strained frown. It wasn't tender sincerity, it never was.

I'm about to feel you up like you're my personal doll. The look said.

It had become your role, unspoken but absolute: be there.

Take him in. Soothe the ache in his skull with your soft body. Let him bury everything he didn’t know how to say beneath your bruising skin.

He moved without a word, kneeled at the edge of your bed, and pushed your legs apart. His mouth met yours with intent and a surprising reverence.

You tried to soak it up as much as possible, tasting the crumbs of love through his lips. Kisses like that made it all worth it—to you at least.

It was a needed reminder that Mark loved you.

His tongue swiped across the cavern between your lips, a claim.

Affection had crept in over time. Mark had never known kind love, Nolan was a cruel father who only offered praise when shown incredible power and his Mum had passed at such a young age he likely didn't hold any memories of her cuddles. You knew that well, it being a piercing reminder that kept you tethered to him.

Mark didn't care for casual touches, curt kisses or cuddles at night.

The feeling of you opening your lips to let him in and letting loose a moan which you couldn't hold back was what he preferred.

"Fuckin' missed you," he murmured, his guttural words vibrating onto your lips.

Mark shed the tight fabric of his mask, tossing it across your floor.

He stared down at you with dark eyes shaded by frantic hair, jaw tight and face littered with a light flush alongside red cuts.

"Mark..." you frowned, taking his face in your hands.

He took your wrists, holding them with a pressure that made it hard to move your fingers. "I'm fine."

He hated words. He preferred to hear you sob.

He returned to the feverish exploration of your mouth, releasing you only after guiding your hands to his hair. Clear in what he wanted: your touch.

Your fingers dipped through his messy hair, nails running along his scalp in long, gentle rakes. They trailed down his neck and across his shoulders. A tremble passed.

"God," he grunted, closing the minuscule space between you to have you compressed to the place where he longed for you the most.

Hungry fingers devoured you, sliding under your shirt and chasing the desire to feel your flushed flesh.

Then one had dipped lower, between your legs.

His palm cupped your heat, holding you there and feeding off your startled reaction. This was new territory. You were familiar with the feeling of his hand palming the fat of your breasts, or the squeeze of his hand against your thighs until he left bruises in his wake.

But his middle finger pressing into the indent of your clothed sex was entirely new, and it made you shrink beneath him.

"This your first time?" He asked, no hints of affection lacing his question only something territorial and dog-like.

"Yeah," you nodded once and swallowed thickly.

Your eyes peered down without thinking, catching on the obvious bump over the base of his suit, demanding to be freed of the trapping fabric.

A grin grew across his face, both satisfied and threatening. "Cool."

He let the pressure of his palm sink in further into your heat, his other hand pressed into your ribs and keeping you still against the plush bed.

"You gonna let me?" He asked, too casually.

"Do—do you want to?" the way you considered him was so sickeningly sweet. He puffed an amused exhale.

"I wanna hear you say it."

He didn't care for consent, he wanted devotion.

You nodded, slow and dizzy. "Yes, I want to have sex with you."

His lips fell to yours with a crashing passion again, his tongue already fighting to explore yours.

"Marhk—" his name muffled in your mouth, enunciation taken by his hasty exploration of your spit-soaked cavern. You weren't sure if he was too taken up in the lust of it all, or if he did hear and just didn't care.

You attempted to recline your head back, but Mark only followed you until you were wedged between him and the bed. Then, you took his burly shoulders in your hands and pushed against him.

He stilled, annoyed.

"What."

"I love you." You said, offering a weak but certain smile.

He kissed you harder, like a punishment for your empty words. "I know," he muttered, "that's why you'll take it."

His fingers slid under your pants and underwear, finally dragging along your bare slit. The first direct touch made you jerk, a helpless cry punched out of your throat.

"That's right," he exhaled, a breathy chuckle in his chest, "I wanna feel how much you love me."

He teased you for a moment longer—circling, dripping, spreading—until he decided it wasn't torturous enough. His fingers hooked around your bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in one strong pull.

You barely had time to breathe before he was stripping himself too, dragging his tight suit down to his waist, the shade of his cape no longer shielding your body. You closed your legs, unwilling to bear the naked humiliation.

But it didn't matter, because Mark pried your legs open with casual strength, like your legs were made up of nothing but thin bone.

Between the open space of your legs, you caught a glimpse of him—already hard, already glossy with pre.

He coated his tip in your slick and your body jolted in reaction. Which only had Mark forcing you further into the bed in an attempt to keep you still.

Then—without a breath of warning—he pushed inside.

He'd only glided against your insides halfway before you constricted at the sudden, alien pressure.

"Mark!"

But he continued, slowly, surely, concealing his thickness inside you. “Shit, that’s too much for you?” He asked, pressing his thumb to your clit.

It was. He could feel it in the violent tremble of your insides, and the way blood soared through your veins with how quickly your heart pumped. Your body was fighting him, but you weren't going to stop him.

You forced down the ball building up your throat with a swallow. "No, I'm okay," you assured.

His thumb began moving against your clit, drawing slow, deliberate circles. The only sign of softness.

"Don't lie to me," he muttered, "does it hurt?"

"Y-Yes."

The admission, the way you look up at him with something fragile in your eyes jolted his dick, and it throbbed against your constrictive insides.

It caressed something broken in him, something that made him press deeper into you. He leaned over you like a shadow and kissed you again, muffling your gasp as he started to move.

The first thrust felt like agony, his length forcing itself inside you and slowly sliding out before stuffing you again. Each rut of his hips jolted your body, but his hand kept you firm against the mattress.

You cried out, every blow to your insides shooting a stinging pain across your abdomen that followed with a quick aftertaste of pleasure.

His lips crushed yours, devouring every gasp and whimper. He kissed with teeth, with tongue, with the kind of force that sent your head spinning. His tongue grazed against your lower lip, before he sucked on the tender skin, leaving a bite sharp enough to leak hot blood, which he smoothed over with a slow, filthy lick.

You couldn't even try to keep up with him.

No one else could take him, not Cecil, not the guardians, not even his father, but you could—like this. Flushed and abused below him.

You could take the bruises, the nasty words, because you loved him. You loved him. It satisfied something deep and cruel inside him.

"Fuuuck." His head dipped to your shoulder, his lips still sweet with your metallic blood. "Let me go faster," he groaned, the words quavering against your shoulder.

"Okay," you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation.

"Yeah? Can I?" He asked—but it wasn't really a question, just a sweetly dressed demand to hear you say you wanted him to wreck you.

Each thrust that drilled into you after was a broken reminder that you were his, a reassurance that your body would remember him long after he'd pulled out and disappeared into the sky.

The previous pace had teetered near too much and now, with the quick smacks of skin and the way Mark's tip surged against your nerves had reached an overstimulating point, the pain and pleasure forced you too quickly over the waves of your climax.

Mark felt it—the full body shake and the throbbing tightness of your insides. The way you clenched around him in rhythmic waves.

Your nails clawed his shoulders, leaving desperate, white lines. Your eyes welled with shining tears and they escaped you in burning streams.

Mark skipped a thrust, only for a heartbeat to let you overwhelm his senses. Though he'd never say it aloud, Mark thought you looked beautiful.

When he threw his hips into you again, your next orgasm followed quick and hot behind your first.

This time, the sucking of your inside threw him over the edge, too.

You felt a new warmth pool inside you, sucked in by the twitching of Mark's dick. He groaned through clenched teeth, milked of his climax far too soon.

He pushed into you as deep as he could go, one final time, forcing his cum to dribble out of your stuffed sex. It had been tinted a light pink, mixed with specks of your blood.

You could hardly feel the tension that first strained your insides, just a numbing buzz left in the wake of Mark's quick thrusts.

He didn't speak, but his hand, rough and warm lifted you from its bruising entrapment of your body. You gasped, a space in your lungs that you hadn't known was stolen by the pressure filled again.

"Breathe," he muttered.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing.

He only stared at you, eyes dark and feral. As if daring you to say you loved him.

You took his cheek with a shaky breath and pressed a weak kiss to his lips, raw and filled with sincerity. It was confession enough.

#invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x oc #invincible x reader #invincible x y/n #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #sinister mark #sinister mark x reader #sinister mark x you #sinister mark x reader smut

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theyluvjake · 3 months ago

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our little secrets — lhs

pt1 pt2 pt3 (make sure to read pt1 first if you havent!!)

Synopsis: cam boy heeseung. class president reader. the schools perfect student harbors a dirty secret, a dirty secret thats alot closer to her than she realizes. what happens when their paths cross? will they discover eachothers little secret?

MINORS DNI!

PAIRINGS - camboy!heeseung x innocent!reader

CONTENT - college au, smut & fluff with plot!! series, slow-burn, multiple chapters.

WORDCOUNT - 8k

WARNINGS - smut, this chapter doesn't have any sex (yet), just mutual / guided masturbation. caming, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll, slut), praise & degradation, honestly hand kink. mentions of corruption kink. like last chapter, hee is a bit of a perv. but we like that <3

NOT PROOFREAD!

"ook.. so, what was that all about?" sunghoon sort of spoke underneath his breath. it was silent for a while amongst the group minus some of them taking sips of their drinks.

"she probably just... - had to pee! " sunoo blurtted out to fill the silence, only to make it fall silent again,

"ill go check on her-" yunjin was just about to turn to leave when heeseung stopped her.

"no, i can go check,"

his smile was soft and reassuring. yunjin was slightly taken aback as he volunteered, but her curiosity in whatever was going on with him and his new found interest in you, made her back down, silently agreeing by nodding her head.

maybe it was a bad friend mood sending a guy you didn't really know that well to check on you instead of her, but she just needed to see where it would go... y'know, for the plot.

heeseung swiftly made his way through the crowds of people heading straight to the guest bathroom,

*knocks* "um.. y/n are you okay?" fuck. wait what if its not even her in there?.. –

shit. why is he here?! the sound of his voice instantly sent your mind into a panicked spiral. - umm.. maybe i can just pretend im not in here and he will go away? yea! so you did, and you stayed silent.

"your friends just wanted to make sure you were okay... well and i wanted to talk to you."

he bit his lip, thinking he was probably just making whatever was going on worse. but he couldn't go back to the group without checking on you.

talk?? to me? why? this can't actually be happening right now. – y'know, maybe it's not him? maybe my thoughts are just all clouded... i'm just making up stuff..

— because there's no way. that would just be too insane.

you were full on in denial. it was unfortunately the only thing you realized you could do to get through the night. closing your eyes you took a deep breath before opening the door eyes instantly meeting the boys pretty doe eyed brown ones.

"um, sorry, yea i'm ok! just... had an eyelash in my eye.." you giggled nervously.

"ah, ok ok... i was worried it was something i said.." the corner of his lips tugged upwards as a small rush of relief washed over.

"is.. that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"yea, well, and i wanted to still offer you that drink" he couldn't help but smirk as he noticed the light flush of pink painting your cheeks.

you paused for a second. "...well, the thing is i just don't really usually drink..."

"yea, and you usually don't go to parties." he chuckled.

he did make a good point. you didn't, so why would you draw the line at your new experiences now. one drink, that's all. it would be fine right?

"that's also true," you smiled, still feeling anxious, but now having a burning curiosity about him. "sure, i'll take one drink"

he nodded satisfied and before you could register anything, his hand moved to your lower back ever so slightly, just to guide the two of you back towards the kitchen.

the simple feeling of his hand just barely grazing, hovering, over your back was sending waves of electricity through your body.

"so, class prez, what are you doing out at a college party tonight?"

"oh.. um, well it was sort of yunjin and sunoo's idea. i wasn't super on board but... i was curious since i'd never been before."

"ah, i see. i was surprised to see you here." he chuckled, "well, i think everyone was" -

you were about to respond when his voice continued on,

"pleasant surprise though," he said ever-so casually.

you gulped down the knot in your throat and tried to steady your racing heartbeat, but thankfully, before you knew it, you reached the kitchen.

you nervously leaned against the counter while he poured the two of you some drinks before he went to pass you the cup. you hadn't yet looked down, hand reaching for the cup, "thank yo-" then you saw it. his hand.

his awfully familiar, perfectly veiny hand, that just so happened to have 2 identical silver rings on the exact fingers gamer.lhee also frequently had ones on.

you couldn't even finish your sentence before you mumbled something along the lines of 'you had to go', before embarrassingly turning around and completely sprinting away from him.

not long after your disappearing act with heeseung you stayed on the other side of the house, hidden behind yunjin and sunoo, before you managed to make a good enough excuse to leave.

—

after you had gotten home that night, you refused to even look at his page. although that was all your mind wanted to do, to end the burning question and just try and confirm or not confirm that it was him. but you couldn't. not when it felt so possible. not when you knew you had to be in class with him tomorrow.

you attempted to get as good of a night's rest as you could. but it wasn't much, not when you basically got home at 1 am, and weren't able to shut your brain off until around 3 before you could sleep. leaving you with approximately only 5 hours of sleep the next day.

in the morning, you got ready for class, your usual almost uniform-like attire. you just prayed you'd be able to make it through the day without anyone asking about you at the party last night. and above all, not running into heeseung.

you were so embarrassed, you honestly had no clue what you would be able to say to him. it's not like the two of you interacted much, anyways. so why would it be different? yea! it will be fine!

besides before the conversation you two had at the party, you weren't even aware you shared the same literature and physics class, meaning he probably typically sat far across the room from the spot you always sat in. so in theory, all you had to do was try and focus and not think about whether you could feel his eyes lingering on you or not.

however you did not plan for what you saw when you walked into your literature class. lee heeseung, already there, sitting in your chair. sure, there wasn't technically, 'assigned seats' but everyone in the class knew, you sat in that spot every single class.

karma. you weren't sure what for, but this had to be some kind of cruel form of karma. you stood in the doorway for a little too long, to where students now had to nudge past you to get inside the classroom. you were just trying to think of any possible way out of this interaction. but you couldn't avoid him forever. you took a deep breath, fully aware your cheeks had definitely started to turn pink, before walking over to your seat.

heeseung instantly looked up at you with a smirk painting his face, "what? i just figured I'd see how the class president's view of the classroom looks." he shrugged.

"well... now that you've tested it out, could i possibly have my seat back?"

"i don't know... now that i've tried it out, i realized how nice the view is... plus, i'm not doing that great in this class, i think maybe sitting closer will help me with my notes~"

"but-"

"well the seat right next to me is open, you should sit there. you don't mind if i just have yours for the day, right?"

he still wore the same playful smirk on his face, only leading to your face heating up more by the second. you briefly took a look around, at the room, and then the clock. noticing how it was only a couple minutes until the class was starting, and pretty much every empty seat had already filled except for the one next to heeseung.

you sighed and set your books down on the desk, and reluctantly took a seat next to him. before you could even appreciate the shared silence between you two for not even a minute,

"y'know, i didn't really expect you to be the type to ghost a guy mid-sentence."

you gulped and tried to come up with some better excuse but you had nothing.

"yea... um i'm really sorry about that, i don't usually do that or anything.."

he raised his eyebrows curious as to the actual reason to why you ran off, but he didn't push further, instead he chose to use it to tease you.

he chuckled lightly, "don't worry about it, you looked cute running away from me"

he said so matter-of-factly that your jaw almost dropped before you heard the professor speaking, causing the class to finally silence.

"ok class, everyone phones away"

the rest of class, you could barely focus. which was completely unlike you. you couldn't stop thinking about the words.. "pretty", "cute" replaying on loop in your head. as much as you wanted to just pay attention, you couldn't, not when he was only a couple feet away from you.

he easily took note of it too. subtly glancing over at your dazed, flustered expression throughout the entire class.

thankfully, the rest of the class no other words were exchanged. no more teasing or flirty remarks, you finally felt a bit of relief like that was the worst of what would come out of today. but heeseung, he had other plans, he was just starting. this was only your first of three shared classes of the day and his main goal was just to get your attention in every single one.

your next class, you got a break. and then it was on to the two last classes of the day, both of which you shared. economics, and physics.

when you got to your economics class, you took a look around, noticing he wasn't there yet. you quickly took your seat in your usual spot before yunjin joined on your left side.

"ugh, i am so tired," she whined to you,

"tell me about it..." you muttered underneath your breath. the class slowly filled as you chatted with your best friend for the remaining time before the class started. getting so distracted you forgot about heeseung. it wasn't until a little while into class, you heard a familiar voice whispering in your ear. your eyes went wide.

"hey, what page were we on again?"

heeseung. you had been so distracted you failed to even notice heeseung had came in and sat directly behind you.

you carefully turned your head just a little before realizing how close his face was to yours. "um-.. it's 32" you quickly whispered directing your attention back to the front of the room.

"thanks, pretty" he winked before leaning back into his own chair, smiling satisfied.

the heat instantly rose to your face upon hearing the familiar nickname again. the same one that ignited a visceral reaction within you that night at the party, due to the familiarity of the tone, the voice.

the remainder of the class, he continued making up excuses to teasingly lean over, whispering into your ear and your best friend was nothing short of intrigued.

as soon as the professor turned away from the class his lips were practically pressed up against your ear and you felt like you were going insane.

"hey, i missed that part, could i take a quick look at your notes?" he hummed quietly, face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

"s-sure, just.. quick" you muttered quietly afraid of being caught speaking while your professor was still mid-lecture.

you carefully passed your notebook over your shoulder, his hands taking it from yours, purposely brushing his fingers over yours in the process. - anxiously tapping the floor with your foot, waiting for him to give it back to you.

"are you almost done?" you slightly leaned to the side, whispering, as the professor had turned around and continued speaking, and you were anxious to have your notebook returned.

"yea, you want it back?" the boy smirked, not that you could see, but you could feel it through the smugness in his voice.

"say please~."

he cannot be serious. "what..?"

"just say please"

you sighed, ignoring the hammering of your heart against your chest.

"please?" you whispered, looking straight forward. but it was more than enough. right as the professor turned away for a brief second, he leaned over enough to place your notebook back onto your desk.

looking down, you quickly made yourself busy, continuing to take notes and try to stuff down all the emotions flowing through your body. that's when you noticed a tiny note written in the corner of your paper.

you look cute when you're blushing. ;)

and just like that you were sure your face was now completely red.

"hey are you okay?" yunjin leaned over noticing how red you were.

"yeah, i'm just hot.. it's a little hot in here" you muttered before removing your sweater.

thankfully the class was nearing the end, finally. as soon as the class was dismissed you quickly packed up your bag and grabbed yunjin's hand rushing the both of you out of the classroom.

"so... what the hell was heeseung doing all up in your space the whole class??"

"i don't know!"

"oh my god, that's why your face was red! you were blushing! do you have a crush on him?? since when?!"

"shut up!" you whispered trying to keep her from practically yelling about this in the hallway. "no! i don't, so since never."

"okayy well can't say the same for him..~" she giggled and you hit her arm.

"shut up. you're imagining stuff." you huffed before the both of you made it into your physics classroom.

this time you were determined to make sure he couldn't sit near you. quickly hopping into the seat next to jake and instructing yunjin to sit on your other side, before you also waved sunoo over, who had just come walking in the door to sit behind you. a sigh of relief left your mouth, seeing how all the seats in your close proximity had already been filled.

you hadn't even noticed heeseung walking in, and taking the seat across from yunjin.

"hey y/n!" jake smiled at you and your gaze lifted greeting him back with a friendly smile.

"hey jake!" - "how was the party last night? everyone was surprised to see you there, did you have fun?"

"oh yea, it was fun.. i guess, - not exactly my thing though." you chuckled quietly before continuing your friendly chit-chat with jake before the class eventually came to a start.

jake was easy to talk to. you two weren't exactly close, but closer than you and heeseung. jake was really good at physics. everyone knew that, so there were a few times he helped you out by offering a few quick study sessions after school at the library. so naturally the two of you did talk when it came to this class.

thankfully, the rest of this class went by smoothly. it was just about nearing the end before the professor announced you would be doing a partner assignment.

"so, pick someone to pair up with. this will be due next week, so please make sure to schedule some time outside of class to work on this with your partner. once you have chosen, before you leave today, just come write down your partnership!"

before you could think,

"hey, do you wanna be partners?" jake smiled, turning to you. and you almost sighed in relief. though yunjin, who had also turned to you, rolled her eyes.

"sure! honestly, i could use some extra help with this unit.. " you smiled to him before the two of you walked to the front of the class to write your names down.

none of which went un-noticed by heeseung. practically burning holes into his friends back. before he could stare any longer he got a backup plan in mind, turning to your best friend just before she had turned to sunoo. "hey, yunjin, do you wanna be partners?"

she was caught off guard at first but then she put 2 and 2 together figuring this was some effort to still get close to you. "sure" she smiled and sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically.

"ugh, i hate you both, you are both the worst." he pouted before turning to sunghoon, "sunghoon, do you have a partner?"

the boy pushed up his glasses before looking up "uh, no?"

"ok, now you do, come on," he said giving him almost no room to even argue before they both walked up to the front together as well.

after all of you had written down your partnerships you all exited the lecture hall agreeing to go to the library so you guys could plan what days you needed to get together to work on the assignment.

"y'know, why don't we all just get together at our house and we can all work together? heeseung was quick to suggest as soon as you all sat down.

"don't the three of you also share a dorm already?" he asked pointing to you yunjin and sunoo to which you all nodded.

"so, since jake, sunghoon, and i share a place and ours is bigger than a dorm, we should all just meet up together there." all of you looked around to see what everyone thought, and it was quickly agreed upon that that was a good idea.

not that you agreed necessarily, but you were quickly outnumbered, on top of that yunjin's enthusiasm was utterly confusing. you all agreed to meet up on friday to work on the assignment. all of you exchanging numbers before going on your separate ways.

—

the next few days rolled around and heeseung seemed to have let down on his teasing for a little bit, and thank god. because you were already stressed about friday the rest of the week. then, thursday came around. your phone dinged as you lay in your bed rolling around on your phone, seeing the notification pop up,

gamer.lhee is live now!

you hadn't even been on his page since the party last sunday. but you couldn't even deny how much you missed it without more time to think, you joined the stream.

you sat up feeling the heat rising to your face, he was fully clothed, the angle just showing his lap and his hands fidgeting with his rings while he chatted with those on the stream.

blushy.baby has entered the chat

"hi blushy.baby, welcome in~" he chuckled to himself, reading the username. oddly or maybe not, it reminded him of you. "cute username, reminded me of someone,"

who??

maybe he has a girlfriend?

maybe a crush?

the comments started rolling in, causing him to chuckle a bit more. "no, i don't have a girlfriend," he clarified, but carefully neglected the ones regarding if he had a crush or not. causing you to try and swallow the lump in your throat. intently watching between the screen and the chat room.

"blushy baby, joins but never talks~ is it because you're shy and blushy~?"

you felt the air get caught in your throat, hearing him single out your username. making your head spin, could he... know? fuck. no! i mean, it's probably not even lee heeseung. like you said, there's no way.

"it's okay, it's cute, i have a thing for cute shy girls." he hummed

blushy.baby: really?

"yes, something about.. about them, i don't know,.. maybe i have a corruption kink." he chuckled darkly before trailing off again ", proud of you for finally commenting something, baby. keep it up, yeah?"

and just like that you carefully squeezed your thighs together. fuck. it wasn't until now, when the comments were so direct, so personal, that you realized how much you loved hearing praises from him. if there was any way to keep you commenting, this was it.

blushy.baby: i will if you keep talking to me like that...

"oh yea?, you like being praised baby, hm? "

"- i was wondering what i should do for today's stream... maybe we can do some praising. maybe some guided masturbation? what do you pretty dolls think?"

the chat instantly sped up with enthusiasm and he chuckled at the eagerness.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" he hummed his hand lightly grazing over his crotch area where you should start to see the outline of his boner growing.

"alright, now be a good girl for me and take off your pants first hm? dont worry ill follow along." he said as he carefully lifted his hips up in his chair before pulling down his pants leaving him in just his boxer briefs.

like you were put under some sort of trance, you set your phone down against your pillow before lifting your own hips and pulling down your pajama shorts leaving you in just your underwear.

"thats it, just like that," he hummed satisfied, and it almost felt like he could see you. like it was just you and him.

"okay, now leave your panties on, just touch outside for me, hm? just like this" his hand slowly started to stroke the outline of his hardened cock through the strained fabric of his boxers.

and you did the same, slipping your hand down cupping yourself, feeling the moistened material of your underwear clinging to your skin already. letting out a small helpless mutter.

"you're already wet for me arent you? dirty slut."

the sudden use of such degrading words, mixed with his still soft tone, and praises l make your hips shudder. you liked that too... really liked it.

"its ok though, b',cus you're my pretty little slut~, aren't you?" he cooed before letting a small deep chuckle breathe past his lips. he continued, painstakingly slowly stroking himself, the wet patch from his pre-cum leaking out now evident, only soaking you more as you stared at the screen and continued to palm yourself.

"ok lets get rid of these now too, they are in the way." he lifted his hips again just enough to slowly pull down his boxers simultaneously also pulling his shirt over his head. letting his big, stiff and hardened cock hit his stomach as it sprang out.

"look what you do to me.." he grabbed himself in his hand making sure the camera got a good angle of his angry red tip, leaking of pre-cum. "wish i could see what i do to you..." he hummed slowly starting to stroke himself.

on the other side of the screen you were practically drooling just at the sight. your hips needily rutting against your hand. before you too removed the last remaining of your clothes.

"go on, touch yourself." his voice was low and demanding. and it didn't take long for your fingers to slowly start circling your clit.

"mm, thats it baby" he hummed. "now, i want you to imagine its my fingers ok? not yours, mine touching you."

you gulped and closed your eyes doing just as he said and the second you let your imagination roam the better it felt. imagining what his large hands, long fingers would feel like all over you. having the precision that you lacked deeply.

"good girl." - "faster."

at this point, you could barely suppress the whines leaving your mouth, but fearing your roommates would hear you, you turned your head to the side muffling the sounds into the pillow as best you could.

"fuck, i wish i was inside you right now. wanna fuck your tight little cunt." he moaned lowly. and little did you know, the entire time he was thinking about you. about fucking you.

the dirtiness of the words made your brain start to feel weird and fuzzy. your pussy fluttered clenching helplessly around nothing. not even your fingers because still, you had yet to venture into doing anything other than stimulating your clit.

"fuck. im gonna cum. you wanna cum for me, hm baby?" his hand sped up the squelching sounds from the way he was fucking himself into his hand were pounding in your earbuds.

you mindlessly nodded your head as if he could see you, feeling the knot in your stomach building, you were so close.

"lets cum together, yeah? i wanna cum inside you." the sheer thought of that alone sent you flying over the edge the second the words left his lips.

and just like that he started to reach his high as well. imagining what it would feel like to stuff you full. "oh fuck, yes, im coming.." his moans got louder and you continued to rub messy circles on your clit as you rode out your high, your legs and hips shaking and squirming beneath your own touch.

your eyes fluttered open as you slowly started coming down from your immense high. seeing the lewd image on the screen, hee's hand still wrapped around his cock, messy, with cum dripping down everywhere.

"good girl, you did so good for me, pretty." he hummed sweetly. and in that moment you heard it again. not gamer.lhee, lee heeseung. 'pretty'.

it was him.

the sound rang in your ears all you could think about was what it would actually be like to actually be on the receiving end of those words. not through a screen. not to the thousands of others watching him. but to you and only you.

not long after that, the stream ended. leaving you with a world-wind of emotions. but it was already so late. you didn't have time or honestly even the capacity in your brain after all of that to think. you carefully cleaned yourself up before getting back into your bed and passing out almost immediately from exhaustion.

how the fuck. where you going to face him tomorrow.

—

the next morning when you finally woke up, you felt so nervous about the day that you felt physically sick. after the stream last night, it only strengthened your theory on whether or not gamer.lhee was lee heeseung.

you were almost sure of it. and there was no way you could face him today. but yet, you had to.

situation being what it is, you devised a plan, well. kinda. the plan basically entailed ignoring heeseungs presence at all costs. just focus on the project and jake. easy enough, right?

after the day of classes went by, you and your two best friends returned to your shared dorm to get ready before heading over to the boy's house.

"ok, what should we wear?" yunjin spoke almost excitedly as if you were going out to hang out with friends, not work on some boring assignment.

"um... i was gonna wear sweats? what is that not appropriate study attire?" you asked as you walked together through the dorm,

"no that's perfectly appropriate! that's what i was gonna wear too!" sunoo was quick to reassure you only to receive an elbow in the side from yunjin. "OW! what was that-" he rolled his eyes and clutched his side dramatically while giving him a face before continuing with you.

"like sweatshirt and sweatpants?"

"yes?"

"no."

"no?"

"no. how about sweats and a cropped baby tee? still cute but comfy!"

"what is up with you?? why do you care what i wear to work on a school project??" you quickly nipped back at her, unlike your usual demnor, but you were getting slightly irritated, confused as to what the reason for all of this was.

"ok seriously? y/n. heeseung has literally been flirting with you ever since the party, are you that clueless?? i saw all of it in class. plus pretty much all of his friends were eating you with their stares as well. and well, they are all hot. this is your chance!!"

"my chance for what exactly?" you questioned noticing the sudden warmth that had risen to your cheeks. quickly turning away as both of them followed into your room.

"like i don't know, a boyfriend, a sex friend? so many possibilities.." she giggled but not in the way that she was joking, in the way that she was completely and utterly serious. "and that means you admit it right? he was flirting with you!"

"you're crazy. and i don't know! ok! i don't know what's going on with him lately, he's being weird." you obviously were trying to deflect because you obviously couldn't believe let alone admit any of this yet.

"just trust me ok, ill be the best wing-woman, just let me help." she pleaded.

"no, not tonight i need to focus, i need to get a good grade on this project."

yunjin sighed dramatically. "ugh. fine, but you are wearing what i said. i won't interject anything, but the outfit I'm just gonna test a theory ok?"

"whatever.." you finally gave in, just hoping it would make her shut up, and it did. for now at least.

the three of you all got ready which didn't entail all that much since you were already coming from class. you changed into a pair of low-rise baggy grey sweats that pooled at your ankles and paired it with a basic white baby tee that was practically skin tight, just slightly cropped showing the tiniest bit of your stomach. leaving your hair down you fixed your already practically perfect curls, before touching up your flawless makeup.

"you guys ready?" you walked out into the living room finding sunoo, yunjin not far behind.

"yup!"

by the time you guys arrived at the boy's shared house, it was around 4:30pm. yunjin carefully knocked on the door and you anxiously shifted on your feet fidgeting with your school bag before the door was answered. it was jake. you sighed a little in relief.

"hey guys! come on in!" the fluffy-haired boy smiled and the three of you entered into the shared home.

"the guys are in the living room, it's pretty big so we figured we could all just work in there or if it's too loud we can split up around the house, i don't know whatever you guys think works we are cool with!"

jake smiled before leading you all to the living room, not before he got a nice look at you though. he hadn't really taken the time to notice how pretty you were. not until the party when everyone saw you outside of your school persona. but seeing you in his house, in daylight, in casual clothes you looked adorable.

once you reached the living room everyone started to greet each other slowly taking seats around. but as soon as you stepped foot in there you could feel a particularly heavy gaze set on you. heeseung.

you didn't even look at him but you knew it was him. and it was. he didn't even hold back the small lip bite as his eyes drank in your figure from top to bottom only to be brought back to reality when your best friend stepped in front of him.

there was a few other figures lingering around as well. it was jay and jungwon. i guess they didn't need a reason, this is their house but it felt a little strange before the two of them talked. just chatting and letting everyone know they were around if anyone needed help finding anything or food. it was clear though to most that they were just curious, as to what was going on, and more so who was in their house right now.

after everyone got sort of settled in different areas of the room, you and jake took a spot in the corner with some pillows on the floor and spread out your notes and textbooks. "so, did you look over any of the requirements yet?" jake spoke softly,

"oh, uh, no... not yet sorry.." your tone was quickly guilt-ridden and worried before jake was quick to reassure you.

"no, no problem at all, i already did so you didn't have to." he smiled, getting out the instructions given by your professor. "ill just give you a small run-down, and then we can work together on the rest, sound good?" you nodded.

"oh and let me know if im going too fast or you don't understand something, not that you won't... you are like the top student of the school. but just in case y'know,... i know physics isn't your favorite, so honestly, i don't mind doing most of the work!" he smiled reassuringly and for some reason it almost made you blush. you weren't sure exactly why, maybe because you two were finally in such close proximity alone together.

either way, what you hadn't noticed was how heeseung noticed. everything. his jaw was clenched starting holes into jake and you before yunjin brought him back to reality.

"ok, heeseung, could you stop eye-fucking y/n for at least like 5 seconds?"

"what?" heeseung looked back at her barely even acknowledging what she said.

"i agreed to be your partner, god knows why because i know you actually suck at this class, so come on please lets just get something done."

"oh yea... sure, sorry.." he sighed and redirected his focus to the papers infront of him.

about and hour and a half went by and everyone kept to themselves, or moreso, their partnerships. trying to get as much done as possible, before inevitably needing some sort of break.

"my brain hurts..." you whined slightly rubbing your temples. earning a small chuckle from jake.

"we make a pretty good team though, huh? look were almost done in one day!" he gestured down at your work proudly and heeseung overheard the whole thing, getting irritated he walked over to the two of you.

"hey y/n you okay?" your heart dropped hearing the framilar voice, slowly looking up to meet his face.

"oh yea... im fine" you muttered and jake looked up confused as well at the boys sudden approach.

"i just saw you rubbing your head, does it hurt? i have some tylenol if you need some,"

"oh shit, does it? i thought you were just joking around, let me go get some-" jake quickly went to stand up,

"no no!! im fine seriously, i think i just need some water and a snack or something, thats all!"

"say less," jake smiled getting up before offering his hand to help you off the ground aswell, earning a heavy eyeroll from heeseung.

"come on ill show you where we keep the best snacks" he smiled and gently brushed his hand across your lower back guiding you to the kitchen with him. a framilar feeling from when heeseung did the same exact thing to you at the party.

which heeseung instantly noticed and pissed him off even further.

"snacks? hell yea fuck this " sunghoon instantly stood up and so did the others everyone gravitating towards the kitchen for a small snack break.

heeseung followed closely behind the two of you, before he stopped biting his tongue, and decided he had enough of jakes hands on you.

heeseung swiftly came up behind jake,

"hey sim, pretty sure this project doesnt require such a hands-on approach." he glared before turning his direction towards you. jake just looked at his friend confused at the sudden passive aggressive comment.

"you good? you don't need jake to babysit you, right?" heeseung stepped between the two of you creating enough space between the two of you for his comfort. grabbing you a bottle of water from the fridge. "here, and let me know if your head gets worse and you need the tylenol, hm?"

heeseungs sudden attentiveness had your heart racing and your stomach fluttering. and the tension between him and jake was palpable now. you tried to make sure to maintain your composure (you weren't.)

because when you reached out to take the water bottle from his hand you instantly had flashbacks to last night. that hand, his hand, his voice, him. you nearly dropped it when the boy caught it and handed it to you again "careful there pretty, you sure you're okay? –" he leaned in subtly enough to where it wouldn't look suspicious. "or do i just make you nervous" he smirked quickly pulling back before casually taking a seat.

the others were all already sitting around the kitchen table, snacks in hand chatting and eating. You took a seat in the only empty chair, almost as if it was intentional, the only seat open was between both jake and heeseung. You reluctantly sat down anxiously sipping on your water, almost completely silent as the rest of the group chatted among themselves.

"wait, guys i have an idea.." yunjin suddenly speaks up and the misciclanious chatter quiets. "lets play a game... y'know, as a break while were here, - how about truth or dare?"

everyone looks around but it doesnt take but a couple seconds for everyone to agree. partially because all of you were so bored, but mostly because it gave everyone an excuse to procrastinate for a little while longer.

"i'm down" jake and sunghoon immediately responded in which heeseung followed.

"can we play too?" jay and jungwon walked up hearing the commotion from the kitchen.

"the more the merrier!" sunoo clapped his hands excitedly and you almost let your whole head fall on the counter hoping it would hit hard enough to knock you out.

"who wants to go first?"

"ill go!" jungwon quickly volunteered

"ok, truth or dare jungwon?" yunjin asks sitting up on her elbows.

"truth"

"If you had to survive the zombie apocalypse with one person in this room, who would it be?"

jungwon sighed as he looked around thinking deeply about his answer.

"shit... i dont know i feel like im probably fucked with all of you to be honest but, maybe jay or jake? I know jay can fight, and well jake is studying in healthcare so he could probably help keep me alive.."

"yess sirr!" jake chuckled and posed proudly while jay laughed, nodding.

"ok sure, but don't make it seem like i just go around beating people up won..."

the rest of the group went back and forth between some light hearted and casual truths + dares. heeseung, casually pulled out his phone, opening his twitter and deciding to tweet an update to his account as he frequently would. but it was weird,

at the exact same time he tweeted, your phone which was upside-down next to your arm buzzed. weird.

i mean obviously everyone gets notifications, he shouldn't have thought that much of it, but the timing was so perfect. he decided to send another one, and surely enough, your phone buzzed again. his eyebrows immedialty raised. no fucking way.

gamer.lhee: ??

he tweeted a third time, just a random series of question marks and right on time, your phone buzzed, a third and fourth time. and there you were, completely oblivious as to what was happening. too busy listening to the others playing the game to even notice your phone buzzing on the table.

he really had no way to prove it but he had to try. and the fact you were all playing truth or dare made it even easier. he quickly set his phone down and re-focused his attention to the rest of the group.

"ok, heeseung, you haven't gone yet, truth or dare" yunjin smirks and you can only pray to god she doesn't say anything stupid, but you know her.

"truth"

"who in this room would you trust the most with a secret?"

perfect.

"y/n." heeseung quickly and casually responds, to which his best friend gasp offenedly.

"dude are you serious, in a room full of your best friends??" jake scofs

heeseung shrugs, "i don't know, something just tells me that y/n is really good at keeping secrets."

you immediately turned your head, feeling your heartbeat quicken, so fast that it had you debating if you would go into cardiac arrest. why... how.. why would he,,.. why would he say that??? he can't know. how would he know.

you just looked up at him flustered and confused and he just shrugged again keeping the same smug smirk on his face. "am i wrong?" he asked but this time quiet and directed at you.

"ok my turn to ask!" sunoo shouted excitedly, seeing that the questions and dares were starting to pick up in the heat.

"y/n, truth or dare?"

your eyes widened like a warning towards sunoo instantly. what best friends they are. you were practically begging him with your look to go easy on you but you knew he wasn't.

you rubbed your temples trying to gauge which choice would be less lethal. truth, right?

"truth, i guess.."

"ok, when was the last time you thought about kissing someone..." he pauses briefly before finishing the question, "- in this room?"

your face said everything.

"oh?" sunghoon raised his eyebrows curiously as pretty much everyone in the room, except for 3 people seemed surprised. yunjin, sunoo, and heeseung. who wore a smug smirk on his face.

"oh? so, recently then?" sunoo teases further only causing your face to redden even more.

jake quickly also turned his attention to you, although he didn't want to make you even more embarrassed, so he said nothing. just sat in silence wondering who it could be. feeling a slight twinge of jealousy.

"n-no.." your voice quickly betrayed you as your words stumbled out in a stutter. "i don't, i mean, - i haven't thought about,.. kissing, anyone! , ever!"

"you are literally such a bad lair." yunjin scofs

jake quickly noticed how red your face was, and whilst heeseung was relishing in your flustered state, jake quickly took it into his hands to help his partner out of the situation.

"ok my turn, no one has asked me yet!" jake says to the group eyes starting to re-direct to the boys.

"ok, truth or dare jake" jay quickly replies

"dare"

"do your best impression of one of us"

jake carefully looks around before his eyes locked on his target for a second. jake proceeds to sassily cross his arms and roll his eyes hard, before giving jay a nasty side eye. collectively everyone started laughing

"sunoo." the group almost said in unison, as they continued laughing at jakes sassy impression of sunoo.

"hey!" sunoo snapped back but he couldn't even argue as it was completely accurate.

"ok, seriously though this was fun, we should get back to working now though," jake says while others boo and sigh

"hey i never said we couldn't continue this another time?" the rest of the group agreed and everyone went back into their spots in the living room.

everyone slowly got back into working on their projects and jake could tell your mind was elsewhere, so he without asking took on most of the work finishing up the project.

"hey y/n? can i ask you something?"

you turned quickly meeting the boys gaze,

"sure, what is it?" he paused for a minute before he asked you quietly, wanting to make sure no one overheard.

"is there something going on between you and heeseung?"

you eyes widened taken aback by jakes question,

"no, why..?" you quickly responded

"oh, i dont know, it just kinda seems like theres something going on between the two of you lately..."

"theres not! well.." you paused as you thought back to the night of the party. maybe he already told the guys what happened?

"well?"

"did he ever tell any of you what happened at the party?"

jake raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "no, did something happen between you two at the party?"

"no! well sorta... i just, he offered me a drink and i said yes and then i sorta.... ran away.."

you looked down fidgeting with your fingers. honestly you found jake easy to open up too. he was someone who was easy to talk to and instantly made anyone feel comfortable in his presence. so it wasnt hard to be truthful with him. it felt nice honestly.

its not like you couldn't talk to your best friends, its just that, you knew as soon as you did it would make it real. because they would encourage you, and you weren't exactly sure if thats what you wanted yet. with jake, he just was there to listen.

"why? - i mean, whyd you run away?"

"honestly... i dont know" you lied. obviously you couldn't tell him the full truth. you couldn't tell anyone.

"hey, well, if you ever need someone to talk to know that im around" he smiled warmly before playfully reaching over and ruffling your hair.

"i know yunjin and sunoo are great but its obvious they aren't always the most subtle people..." jake chuckled to which you did as well.

"yea, tell me about it."

"im here to listen, and i promise anything you tell me ill keep to myself." he smiled and you could tell he was being genuine.

"thanks jake" you smiled back warmly

"hey, at least we got the project done! no one else seemed to finished today. i bet we will get a 100%" he smiled bumping your arm and heeseung took note of the giggles and closeness clenching his jaw.

"you like her, dont you?"

heeseung snapped his head back to yunjin,

"is it that obvious?"

"hm, not really, well to me yea, but i dont think anyone else has noticed."

heeseung sighed as he admitted his feelings for the first time ever.

"good luck with that, she hasnt dated anyone since like middle school."

"so are you gonna help me out or what?"

"eh, maybe,– maybe if we get a good grade on this assignment."

heeseung sighs like hes doomed bc he knows whatever grade the both of them got on the project would be purely based off if yunjin knew what she was doing, because he did not.

"you are such an idiot, why do you think i agreed to be your partner when she partnered up with jake? its obvious that was the only reason you even asked me. "

"thanks," he smiled

"yea yea, whatever, u should probably hurry up, looks like jake thinks he has some sort of a chance too," she said and both of them shifted their direction to the two of you.

heeseung clenching his jaw as he saw the way jakes hand brushed over your arm.

"does she like him?" he asked gaze still fixated on the both of you.

"no idea, she doesnt talk about any of that, shes always so focused on school i havent heard anything about her having a crush in years."

the conversation slowly simmered out and heeseung got another idea as he saw you finally open your phone. he quickly pulled up his twitter account before tweeting again

gamer.lhee: "you watching me, angel?"

your face immediately turned red seeing the notification, clicking on it and seeing the previous ones. that's when it clicked. the whole time your ringer had been on. he was testing you. he knows.

you quickly stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, something that was seeming to become a habit now. heeseung followed behind before his arms cornered you against the hallway wall.

"heeseung, what are you-"

he leaned in, dangerously close, lips almost brushing against your ear.

"do you also get this flustered when you watch me at night too?"

- tbc.

dont forget to reblog if you enjoyed it!!! <3 super helpful and appreciated!!

note: also feel free to comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter!! im open to hearing feedback and whatever you guys enjoyed so i can make the next one better!! ^.^ tysm for reading!! hopefully i didnt make too many errors lol..

taglist!: @yohanabanana @heebear @4eeseungz @wonniewonsblog @yangjungwonnie @eugenia29-blog1 @merwdusa @river-demon-slayer @planetmarlowe @woniesbae @ad1m4ise @allthesqueaks @yoonglestangies @clxodyvesprr @millis-diary @immelissaaa @penny44224 (lmk if you'd like to be added <3!)

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months ago

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Sevika is the pe teacher and reader is the English teacher and reader is sweet to all the students and everyone loves her but sevika is more on the strict side, doesn’t actually matter what’s the plot i just need teacher!sevika x teacher!reader😭🙏

HELL YES

men and minors dni

"jinx, the bell rang five minutes ago, kiddo. what class are you supposed to be in?" you ask as you walk into your classroom, blowing on your fresh cup of coffee.

this is your planning period, and you never mind having a student or two visit you, but you know jinx better than to assume she's here on her study-hall and not skipping class.

"please don't make me go, teach."

"dr. singed's chemistry class?" you guess. he's notorious for his harsh grading rubric.

jinx shakes her head. "no, no, i've got an a in chem." she huffs. "it's gym class."

you laugh. "you don't like gym? i've seen you run down the halls, you're quick as hell. figured you'd love that stuff."

"fuck no. sevika's a monster! she's making us climb ropes and do pushups-- i can barely carry my backpack to school, what makes her think i can do a fuckin' pullup!?" jinx laments.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. you gesture to the little corner of bean bags, blankets, and books in your class, then pull open your desk drawer. "you can stay. but if principal merdarda or sevika comes in here i'm tellin' her you told me it's your study hall."

"you'd rat me out?!" jinx cries. you grab one of the many bags of chips you store in your bottom drawer and toss it to her where she's getting cozy in the beanbag. she grins. "flamers, fuck yeah!"

"in exchange for my hospitality... you need to tell me why i saw your sister fighting with a cop at the gay bar last weekend." you request.

jinx gasps, her eyes lighting up in delight at a chance to gossip about vi-- a girl you taught a few years ago.

"you party at the hound?!" jinx asks with a giggle. you shrug.

"is that so shocking?"

"you're badass underneath that cardigan, huh, teach?" jinx teases. she stands from the corner and drags her beanbag across the classroom, situating herself in front of your desk and digging into her flamers. "okay, so, a year ago vi got arrested at a protest, right?" jinx starts.

you nod along in amusement at jinx's story, dividing your attention between her and the essays you're grading.

zaun high is small enough that you get to really know the kids that roam the halls for four years, and jinx comes from a big family with a gaggle of kids you've only ever adored. it's good to hear that her brothers are doing well, that vi's figuring herself out.

you blink up at jinx when she takes a pause between stories, snacking on her food. "so i hear you've made things official with ekko."

jinx turns bright red and she squeaks as she hides behind her braids. "shut up!"

"had to lock him down before he gets elected class president, huh?" you tease. jinx squawks.

"okay, well, what about a rumor i heard that you're dating another teacher here!" jinx accuses, pointing at you.

you giggle and shrug. "mmm... maybe... but you'll never guess which." you say.

jinx scoffs and rolls her eyes. "oh please, it's so obvious. you and profe ran are always giggling together." she says.

you laugh. ran, the spanish teacher, is a childhood friend of yours, but they're certainly not the person you're dating. "sure, it's ran."

jinx frowns and squints at you. "the new college councilor?" she guesses.

"ms. grayson?" you ask. jinx nods. you laugh again. "that's hilarious. isn't she married?"

jinx huffs. "well, i dunno! are you even dating anyone?"

the door slams open and you both jump, turning to look at sevika.

fuck. she looks good. you're pretty sure she's been wearing her shortest possible shorts just to tease you. she's been using the increasingly warm weather as her excuse.

"jinx! the fuck are you doing?" she glares at the teenager.

jinx jumps out of her beanbag and scrambles to collect her belongings. you giggle.

"put the beanbag back before you go."

"fuck." jinx mumbles, scrambling some more.

sevika turns her glare from her missing student to you, striding up to your desk. you bite your lip as you watch her thighs ripple with each step. "you're harboring fugitive students now?"

"she told me it was her study hall." you lie.

jinx groans. "you rat!"

sevika huffs and glares down at you. you shrug and blink up at her innocently. with a quick glance at jinx where she's stuffing her face with the rest of her chips over the garbage can, you hold up a folder to block your mouth and whisper up at your girlfriend. "my place tonight?"

sevika's glare melts for just a moment, and she gives you a half nod and a wink before tunring on her heel and smacking the chips out of jinx's hand. "c'mon, before i give you detention." she huffs, dragging jinx out of your class by her backpack.

"see you in third period, jinx!" you call. jinx giggles and waves to you. sevika flips you off over her shoulder.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #writing teacher reader au while actively ignoring my homework is so funny #okay bye i have to work now ;aljsdf;lakjs

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takes1 · 5 months ago

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Hi. Could you do a Kuroo x reader? She’s Nekoma’s manager and she collapsed during practice and has to have emergency surgery? Kuroo has had a crush on her for a while and Kenma is tired of him dancing around it?

prayyyying you like this one. because this felt incredibly niche, but i know u a real one so that's why it got done. also: i've got some experience with dehydration, and found it an easier plot device, so i just went with that. i feel like i hit all the beats regardless?

warnings. injury/blood/hospitals, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / very angsty, then fluff / hurt-comfort fic / manager!reader / pining!kuroo / kuroo crushing on you / reader gets hurt trope / kuroo has to deal with big feelings / kenma is a great friend and wingman / nervous!kuroo / confession fic / flirty!kuroo but it's not the focus / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

The heat was getting to you.

You were slower, quieter, and had to pause often to catch your breath after standing up.

After carrying a case of water across the gym, your vision was getting splotchy again, and you placed a heavy hand on the wall. It was a nice, quiet, empty corner of the crowded gymnasium.

Kuroo had been watching your heavy-footed shuffle to the door ever since you dropped it off to Nekoma's distracted, tired players.

You had been less vocal, less silly, the way he liked to talk to you.

He called to you, thanking you, but you didn't hear him.

Your breathing was horribly loud in your own ears. Real ragged and difficult to just inhale. Your heartbeat was pounding against the sides of your head, adding to your near-permanent headache. The grip on the wall slipped, thanks to your sweaty palm, and you doubled forward.

The room started to spin as you did so.

"(Y/n)!"

"Woah-woahwoah!!"

Kuroo didn't wait to just standby, to watch you collapse. He was already moving when you didn't answer him. He just had too much distance to cover before your limp body smacked the hardwood floor.

He was first to get you by a mile-- he rolled you over and flinched at the sight of blood from where your head hit the floor.

"Coach!! Hospital!!"

It started an echo, and a lot of quieter questions. Coach Naoi was sprinting over as Kuroo, scared but steady with adrenaline, pulled off his jersey to put pressure on the gash.

"Ice!" He swallowed the wobble in his throat, "I need some fucking ice- somebody get ice!"

The matches on the far side of the gym were not effected, but one closest had to be paused because of so much confusion.

About five guys, some from Nekoma, some from Karasuno, were ready with ice in 20 seconds. Your eyes were a little bit open, you were breathing, but were otherwise unresponsive. Not even a gasp at the cold.

There was only so much room in the car. The whole team wanted to come with, but only Coach Naoi, Kuroo, and Kenma were able to.

"Back up- Back up!" Kuroo barked at the growing crowd around you as he took you in his arms to carry you outside.

Coach Naoi had the car as close as he could get it; Kenma sat in the front seat, giving him directions, while Kuroo kept your head supported in the backseat, careful to keep pressure on you. Kenma passed him the extra ice bags he managed to stuff in his bag last-minute.

Having to sit in the waiting room was much worse than holding you.

At least, back at the training camp, or in the backseat of the car, he knew he could have an active role in getting you better, if he could see you, touch you.

Their trio sat in limbo, waiting for any news.

Naoi glanced down at the incessant tapping sound. His sigh was short and bothered.

"She'll be okay."

Kuroo made no indication that he heard him, nor that he cared. His heel kept thudding and his knuckles stayed white, gripped to the sides of his arms.

"Kuroo- I'm sure she'll be okay. I've seen worse. They'll get her up, they'll get her hydrated."

It was quiet, except for the sound. Kenma scrolled through the digital schedule they had all received of the training camp, trying to answer his own questions: How had it spiraled to this level? They didn't see you as often as each other, and somewhere along the line, they lost accountability of your health.

"'S'been 40 minutes," Kuroo immediately regretted saying anything, because now he felt nauseous.

Naoi cleared his throat.

"She's probably got rhabdo. When you get that dehydrated for that long, your veins are harder to stick an IV in. It's got something to do with that, I'm sure."

Their assistant coach seemed like he understood what was going on. Kuroo looked down at his own forearms, and for a moment, his foot stopped tapping. Naoi's face lightened with a longer, softer sigh.

His veins looked as plump as ever. He squeezed his cold, shaky fingers and watched how it changed the muscle under the skin.

The door opened and his head shot right up.

He was first to stand, first to go through the doors, trailing a little too close behind the aggravatingly slow nurse.

As they navigated the winding, twisting hallways, he was living in the past, wishing, he had said something about his feelings sooner.

He saw you every day. Multiple times a day. He could name 300 instances where he could have told you he liked you, and still didn't. He thought he would have all the time in the world to. But you were on the ground in seconds, and it was suddenly ripped away, an option he might never have again.

Why would he ever assume it was just something he'd always be able to? That you'd always be around?

They pulled up two chairs next to the hospital bed, sitting as close as possible without getting in the mess of wires on the floor. Some were connected to you, some not. Kuroo paid close mind to the IV in your arm, the clear bag hanging- he glanced to your vitals on the monitor many times.

You looked not great, but way, way better. He took what felt like his first breath in two hours. He prayed Kenma and Coach Naoi would never mention -better yet, forget- his intense, and ugly panic attack in the car.

You were looking at the needle in your arm, too. Sleepy, and slow.

"How are you feeling?" Kenma asked, just before he could.

There was no rush to his words. It was for the best. If Kuroo had asked, it would have sounded interrogative.

You smiled, a precious sight for him, "Uh... really gross."

They laughed, but it was more at the opportunity, in relief, that you were speaking and aware, again.

Coach Naoi's voice could be heard just outside. You turned your head to see him carrying a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out. He thanked the nurse at the doorway and entered, wagging his finger at you.

"You're a lot of trouble, you know that?"

Your frown wasn't the reaction he was after. He patted your ankle, good-natured, with his signature smile that made everyone feel a little better.

"I'm jokin', kid," He chuckled, taking the pen to scribble some information down.

"They'll have you out of here after you get through two of those. If you look good to go, that is."

'Those' must've been referring to the bags of fluid getting pumped into you.

"No stitches, either," He drawled, halfway distracted by his writing, with just a small glance to the tape and bandaging on your forehead, "That's good, that's goood,"

He furrowed his brows, squinting at the third, then fifth page. A silly moment of quiet.

"Alright, uhh, I'm gonna go finish this b.s. out there. Keep her awake, fellas."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Coach."

Your headache kept you feeling fuzzy. You assumed you hit your head at some point, thanks to the bandages and how Naoi alluded to it, but you still weren't sure how, or when.

Kenma filled the momentary quiet.

"So, what happened?"

Again, it felt like you were guessing, trying to piece odd fractions of an incomplete puzzle together. The last three days of the training camp were beyond busy on the admin side. You had your own training to keep up with. Things had gotten away from you.

It was a struggle to get your words out. You looked mostly at Kenma, because he looked like he actually wanted to know- Kuroo looked like he was waiting to interject.

"I guess-... um, I haven't eaten, in a while--"

Kuroo looked completely beside himself. His anger was out of place over his usually calm, collected features.

"Why-wh-what-?! Why not? Why would you not eat when you--?"

"Kuro," Kenma pushed on his forearm.

One look told him to back off- he was being way too loud, way too much, way too emotional. Your passive, ghostly voice was only scaring him more.

His nostrils flared. A big, shaky sigh- he had to stand up, pace around in a circle, and rub his neck.

The fear screwing up his brow, tightening his jaw, glossing over in his eyes, was brand new. You didn't know that he was capable of a volume, like that. It made you feel horribly guilty for what was an honest, albeit stupid, mistake.

Kenma watched him walk out, angrily wiping his eyes.

It was quiet again for a few minutes.

"He cares," Kenma lightened your dark spiral with just a couple of words.

All you felt was frustration. It hurt to speak, and more-so to think hard enough to explain yourself. His demands were out of your range of abilities at the moment, and he was somehow dissatisfied? After all the work you had been putting in for the team, you halfway felt like you didn't owe them anything at all.

"I wish he wouldn't sound so angry about it," You muttered.

A light shiver at the cool sensation pooling in your forearm, and you were meeting Kenma's downcast eyes again, with a feeling that you, somehow, said something wrong.

"He carried you out."

Shock hit you in big wave of nausea. You swallowed, dry. You didn't remember that at all, and could only speculate how scared everyone must've been.

What could you even say to that? This was all a big, stupid, accident that too many people were concerning themselves with. The guilt was so thick that you were wishing he would walk back in, so you could apologize.

A lighter, shakier tone this time, "I'll- make sure to tell him thanks."

Kenma looked like he had more to say, something on his mind, but only gave you a hesitant sigh to work with. His company was enough. Thanks to the IV and the medication, you were feeling better, so you tried to lay back, close your eyes, and enjoy it in silence.

He let you rest for 10 minutes, squeezing your shoulder every once in a while for a reaction, to make sure you were awake.

Kuroo was generally very sweet to you, and you thought you had a good rapport, but nothing tangible enough to get him this upset. You chalked it up to whatever happened while you were out of it.

When he returned, you were on your last bag of fluids. Kenma had his Switch with him, so you were watching him play, giggly, and in better spirits.

It must've been a cosmic-like trade, because he looked like a wreck duct-taped back together. You tried not to stare.

"Kuro, take my seat--,"

He threw him a look. Kenma explained as he stood up, "Dude I gotta pee, I'll be right back."

They linked arms. You couldn't hear what was said, but you did watch, as Kuroo leaned down to listen to Kenma, telling him something quietly, in his ear. You desperately hoped it wasn't about you, but knew deep down that it was wishful thinking.

In his friend's absence, he sat, unsure, of what to say, or what to do. His eyes were dry from his second, thankfully less intense, episode in the bathroom down the hall.

Part of him didn't realize the extent of how much he cared about you, until there was a reason to.

Kuroo tried to hand you the Switch. It was halfway an attempt at conversation, halfway an apology. It begged something to be done, or said, at least.

You shook your head and made your best effort to be kind about it, "No, thanks."

It was impossible to look him in the face, "I'm not as good as Kenma. Wouldn't be very fun."

He chuckled, but it sounded sad, and only existed on the basis of filling empty space.

Odd, unnatural, mutual silence. You glanced at each other. Neither able to address it or ignore it enough to talk about anything else.

He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking around the room, every exhale sounding like a soft sigh.

"Kenma told me that-," You cleared your throat, "Uh- you, carried me."

When he looked at you, it was filled with an attachment you had not been conscious for. You faltered under the sudden pressure, tired heart picking back up again.

"Thank you. I'm sure it was hard."

His brow furrowed as he, first, took you literally- after he realized you meant it as a concept, or maybe emotionally, he smirked. He tilted his head a little, like he always did before he teased you.

"Well, you know I work out, right?"

A genuine laugh left your lips. His goofy, disarming humor so ill-timed, but so desperately needed.

He smiled at you, soft, and comfortable again.

"You know what I mean," Was a familiar groan that he loved generating.

"Yeah- yeah, I know," He moved to place the Switch in the empty chair next to him, and was reminded that he only had a short time alone with you. His hand lingered in the space above it, just for a second, enough for him to make up his mind.

You jumped a little at the warmth and weight of his palm in yours.

"It was."

Kuroo didn't look you all-over like you did to him; you were trying to find the joke, or the punchline, in his body language, but he kept his sincerity incredibly clear and unwavering.

His thumb rubbed, light, against your skin.

You looked down at your joined hands, panicked, chills all over your body, "Kuroo-?"

"I know this isn't a great time, but I realized-- I-I shouldn't keep waiting around, for nothing, like I was. We could die tomorrow, so like- what's the point? You know?"

You adjusted to sit up straight, getting warmer, a little dizzy, at his words.

"I-h," He looked at you one last time, taking in the shock on your brow, the slack in your jaw, and knew he shouldn't stop talking, because he'd never be able to start it up again if he did.

"I really like you. I tried to wait for it to go away. Then, I just... didn't want it to."

This smooth-talking, silly, composed guy was falling apart, piece by piece. You didn't realize his super-nice demeanor had anything to do with a crush, but hindsight as it is, found your obliviousness a little embarrassing, now.

Your voice failed you, "You've had a cr-ush on me?"

He snorted at your voice crack, but looked no less infatuated. His other hand was pushing back some hair from your face.

"For a long time."

DING DING, DING DING, DING DING--

You yelped at how loud the alarm was, right next to your head, and how serious it sounded.

A very high, constant ring came from something electronic that you were hooked up to. The source was ambiguous and reason to be very concerned.

Kuroo had a better view of the screen. As you craned, shaky and weak, to see, he squeezed your hand.

His laugh helped to calm you down, "It's just your heart rate."

"One-fifty," He trailed, his pretty, proud grin audible, "Nice."

A nurse rushed in, followed immediately by your coach, then Kenma- you were quick to try and demonstrate that you were fine, but there were not many methods at your disposal, other than waving your free hand.

"I'm okay! I'm- I'm just nervous."

You shared a glance with Kuroo.

It was impossible to keep either of your laughs down once he started giggling.

The nurse could tell what was up immediately-- she muted the machine with a half-concealed smile, then left when she saw you still had some more to go with the IV.

Naoi was a little more clueless, but saw your hands, and made it his business to not know what was going on by taking his own leave. One tiny look told Kuroo everything as he turned- the good, old, 'keep it professional' look.

Kenma stayed, waiting with arms crossed, until it was just you three again, and spoke over your nonstop giggling.

"I told you so."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines. requests open.

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