#But its making me unable to brush my hair and I need to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byexbyez · 2 months ago

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hair wash day

⟡— an injured arm leaves you unable to wash your hair. luckily, your boyfriend is more than happy to help, sylus x mc/reader, domestic fluff, lots of kisses, pet names, self-indulgent, wc: 2.2K

⟡— a/n: this is a little something inspired by this post where i thought sylus would think that he could brush your curly hair dry. so this is for my peeps with curly hair routines! i know some of you have routines that take up 3 hours because of different curl patterns, porosity levels and whatnot but let’s just pretend that this is a condensed version. and if you have straight hair, be grateful that you don’t have to deal with this and keep on reading /j.

p.s. if i got the steps wrong just know that i only apply mousse and call it a day, so don’t come for me.

⟡— read on ao3.

“Come here so I can brush your hair. It’s messy.”

You’d whack him on the head if you could. Anything and everything sets you off lately, especially with how itchy your scalp feels. You can literally feel every single hair follicle on your head—painfully.

Before your arm had to rest in a cast, you used to wash your hair once every week, dedicating half a day to maintain your curls. It’s been well over a week and more, and your boyfriend who has set foot in your place for the first time today, now scrolling on his phone on the couch, thinks he can brush your curls dry. Completely clueless about how much time it actually takes to make your hair look remotely presentable.

“You absolutely cannot brush my hair, Sylus.”

Turning off his phone and chucking it between you two, he leans in, his competitive side bearing its head. “Why, you think I can’t do it?”

“Not that. If my hair was straight, I’d let you brush it any day. You can’t brush curly hair. I mean you can, but it would look terrible and the brush would literally get stuck in there. I need to wash it first.”

“And how are you going to do that with that arm, sweetie?”

“I’ve been putting it off,” you admit with a sigh, letting your head fall back against the couch.. “I don’t know, I’ll manage. I need to do it like yesterday. My head hurts and I feel disgusting. Maybe I’ll go to a hair salon tomorrow.”

“Let me do it.”

Your head snaps up. “You can? I mean, it takes a lot of time. You’ll be here for a while. And you’ll get tired.”

“That just means more time with you.” His thumb gently smooths the crease between your brows, releasing the tension there. “I doubt I’ll get tired from washing your hair.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

Sylus somehow manages to fit a chair in your cramped shower stall for you to sit. He has you tilt your head back to make washing easier, then positions himself outside the shower doors. Crouching slightly, he reaches in to turn on the water.

“You need to make sure all of my hair is wet,” you note. “it may look like it’s wet enough from the outside but the very middle part declared its independence and doesn’t want to soak up the water.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. His large hand forms a shield around your hairline, making sure water doesn’t get in your ears or eyes. You try to keep your eyes open as much as possible to see your boyfriend’s focused face, though the whole thing feels like you’re getting your hair washed in a salon, so you keep closing your eyes once in a while. Especially when Sylus lifts the shower head higher and unintentionally gets water on your forehead, despite his best efforts.

Once he’s sure that your whole hair is thoroughly soaked, he shuts off the water. “How’s your neck?”

“Fine.” It isn’t, the weight had started to pull on your neck towards the end, but you don’t mention it. You’re used to it.

Sensing the white lie, he cradles the back of your neck, lifting it just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. His fingers gently squeeze the muscles beginning to tense.

He’s so considerate.

“Now which one’s the shampoo?”

His big hands are a gift sent from heaven, you think. Firm yet gentle, working through the stubborn itches on your scalp, even scratching behind your ears with his knuckles. If he keeps this up, you’re going to fall asleep right here.

“Sweetie, you with me?”

“Mhm.” You melt into the chair but manage to open your heavy eyelids. “How are you so good at this? Did you do this before?”

He meets your eyes then, an indulgent smile playing on his lips. “No, you’re the first. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The sound of soapy friction fills the bathroom again. You can’t take your eyes off Sylus, your gentle giant of a lover. Reaching out to cup his cheek with your free hand, you stop his fingers in your hair, distracting him from his task.

“What is it? Want to take a break?”

“No, please continue. I just wanted to touch you,” you murmur, stroking your thumb across his cheek. “let you know I appreciate you.”

When your thumb presses down on the corner of his mouth, he bends down, and your lips are already puckered, eager to welcome the tender kiss.

“Is this how you usually treat your hairstylist?” he chuckles against your lips. “Does seduction get you a discount?”

Playing along, you smirk and hook your index finger to the collar of his shirt. “I only seduce the ones who are stupidly good-looking. You’re the first.”

He grabs your hand from his collar, raises it to kiss it, forgetting the shampoo coating his fingers. “Using my lines against me, huh?”

The second round of shampoo is even more touchy. You nearly poke his nostril. Nearly. He keeps your finger away by pretending to bite it. “Behave.”

“But I love your nose,” you whine.

After the shampoo is rinsed off, you can feel the hanging weight of a big clump. Of course, your hair was a tangled mess, with how long you’ve put off washing it. You tell Sylus to reach for the detangling brush and he spends a good minute trying to choose the correct brush from the rack.

His first mistake is starting from the roots of your hair. He was too quick for you to catch on.

“Ow! No, that’s not—start from the ends, please. And work your way up until you can smoothly brush it down.”

A kiss to your forehead again. “Sorry, sweetie. That was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

This part takes forever because Sylus diligently plucks the dead hair from the brush after each stroke, making sure nothing is preventing him from smoothing your hair down, asking every now and then if he’s hurting you.

“Look at how much hair you shed. You’d think I brushed a cat.” He straightens his back. Even if he feels a strain, he doesn’t let it show on his face. “The next step is conditioner, right?”

“Yup,” you hum. “right next to the shampoo.”

Cupping the back of your neck with both hands, he lifts it carefully, alleviating your own strain. “Let’s take a break first.”

“Tired this soon?” you tease.

“I don’t need a break, sweetie. But you do.” You think he’s about to kiss you again when he leans in, warm breath brushing your lips, his eyes low and intent. “You haven’t had water for a while.”

And he leaves you there waiting with a pout while he gets a glass of water.

After that, Sylus thinks you’re finally ready to sit upright. The conditioner only needs to be applied to the ends, after all. But trying to explain that you still need to bend your neck? That’s a sport in itself.

Bottle in hand, he tilts his head. “I don’t understand. What’s the catch?”

“I usually do this step with my head upside down. Since I can’t do that now, I still need to throw my hair back, so you can do it for me.”

“Upside down?” His confusion is adorable. However, thinking about the bajillion steps that still remain after the shower, you take a deep breath.

“Yes, with my hair in front of my face. For volume. Otherwise my roots stay flat. Now lightly squeeze the water out. Not all of it. We still need moisture—no, not like a towel!”

You teach him the praying hands method, he’s appalled by the amount of conditioner in his palms. “Sweetie, are you sure you need this much product? This is almost half of the bottle.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now you know where all my money goes.”

He looks at the brand name on the bottle, making a mental note to stock it up for you.

“Okay, thank you.” You bat your eyelashes at him, luring him in for a smooch. He obliges immediately, a big wet smack sound echoes in the bathroom.

The following step is scrunching the hair up to the roots with the excess product left on his hands. Yet again, he’s confused about why you need to do this. For the curls to form, of course.

“And when you scrunch all the way up, keep squeezing but not too hard.”

“Not too hard…” He murmurs to himself.

You skip the hair mask, because you’ve already been in the shower long enough, and tell Sylus to find a soft cotton T-shirt instead of a towel for drying, after he rinses about seventy percent of the conditioner out. Gotta keep the moisture, after all.

You’re sitting on the floor, pillows propping you up against the couch. Laid out in front of you on the coffee table are a spray bottle, leave-in curl cream, mousse, gel, oil, a curl brush, claw clips, and a dryer with the diffuser attachment. A handheld mirror rests in your hand.

Once he’s finished taking pictures of each product—including the different brushes and the diffuser attachment, “since you’ll need them back at the base”—Sylus settles behind you on the couch, legs bracketing you as he gets comfortable.

You guide him through the next steps: clip your hair into sections, begin with the bottom strands, mist them with water, and smooth in the curl cream. Later, he’d be applying mousse. The gel cast step is skipped. You’re not in the mood for that kind of commitment today.

He picks up the brush with the odd indents, combs through the section, then shakes the strands gently between his thumb and index finger.

Voilà. The curl forms on its own.

“If you tried this on straight hair, it wouldn’t hold,” you explain while he’s still figuring out how to flip the brush properly. “But this way, the curls last about a week.” You tilt the mirror higher, amused as his elegant long fingers wrestle with the brush.

His lips brush your temple as he asks, “You really do this every week?”

“If I have to be perceived by people—which is always—then yes.”

Sure, it takes him twice as long as it would take you, but the quiet “Poor thing,” he mutters, followed by another kiss to your temple while you watch through the mirror, makes it more than worth it.

Eventually, the styling phase is over. Time to diffuse. Your least favorite. Yay.

“This thing looks like a space weapon,” he says, inspecting the diffuser attachment like he would a gun.

“It sure does drain my life,” you groan, using his knee as leverage to stand.

Here you are again, head thrown back in the chair, while Sylus butchers the tune with a grin:

“Rapunzel, let down your haaaair.”

You squint your eyes at him. “I’ll see you with your sore arm when you’re done, mister.”

With the dryer on the lowest setting (two words from you: “heat damage”), your hair nearly takes one hour to fully dry. Sylus does not complain one bit, keeps humming a tune. Relaxed but focused.

The final step is softening the curls with a bit of oil by scrunching again.

“We are done?”

You laugh. “Why do you sound disappointed?”

“With the way you were exaggerating, I thought it would take longer.”

“Well, we skipped a couple of steps.”

His hand comes to rest over his heart as he gasps mockingly. “When I asked you to teach me everything? You wound me.”

“Next time,” you promise. “You know I’m stuck in this cast for a while.”

“Plenty of time to perfect the routine.” He nods. Coming to stand in front of you, he examines his work, seemingly satisfied with the result.

“Do you prefer cash or credit, sir?”

Gripping the back of your chair, his mouth is on yours again. A content sigh escapes his lips when he pulls back. “My preferred form of payment is cuddles, miss. No discount.”

Your fingers dive into the hair at his nape, scratching affectionately as they drift toward his ears. You roll and pinch his earlobe. Just because.

(It’s so soft.)

With the perfect amount of pressure, he begins to massage your neck.

“I’m so down,” you whisper against his lips. “How about we cuddle, order food, watch a movie, cuddle some more… and then you stay the night?”

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

Later, curled up on his chest and halfway across his lap, you drift off to the sounds coming from the movie. His nose rests in the crown of your head as he murmurs, “You smell divine, sweetie.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask me for help,” he says gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His voice, quiet and warm, draws you back from the edge of sleep. You giggle. “Okay, I’ll call you next week for a hair wash. You asked for it, don’t regret it later.”

“I never would.”

“Big words,” you sneer.

He nuzzles deeper into your freshly washed hair and presses a kiss into it, almost without thinking. “You know what I learned today?”

“Hm?”

“That I need to think twice before ruffling your hair again.”

“It’s okay. You get a free pass.” You turn your head toward him and meet his ruby eyes. A beat, maybe two, passes in silence before your smile takes over. “Thank you Sylus, I needed this.”

#sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus fluff #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lads fanfiction #sylus fanfiction #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #i wrote this in a day so please be kind (translation: heavily unedited.)

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starryeyed-apple · 29 days ago

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at the wake

summary: you wake from a dream of drowning to your husband's comfort.

★pairing: rafayel x f!reader/mc ★wc: 1.7k ★content: references to tears of romirro myth. present timeline. hurt/comfort, angst associated with the myth, nightmares, panic attacks, soothing. ★a/n: this is my first time writing rafayel, I adore him and I'm lowkey terrified of getting his voice wrong, but I've had this idea for a while and wanted to write it! ★masterlist

You dream of drowning.

It’s not the first time, but this one feels final. The darkness of your unconscious mind feels indistinguishable from the vastness of the sea, swallowing you whole, dragging you to its depths. You feel your very existence fizzling out, merging with the push and pull of the tides.

Your heart feels…off. Wrong. Everything feels wrong.

You try to breathe, and the air doesn’t come. Your lungs restrict around nothing.

Everything feels like nothing.

Nothing at all.

Desperation. You hear it in a keening sound, a song sung all wrong. A mourning wail carried on the waves, even as you sink far below them.

You hear your name, ringing in your ears. A voice so familiar, but your limbs are lead, if they’re even still there. If you haven’t become one with the yawning abyss, the emptiness of the ocean itself.

You hear him.

You’re gasping a moment later, pulling air within your lungs as you lurch forward. You cough, and sputter, as if ridding seawater from your lungs, but all you do is fall to the ground, unable to move.

But your body never slams against the hard surface. There’s something warm around you, soft against the seawater slicked against your skin that's still trying to claim you.

There’s a hand at your forehead, pushing your hair back, pulling the seaweed from your legs. A voice in your ear.

“Come back to me, cutie,” he urges, fear laced in the sweet voice that makes your heart sing, and you wheeze in another strangled breath. “Come on, breathe with me, you can do it. Please?”

He’s as frantic as you, and it’s only when you feel that soft warmth pressed to your cheeks, cradling your face, that you come face to face with the ocean itself.

It’s the water at sunset, blue and pink you know in your soul. A picturesque gaze that can hold as much of a dangerous storm as a calm tide. Now it is somewhere in between, a storm that has suddenly brewed on the horizon of an otherwise warm, peaceful day.

You go to him. Reach for him with shaking hands, willing to drown yourself again just to hold him close.

“Cutie,” he says again, eyes wide and pleading with you, and you blink rapidly. “I need you to breathe. Please, you’re scaring me.”

You gasp in another breath, then let it out, as shaky as the slow exhale that he gives as an example. He takes your hands to place over his heart, and you let the familiar beat of it calm you, feeling it in your own chest as the bond warms beneath your trembling fingers.

“Rafayel,” you choke out, trying to expel more seawater, only to realize your throat is tremendously dry.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smiling at you, but it’s wavering. His eyes are a forced reassurance, panic thinly concealed, one hand holding yours to his chest as the other brushes your hair from your eyes again. “It’s me. You’re okay, okay? You’re gonna be okay.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nervous energy elongating the sound to comfort yourself, and he reaches down, untangling you further from where your body was trapped.

When you glance down, you see not seaweed, but thin bedsheets wrapped around your body, ensnaring you. Rafayel gently frees your limbs from them, soothing his palms down your sweat-slicked skin, no seawater to be found.

“What—” you clear your throat, trying to force yourself to swallow, and Rafayel reaches past you to flick on the lamp by your side of the bed. He brings your water to your lips, gently tilting your head back, and you eagerly wet your throat before you try again, “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare. You were flopping around like a fish out of water when I woke up.” He shakes his head, his attempt at playfulness faltering and fading, a dazed look in his eyes.

His voice is shaky, somber and scared when he adds, “I thought something was wrong, I thought you were—”

He breaks off, pushing his hair back from his face, letting out an unsteady whimper.

Rafayel suddenly wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, tugging you into his lap on the cool floor.

“I thought you weren’t breathing,” he whispers, fingers trembling as they trace up and down your spine, and the cool weight of his wedding ring against your skin has your breathing start to steady out. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought you were—”

He stops, opting instead to hold you close, curling himself around you. Slowly, he begins to rock you both back and forth, soothing himself as much as he did you.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out, and he gently hushes you, kissing your forehead.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers, kissing along your brow and down your nose, calming himself with the feel of your skin, the familiar scent of it, even drenched in sweat and fear. “You can’t stop a nightmare, silly.”

“Still,” you say, wrapping your arms around him tight. “I’ll try harder next time. Can’t scare my fishie that bad again.”

Rafayel laughs, a hushed relief lacing through the sound, and he smiles into your neck.

“Good,” he sighs, squeezing you tight, like you might slip through his fingers otherwise. “I owe you a few jumpscares for waking me up like that, too. Just to keep this marriage fair and all.”

“Mm, you're on,” you mumble, exhausted now, even more than before as the adrenaline slowly begins to wear off.

Rafayel hums under his breath as his rocking becomes less frantic, and more calming. He leans back against the bed frame, tucking your head under his chin.

Something in the song he weaves eases your soul as much as it makes your skin prickle again, and he notices you tensing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, running a hand down your arm and squeezing it gently, encouraging and reassuring you both.

Your husband was always eager for touch, for the feel of you to ground him, as much as his existence kept you solid and sane.

“I dreamed I was drowning,” you say slowly, and feel his body go as tense as yours.

“You did?” The question is a breath, a stutter underneath it. It sounds like dread, like grief waiting with open claws and sharp teeth.

“Yeah.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. You can feel his nails dig into your skin just slightly. An unconscious habit, a need buried beneath his own skin to keep you as close as possible, to merge yourselves together.

“I don’t remember why,” you continue, resting your head against his chest to listen to the anxious race of his heart begin to settle at your proximity, from the vibration of your voice against his skin. “It was dark, and I couldn’t breathe, and then I was…gone.”

Rafayel’s nails subconsciously dig in enough for you to hiss, and he quickly lets go, soothing out the marks with his lithe fingertips.

“The sea is under my control,” he says in a low tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “I won’t let it take you.”

You laugh breathlessly. “Just like that?”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah.” His voice is lighter, teasing, but still holds a hint of that dark promise to any force of nature that dared to try and stand in front of the sea god’s wrath, in his path to his bride, his wife. “Just like that.”

“What if the sea doesn’t listen?”

You lean back, watching his handsome face as it scrunches up in thought. Your eyes trace the beauty marks that dot across his skin, the shimmer of thoughtful eyes in the low light of the home you'd made together.

Sometimes you wondered if the artist had sculpted himself, with all the inexplicable beauty that made him. Ethereal and dangerous, elusive and yours.

“Then I’ll tell the sharks and whales to swim with you and carry you back up, obviously.”

You laugh softly. “And if they don’t listen?”

“Then I’ll tell the moon to change the tides and bring you home, of course,” Rafayel says brightly, smiling down at you and booping your nose with his finger. As if your questions were what was silly here, not his increasingly outlandish answers. “Satisfied?”

You shake your head. “What if there’s no more moon, or sun, or fish? Then what?”

He hums, glancing off to the side as he thinks. There's an almost imperceptible shift in his eyes, a purposeful glint.

“Then I’ll follow you down,” he says, turning back to face you.

The glee and mirth he wears like armor, so ingrained it fits more like a second skin to hide what’s sensitive underneath, fades to let you see your husband’s sincerity; his devotion for you, and forever only you.

He leans down, soft lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss that eases that part of your soul that feels split between here and somewhere far away.

“I'll follow my wife wherever she goes,” he murmurs against your lips, deepening the kiss until you’re breathing him in, filling your lungs with the air you’d been desperately searching for upon waking. “How’s that, cutie?”

You smile, pecking his lips again.

“Well, your wife would like to go back to bed,” you say, and he laughs softly, kissing across your cheekbone and down to your chin, leaving loving pecks all over your face until you’re both giggling.

“Oh, I can do that,” he says, hoisting you into his arms before rising to his feet with graceful ease. “Make it a little harder for me next time, why don't you?” he adds, just so you pinch his cheek playfully and fill your shared bedroom with your sweet laughter.

Your husband tucks you into his side of the bed where it’s nice and dry, making no protest when he climbs into the side you’d soaked with your sweat in your fitful sleep.

Rafayel hushes your concerns, telling you it could all be fixed in the morning, and sings softly under his breath until dreams beckon to you once more.

It’s still a familiar song. But when you dream again, it’s only of moonlight and his kisses, calm tides at last, and knowing a bond that would never be broken.

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl @draftbeerbibi @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @slovesyouuu @ineffabl-y @grlyeetswrld @toelady @asiaticapple @aenishas @sylusgworl @lamogliedizayne @plasticcardholder @colonelkaboom @plzdonutpercieveme @syncaleb @dailydoseofanimeawesome @wooasecret @glitterykingdomangel @meofary @rchltruly @calistaxoxo24 @blushofeve @starlightyearning @mylifedoesntexist @madamecorbie

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #lads rafayel x mc #rafayel lads #lnds rafayel #lnds rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace

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gumified · 1 year ago

Text

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better.

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.”

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him.

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name."

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal."

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured.

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?"

"And I'm willing to pay that price."

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded.

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice.

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you.

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him.

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept."

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth.

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you.

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you.

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants.

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.”

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting.

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy.

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.”

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit.

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.”

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.”

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused.

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks.

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision.

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?”

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive.

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face.

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag.

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you.

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.”

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely.

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure.

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body.

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive.

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory.

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

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blushandfics · 28 days ago

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AFTER HOURS ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

warnings: slight suggestive content at the end.

you finish work first. you try, at first, to be patient — curled up in clark’s oversized blazer, legs tucked under you, watching the lamplight catch on the frames of his glasses. the newsroom is quieter at night, but boredom still itches under your skin, and boredom always makes you restless. and restlessness, with clark this close, always turns soft and needy for attention.

you’d already been a bit of a handful earlier: grumbling about the late shift, whining that you were hungry, tapping your foot until clark finally ordered your favorite takeout without even asking. now your tummy’s warm, your eyelids a little heavy, and your hearts too full to sit still.

you scoot closer at first, draping yourself over the arm of his chair. but it isn’t enough — so you shift again, a little hesitantly, and clamber into his lap instead, knees folding at either side of him until you settle there.

“finished already?” clark asks without looking up, gentle, fingers still moving on the keys.

“mhm,” you hum, your lips brushing his shoulder. “but you’re still working.” it comes out poutier than you mean it to, and duck your head a little.

“just a few more lines, baby,” he murmurs, half smiling even as his eyes stay on the screen. his hand slips off the keyboard for a second to smooth over your waist, thumb rubbing idle circles. “promise i’ll be all yours in a minute.”

you nod, though it’s lazy and a little reluctant, leaning closer so your cheek rests against the curve of his neck. the glow of the monitor softens the sharpness of his profile, and something about it makes your chest squeeze up all warm.

your lashes flutter as you watch him type — the steady click of keys, the faint furrow in his brow when he thinks. after a beat, you tilt forward, pressing a soft, absent minded kiss to the side of his neck where you know he’ll feel it the most. it isn’t pushy, just gentle, unable to help yourself.

you nestle your nose under his jaw and let out a tiny sigh, warm and content, and clark’s heart squeezes so hard he can’t help but pause. his shoulders soften, and he dips his head toward you, cheek brushing against your hair.

“you’re gonna make me lose my place, honey,” he chuckles, but then he hesitates, gaze flickering back to the glowing screen — and he decides, just for a second, to let the words wait.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb warm against your skin, tilting your face up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. then another to your temple. when you blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness, he can’t help it. he leans in, mouth catching yours in something fuller, warmer than he’d meant. it’s always easy to let it get away, especially with clark. his lips part against yours, his other hand finding your waist where you’re still perched in his lap.

you draw back after a breath, giggling against his mouth. “clark,” you mumble, the sound muffled, “you’re never gonna finish,” its almost teasing, but your eyes are bright and sparkling.

he lets out a low, sheepish laugh, forehead still resting against yours. “i know, i know,” he whispers, but his thumb is still stroking your skin, and there’s something a little helpless in the way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. “just… needed a quick minute with you, s’ all.”

but clark doesn’t turn back to the screen — not really. because then he’s leaning in again, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then one a little lower, at the hinge of your jaw. his hand slides from your cheek down to your neck, thumb brushing over the pulse.

“should finish,” he speaks, but his mouth keeps chasing yours anyway — another gentle kiss, then one a little deeper that pulls a quiet sound from your throat.

you swallow hard, nodding to his words. “then finish,” you whisper quietly, fingers still curled in his shirt, “so we can go home… and you can keep kissing me there.”

something fond and achy tugs in the pools of his eyes. “yeah,” he whispers back, quiet and warm. “okay.” he smiles.

he draws back, not all at once but in gentle inches. you stay curled against him, still hot and a little fluttery, letting the steady rhythm of his typing steady your own heartbeat. every so often, his hand drifts from the keys just to rest against your thigh or squeeze at your waist — quiet proof that even when he’s working, he’s already halfway home with you.. ♡

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carbonfiction · 27 days ago

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You say that every time

Summary: Joel gives you what you want in the warmth of his bed. You promise him it's the the last time and in trying to return the favour, you find it really might be..

Warnings: Smut, Angst, joel miller being joel miller!! Adult themes and whatnot. Age gap, infidelity, vaginal fingering, clit play, slight description of what i guesss would be subspace?? Joel in emotion turmoil- poor guy wont follow his heart. Very much setting up for a part three🙂‍↕️

Part one Masterlist. Words: 2k

"Please Joel, make it go away.."

The words are quiet in the dim light, Joel's fingers tightening just a fraction on your hip. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough for you to feel the tension roll from him. The way his body tenses behind you.

The hand you had placed on your lower belly ridgid and still. Fingertips barley pressing again your skin. "Cmon baby.." he drawls, clearing his throat with a soft groan. "M' not your boyfriend. Dont do this"

Your head shakes against his pillow in protest, fingers still gripping his wrist. "Doesn't matter, not right now. Not when you make it better.. "

"What about whats right hm? Cause this.. This ain't.." Joels voice finds your ears in a low growl, his thumb almost unconsciously tacing along the edge of your shorts, teasing the boundary despite his hesitation. His strength is wearing thin, that much you can feel. You know your toeing the line he'd set so long ago between giving you peace, allowing you to rest somewhere you trusted as safe, and those nights when nothing but his touch would empty your mind. The kind you'd spend mewling beneath him as he let you shatter, let you burn in the basks of pleasure before extinguishing the flames and tucking you up satisfied and unable to think up anything fearsom.

"Just one last time Joel.. Please"

Your voice trembles out the plea, fragile and soft. His forehead finding the base of your neck with a gentle thump. Hes quite for a few moments, hair tickling your skin slightly.

"Last time.." he eventually sighs in resignation, almost unable to resist the very thing that he knows he should. "you promise?"

Your head bobs in a nod, rubbing against the soft fabric of his pillows. You'll tell him anything, agree to anything, so long as he touches you tonight.

"Alright.." he breathes, head lifting, lips a light press to the place his head had rested just moments before. "Alright honey. But no more, not after this. No more crawlin into my bed."

"No more.. " you agree.

The hand on your hip shifts up, turning your head to the side just a fraction. You feel the brush of his facial hair on your cheek, ghosting as his eyes search your face, then as gentle as you've ever felt from him, Joel kisses you.

Slow and sloppy, a clash of tongue and teeth. Its a kiss filled with carnal need at its very core. You even tug at his lip playfully, relishing in the low growl that breaks from his throat.

Your so caught up in the taste of him, aged whiskey and something a little tangier, you dont even notice his fingers dipping lower until they cup the soft swell of your pussy. The delicate plushness already slick with need.

"Already so wet f'me baby, fuck" Joel groans, his head shifting to mouth at the curve of your jaw and down your neck. His fingers dipping into your slit slowly, calculated and knowing, gathering up the wetness and bring it up, up, up to the swell of your clit.

The sound you make at the touch is punched out, breathy and high in pitch as he gently circles the bud. Your thighs widening as you drape one over his hip to give him more access.

"That boy's been neglecting you hasn't he?" joel coos as his teeth tug mischievously at your earlobe. "Lettin you come to me like this.."

When you whine he laughs rough and gravely, fingers pressing a little firmer as your hips jolt, eyes fluttering.

"My poor baby.. That feel good?"

You dont have it in you to respond as he circles your clit. The pads of his fingertips skilled, calculated in the way only an older man can be, as he draws soft sounds from your throat. You keen against him, back arching , the moment those pads dip lower.

Joels grip on you tightens, the hand on your hip looping over your chest, as one finger slips inside you. The digit slick and finding little resistance as he pumps it in and out torturously slow until he draws out, adding a second. His voice a gruff drawl as his teeth tug softly on the lobe of your ear.

"Fuck.. Still so sensitive aint ya honey, shh i know.. Big breaths"

Those big breaths tremble free to mingle with barley audible praise, high and gasped out as the syrupy heat of pleasure blooms. Each plunge and crook against your rippling walls burning hotter. Your hips beginning to move in time with his fingers, fucking yourself on the slick digits, the wet squelch of your cunt audible despite the fabric barriers.

"There you go.." he groans, hand slipping between the buttons of your flannel to harshly cup your tit, to keep you close. "Take what you need from me"

"J-Joel..s-so good..m' close" you cry out, cunt tightening around his scissoring fingers. The wet slap of his palm meeting your skin growing as his fingers brush against that soft spot inside that never fails to make you sob.

"I know.." he coos, murmuring the words right against your lips, "can feel it sweetheart, You let that pretty little mind go.. Thats my good girl."

Its within another handful of crooks and grinds you do. You shatter, mind filled with a hazey cloud filled with nothing but joel, joel, joel. A broken moan vibrating against his slightly rough lips as they messily press on yours. The carcophany of sounds bouncing around the bedrooms walls, careless of volume or the way they tremble his name like its the only word you know. Joels fingers not giving up their delicious moves until your thighs shudder closed around his hand and your body's wracked with a buzzing kind of pleasure that makes you shake.

"So fuckin beautiful.." Joel pants, like hes the one who's just unraveled mind body and soul (and in a way, deep inside, he has). His lips pressing a final lingering kiss to yours as he does. "Good girl. S'that better?"

The sound you make is nearer a pleased hum than a mumbled answer, vibration rumbling your chest. You float in that little bubble Joel always gets you to, weightless with a brain thats fuzzy around the edges. Your skins hot, flushed and sweaty beneath the flannel, his hand still tucked inside cupping the weight of your boob; its strangely grounding as his other hand slips free from your shorts. In your periphery you just catch the way his lips part, the digits sucked into the warmth of his mouth with a satisfied grumble.

He's hard behind you, solid and twitching against the fabric of his plaid pajama bottoms. Yet he lets you breathe, come down from the haze, curled in his arms like a trembling wreck. Minutes ticking by on the little clock that rests on his table, until his voice breaks the silence. The sound almost startling you awake.

"You should probably be gettin back now honey s' late."

Joels fingers softly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, subtly begining to shift his body away from yours. Your head turns, eyes catching his in the dim room, your hand reaching back to hold onto the curve of his thigh.

"But.. What about you?"

"Wasn't.." he sighs, sheets rustling, shifting your hand away before it finds the familiar swell of his cock. The moment so abrupt, yet so hesitant, like he regrets it the second your touch is removed. "Ain't about me. This was for you. For peace n quiet"

"What if i wanted it to be for you too?"

Your words float in the air, growing stagnant. Hes not touching you anymore, hand free from your shirt, the other still looped around your wrist. He lets it go as you turn to face him, sitting up, brows furrowed. "Joel?"

When he responds it feels cold, different, distant. Like his hackles were raised and he was ready to bolt. His expression still, rocky in that stubborn Joel way, eyes refusing to find yours like a switch flipped. "You know that cant happen baby. Peace n' i? We ain't exactly get along."

Your head bobs in a nod you dont realize you've made until it stops. Joel gets like this sometimes, stewing in his own feelings, building back up that wall that blocks his vulnerability. It reminds you of when you first met, of those quiet conversations whilst ellie slept, you doing most of the talking until he'd grown willing enough to contribute.

You dont know what makes you say it, but you feel the thick tension roll from Joel in crashing waves the second you do. Like the ocean during a storm.

"You know.." you start, having shuffled back against the headboard, fingers toying with the sheets around your waist. "I've been thinking of breaking it off with him.."

Joels head wips toward you as if you'd just told him you'd seen Sarah walk down the street yesterday. His jaw tightening, teeth biting against one another harshly. "Dont." he grits out, voice low, dangerous. "Dont say shit you don't mean. Not now. Not after.."

Not after he'd been knuckle deep inside you, again. Not after promising one last time. Not after hed done the one thing he knows he should not have done in the first place.

You weren't his, never would be, not in a world like this. There was too much to loose.

"Who says i dont mean it Joel?" Your voice remains steady, a shrug gracing your shoulders like you'd simply told him the weather.

"No. Y-You gotta stop it" he all but growls, gritty and drawled. Desperate if you really listen. His head shakes, feet hitting the wooden floor with a heavy thump, hes almost every bit the mirror image of a disappointed father and you struggle to suppress the thought. "This.. Thats the post-orgasm fuzz talkin. Cant throw away everythin you have for an old man like me"

The scoff slips before you can blink, clipped and louder than you realize.

"Everything i have? Please Joel, What do i have, A boy i cant even sleep next to? I cant do another night sneakin out to sleep on my fucking couch!"

"And sneakin out to sleep in my bed is better?" he shoots back, huffing the words out. It hits a nerve, makes you flinch just a fraction, but he keeps going. "Christ, How bout his feelings? You just gonna break it off cause you're, what, Lonely?"

"Lonley?" you spit, almost flying out of his sheets. Your feet hitting the wood with just as much oomph if not harder than his had."that's- fuck thats why you think i come here?"

"Well you tell me! Your a big girl, fill me in on why you keep sneak over here, crawlin into my bed, beggin me for things i cant- i shouldnt be givin you!"

Joel doesn't miss the way you recoil, the way your shoulders drop just slightly. It stings, his words, the way he speaks as if you were the only one to blame. Standing across from him in his old flannel, pajama shorts and look that makes his throat tighten. It has to stop, should've long before now, youve pushed your way into his ribcage far too deep. Your very being nestling too close to his heart in a world he's already stapled the offending organ closed to.

You deserve more. Deserve better.

Especially when your trembling voice finds his ears next. It holds bite, stands its groud, but god does it pull at something Joel doesnt- cant- let himself face. "You know why! Because you let me rest, because you saw- you.. You saw fucking everything out there, wouldnt even be here if you didn't, and you-"

He cuts you off, hands harshly running through his peppering hair. He doesn't mean to, not really, but it lands sharp all the same. "I what?"

"You made.. Make.. Me feel safe Joel, in a way i.. I havent felt since before this."

You dont see the tremble of his lip, nor the sting of salt in his eyes as he lets his next words land. Your too busy stalking yourself to the very door you'd came in through hours earlier. Fingers trembling as they wrench open the knob.

It hits like a knife, raw and tender. A soft whimper muffled in your throat as it makes your eyes burn.

"Yeah well, got news for ya sweetheart, You shouldn't."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader fluff #oldman joel #pedro joel #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou2 #tlou #joel miller angst

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applecaviar · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, I saw your cock warming fic, and I was wondering if you would be willing to do one where they guys are losing it and begging for her to move. Like maybe she just likes the comfort it brings, but he's been horny all day already, so its like torture for him. She just has to finish writing the reports, and then he can move.

It can be a small one. Whoever character or characters you want. Just like the idea of her being the more composed one for change. 😅

I want you to know I spent my whole shift writing this. It was sooooo slow today that I had time to do it. Also I'm on my period and now I'm horny as well 😮‍💨😮‍💨. Hope you like it. 🩷🤍

You loved the feeling of Caleb's hard cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out so perfectly. He pulsed and throbbed with need, the thick root visibly kissing your puffy, stretched out lips with each small twitch of his hips.

"Fuck, Pips, your pussy feels so good" he grunted softly, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I'm trying to be good, trying to let you finish... but damn, it's hard when you squeeze me so fucking tight."

You reminded Caleb to be patient, needing to finish your work before he could claim his reward. Half an hour ticked by, but his restraint was wearing thin. Unable to resist any longer, he ran a hand down the curve of your breasts, palming your belly. His fingers splayed wide, imagining it already round and firm The thought was fucking fatal and it made his cock jump inside of you, kissing your cervix as he rubbed that sweet spot just right.

"Please, please...Fuck, I want to keep you in bed for days, fucking this sweet cunt raw and pushing every last drop of my cum deep inside you. No more birth control, just you and me, fucking and breeding until your belly is big and round and everyone knows you belong to me."

The thought of Caleb breeding you, filling you with his seed until your belly swelled was one that made your pussy clench and drip with need.

You stood up, his cock slipping out of your with an obscene squelch. The emptiness left you aching, craving his touch.

"Okay, deal," you agreed, a naughty grin spreading across your face as you turned to straddle his lap. "But the uniform stays on, Colonel"

You wrapped your small hand around his rock hard shaft, giving it a few pumps as you lined him up with your soaked entrance. The tip kissed your folds, teasing your needy hole.

Caleb reached up and placed his hat on your head tilting it slightly to the side, his fingers lingering to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "The officer gives the orders, pipsqueak," he rasped, his purple eyes dark with lust. *"Command me."*

Spurred on by his words, you sank down on his cock, taking him to the hilt. A throaty moan escaped your lips as you started to move, riding him hard and fast, just the way you both needed. Your body bounced on his lap as you chased your pleasure, ordering him to fuck you harder, deeper, faster until you both found release.

You feel his cock throb gently inside you as you struggle to concentrate on the paperwork strewn across your desk. His hips remain still, his hard cock buried deep inside your warmth, not thrusting or demanding. His breath feels hot against your neck, lips brushing your skin with every exhale.

"You're far too perfect for someone like me. I don't deserve you"

You can't help but giggle, your walls fluttering around him "Of course you do, Zaynie. Look at you being so patient and such a good boy"

You feel Zayne's hips twitch at the praise "Dr Zayne, stay still. I'm trying to focus."

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to regain his composure. "Apologies, love. I'm attempting to be a gentleman and let you finish your work, but you make it quite challenging"

"I'm almost done, I promise"

20 minutes later you feel Zayne's hips starting to twitch, his control slipping away by the minute. Sweat beads on his forehead as he clenches his jaw, brows furrowed in concentration. Occasional whimpers and soft grunts escape his lips, betraying his growing desperation.

"Fuck, Y/N..." he pants hotly into your ear, "Your feel so good... so wet and tight. I can feel you squeezing me every time I move."

Incoherent praise spills from his lips between shuddering breaths. "You're driving me crazy, my love... making me lose my mind with this perfect little...I can't hold back much longer."

You toss your pen aside, the clatter of it hitting the desk barely registering as you feel Zayne's desperation growing. You melt back against him, your body molding to his.

"I need to fuck you now Y/N, Please say I can."

You smirk at his needy plea, playfully teasing him. "Did you just beg for more, Doctor? I must be hearing things..." You lean in, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, "Let me hear you beg again, Zayne. Say it like you mean it."

You push yourself up slightly, your walls clenching around his shaft before dropping back down.

"Please..." he begs shamelessly, his control shattered.

You grip his thighs, fingers digging into his skin as you pick up the pace. Zayne throws his head back, a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping his lips. "Yes, fuck!"

He watches as your ass bounces and jiggles with each thrust of your hips. His hands grip your waist, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "Slow down, or you're going to be very disappointed in about 30 seconds"

Undeterred, a mischievous smile spreads across your face. You double your efforts, slamming your hips against his faster "I don't care," you taunt playfully "Maybe I want to see you lose control, I want to feel you come inside me."

Zayne's breathing turns ragged, his hips bucking erratically to meet your yours. "You're going to make me... ungh... make me fucking come..."

When he finds his release he holds you flush against his chest, not letting an inch of space between your bodies as he empties himself inside your fluttering walls and once his breathing returns to normal he watches as his cum drips out of your cunt and down his cock.

Xavier loved the way you worked, focused on your tasks, acting as if the whole 8 inches of his hard dick wasn't buried deep inside your pussy. It was driving him fucking crazy.

He bit his lip hard, stifling a moan as he felt his heavy balls tightening with backed up cum that desperately wanted to paint your insides white.

His breath grew shallow and quick, heart pounding in his chest as he fought the urge to grab your hips and fuck you into oblivion. He wanted to hear you scream, to beg him for more as he pounded into your tight cunt, his hips slapping against your ass until it was red and sore.

"You feel so goddamn good around my cock, bunny"

You let out a soft sigh. Even with your best efforts to remain still, you can't resist the urge to clench around him. Your g spot throbbing with each heartbeat, pressed directly against the head of his cock.

But you held firm, swallowing down your whimpers and whines as you felt your arousal climbing higher and higher. Your fingers trembled slightly on your keyboard, but you forced yourself to concentrate, to act like the feeling of Xavier's fat cock stuffed inside you was nothing extraordinary. Even as your body screamed for more, for harder, faster, deeper... you carried on.

"You're taking an awful lot of time finishing those reports" he said glaring at the computer screen as he spoke.

"Someone is eager..."

His hands grabbed your ass, squeezing the firm flesh roughly as he grinded your hips down against his hard cock. "Yes, I am," he breathed hotly against your neck, his fingers dipping teasingly between your ass cheeks to graze your puckered hole. "I've been imagining you all day, bent over, cock drunk and desperate for my dick. So yes, I'm fucking eager for you to finish those reports, do you want some help?"

"No, I'm almost done Xavi"

"Come on bunny, let me help you. I want to feel you cum on my cock as I fuck you silly, right here, right now"

"Just give me 15 more minutes, okay? Then I'm all yours."

After a few minutes you thought he might actually be able to hold himself back, to let you finish your work in peace. His body remained still and calm behind you, not a single twitch or wiggle. You even dared to turn your head, wanting to check if he was asleep.

But as your eyes met his, you saw the hunger burning there. Before you could blink, before you had the chance to even think about shutting down your computer, Xavier was moving.

He grabbed your wrists, his fingers wrapping around them tightly as he tugged your arms behind your back. He didn't give you a chance to catch your breath, already thrusting up into you, his hips snapping forward with enough force to make you see stars.

He was done waiting. And as he started to move inside you, his cock driving deep and hard and fast, you knew you wouldn't be getting any more work done anytime soon. Not with the way he was fucking you.

You're trying to focus, you really are. The numbers on the screen blur as your eyes strain, attempting to make sense of the latest reports. It's been a long day, a long week, and all you want is to wrap this shit up so you can finally relax.

But then there's him. Rafayel and his insatiable neediness. He's been at it for hours, squirming, making those needy little noises. You swear he's doing it on purpose, just to distract you.

"If you had been patient, we wouldn't be having this issue," you mutter. Your pen scratches against the paper as you make a note on the margin.

It's hard though, so fucking hard when he keeps...no, fuck, don't think about that. Focus, Y/N. Fucking focus.

"Fuck cutie...it's just that you feel so good, so soft and warm"

But then he sighs, a low, needy sound that seems to echo through your bones, and you can't help but turn to look at him. Big mistake. Huge. The sight before you is nothing short of sinful, a delicious temptation that your body responds to eagerly.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You can't let him distract you, not now. Not when you're so close to finally being done. But god, the way he's looking at you it's enough to make your blood run hot and your resolve crumble.

You turn back to your reports with a sigh of your own, trying to ignore the heat building between your legs.

Every passing minute feels like an eternity for Rafayel. He's been trying to be good, trying to be patient like you asked, but fuck...it's so hard. Almost as hard as he is right now.

By the time you finally turn to face him, he is a mess. Tears of frustration streak down his cheeks, his pretty face scrunched up in a mask of desperation.

You stroke his cheek softly, your thumb brushing away a single tear. You bring it to your lips and suck it into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it as you savor the salty sweet taste of his desperation. He whimpers at the sight, his cock twitching and leaking, as if begging for the same treatment.

"You taste so good when you cry for me Raf. I wonder...will you taste just as good when you cum?"

You don't even give him a chance to answer, not that he could form a coherent thought right now anyway. Instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs to grip his hips. And then your mouth is on him, lips parting to take him in, to wrap around his leaking cock and suck him deep into your throat. He cries out his fingers fisting in your hair as he bucks up into your face.

And you find out that yes, oh fuck yes, he tastes even better when he cums.

At first, you were blissfully unaware as Sylus began to stir inside you, his cock twitching and growing harder by the second. It twitched once, twice, then it started to throb with need, your snug cunt squeezing around the increasing girth. Sylus had to bite back a groan, not wanting to disturb your concentration just yet.

Leaning in close, Sylus purred into your ear "You know, you could leave the hunters behind and work for me instead. Imagine doing this every day, kitten."

He drank in the sight of you, working away with his dick nestled deep inside your cunt. He loved seeing you focused, oblivious to the effect you had on him. With each twitch of his cock, your pussy clenched and fluttered around him, coating him in your arousal.

"Stop it, Sy. I'm almost finished here"

"You are a bossy little brat in the mornings, aren't you?" he teased, giving your ass a sharp smack. "Keep being a tease like that, and I'll bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can't even remember your own name, let alone these boring reports."

"Achoo"

He couldn't help but let out a low groan as your pussy squeezed his cock when you pretended to sneeze. "Fucking hell, kitten..." he swore under his breath, hips twitching forward involuntarily.

You kept teasing him, pretending to sneeze a couple more times as you focused on your work, not realizing the effect your little game was having on him. Each time you let out a fake sneeze, your cunt squeezed him as if trying to coax out his cum.

By the fourth clench of your pussy around him, Sylus had had enough. He grabbed your arms, yanking you back against his chest. "That's enough work for today"

Then he whispered in your ear "I'll do anything you want, kitten. Anything at all. Just please, fucking please, let me fuck you right now"

Sylus Qin, big bad Onychinus leader, the man who always held the power, was fucking begging.

You smirked as Sylus begged so sweetly, finding his desperation unbelievably arousing. "You're so polite when you want something, Sy," you teased, your voice dripping with mock innocence.

Sylus let out a chuckle "Unlike your hungry little cunt, hmm?" he countered, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust of his hips. "That greedy pussy of yours gets so fucking eager when I treat it right, squeezing my cock like it's the only thing it was made for."

To prove his point, he grabbed your hips and started to move, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked folds hard and fast.

"Look at her go, she swallows my cock like it's starving for it. I'm going to fuck her so goddamn good, you'll forget what it feels like not to be stuffed full of my cock."

In the end, Sylus got what he wanted, he fucked you bent over the desk, reports scattered and forgotten.

* credit to ninaxenchanted on Tik tok. I always wanted to use the "command me" on one of Caleb's fics.

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brookghaib-blog · 3 months ago

Text

Almost Loved

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: Four months of dates, gave Y/N hope that she found the one after hopeless years, Bob looks in love, treats beautiful. There's one step that looks like it's coming. Until Bob breaks it off with her. Encountering each other a year and an half later. What happened ?

Word count: 6,5k

The grocery store was mostly quiet—late afternoon sunlight filtering through the large glass windows, casting soft golden streaks across the polished floor tiles. Y/N pushed her small basket along the aisle, her phone held in her other hand, thumb scrolling through a lasagna recipe that Serena had insisted would “change her life.”

It was girls’ night.

Their tradition, sacred in its own way, made up of wine, old movies, and food that took too long to make but always felt like home. Tonight, lasagna was on the menu. It was her turn to host, and she wanted to get everything just right. Maybe too right. Maybe part of her was overcompensating. She’d been doing that a lot lately.

She squinted up at the higher shelves. The tomato sauce she wanted—San Marzano, the expensive one Serena swore by—was two rows too high. She shifted onto her toes, stretching her arm out, her fingers just grazing the label, before letting out a quiet sigh of frustration.

“Of course,” she muttered, taking a step back and scanning the aisle for help.

That’s when she saw him. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp jaw and neatly kept beard, the man at the end of the aisle looked like he belonged on the cover of some men’s adventure magazine. He wore a dark sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing strong arms and a small tattoo near his wrist. His cart was half-full—red wine, two frozen pizzas, a bunch of bananas, and a bottle of olive oil.

Y/N bit her lip. Just ask.

“Hey,” she called gently, waving her hand. “Sorry—could you maybe help me with something?”

He looked up instantly, offering a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Sure.”

She pointed up at the shelf. “That tomato sauce… unless you’re tall and also secretly Spiderman, I might need a hand.”

He chuckled, stepping forward and easily grabbing the jar with one hand, holding it out to her like it weighed nothing. “This one?”

“Exactly.” She took it, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you, mystery grocery aisle hero.”

“John,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Not as impressive as Spider-Man, but I do try.”

“Y/N,” she replied, unable to stop the small smile curling her lips.

Their eyes lingered on each other just a moment too long—an unspoken curiosity hanging between them. A spark, tentative but real. John glanced down at her basket.

“Making lasagna?” he asked.

She nodded. “Girls’ night. Wine, pasta, and probably too much gossip.”

He laughed again. “Sounds better than my plan—just grabbing stuff for a hangout with friends. It’s my turn to cook and by cook I mean… order takeout before they show up.”

Y/N smirked, “That’s still a noble skill.”

There was something warm in his tone. Easy. Not forced. It had been so long since she’d felt this light while talking to someone. And for a brief second, she forgot about the ache that lived behind her ribs anytime she interacted with a man. Like Serena said, great man appear out of nowhere.

“John! Dude, I found the protein powder Yelena’s been obsessing over. It was hiding behind—”

The voice cut off mid-sentence.

Y/N turned, instinctively.

The world stopped.

There he was.

Bob.

His hair was longer now, messy and falling into his eyes, and he had a faint beard, the kind that made him look older… worn. Like time had passed, and he’d felt every second of it. He wore a simple hoodie, sleeves pushed up, hands calloused. But it was his face—his expression—that broke her.

Frozen.

His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something, anything. His blue eyes widened, a storm of shock. He stared like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Neither could she.

Y/N stood perfectly still. Her heart pounded so loud she thought it might burst out of her chest. The weight of the tomato sauce jar grew unbearable in her hand.

He was here. He was here?

And he hadn’t told anyone about her. Not even the people he called “friends.” Not even the man standing next to her, John, who looked between them, completely confused.

“Bob?” she whispered, barely audible. Her voice cracked. “You—”

He took a step forward, like he might say something.

She ran.

She didn’t think. She couldn’t. The tears were already forming before she reached the next aisle. Her basket fell from her hand and hit the floor with a thud, the sauce rolling out and spinning to a stop.

Her chest heaved.

She leaned against a shelf near the cereal boxes, trembling, covering her mouth with her hand as a sob escaped.

He had been gone. He had blocked her. Vanished like she never mattered.

And now… he was here. Talking about groceries. Laughing. Living.

She wiped her eyes furiously and forced herself to walk out of the store, not even caring that she had nothing in her hands. She just needed to get away. Far away.

Back in the aisle, John frowned.

“Dude,” he muttered, turning to Bob. “What was that? She ran off like you shot her.”

Bob didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the direction Y/N had disappeared, his mouth slightly parted, like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Was that your ex or something?”

Still no answer.

John stared at him, then let out a low whistle. “She was gorgeous. And funny. Jesus, I was gonna ask her out. You just cost me a date, man.”

Bob flinched, the words hitting harder than they should have.

“I didn’t know she’d be here,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t say anything about her,” John added, grabbing a bag of chips and tossing it into his cart. “I mean, I get it, but… you looked like you saw a ghost.”

Bob swallowed hard. His chest felt tight.

She had been right there. Just a few feet away. Smiling. Laughing.

And then she’d looked at him like he’d stabbed her in the chest.

He had. Maybe not with a blade, but with silence. With abandonment.

He remembered the coffee shop. The way her lip trembled when she smiled. The messages he never responded to. The way he erased himself from her world, thinking he was doing the right thing. Saving her from himself.

But seeing her again… it shattered something in him. All the excuses fell apart.

He had hurt her.

The lasagna sat in the middle of the table, bubbling slightly at the corners, steam rising in curls that filled the small kitchen with the scent of garlic, tomato, and regret. Serena poured a generous glass of red wine into Y/N’s glass before filling her own, sliding the bottle away without a word. The atmosphere in the room was warm—candles flickering on the windowsill, Billie Holiday playing softly in the background—but the tension sitting between the two women was impossible to ignore.

Y/N hadn’t touched her food.

Serena had only taken a few bites, watching her friend with quiet concern.

“So,” Serena finally said, her voice gentle, careful. “Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been staring at your wine like it just insulted your mother?”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh. “It’s so stupid. The whole thing. I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Serena replied instantly, setting her fork down. “But you’re going to tell me what happened, or I swear I’ll drag it out of you with force.”

Y/N exhaled, bracing herself. Then she began.

“I was at the store,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Getting the last of the ingredients. The stupid tomato sauce, remember the one you swore by?”

Serena nodded slowly.

“I couldn’t reach it,” Y/N continued, twisting her napkin in her hands. “So I asked this guy to help me. He was cute. Really cute. Like, rom-com cute. Beard, kind eyes, flirty but not in a gross way. I haven’t really done that in a while. Not like that.”

Serena tilted her head, encouraging. “So far, this sounds amazing.”

Y/N’s mouth trembled.

“Then… he showed up.”

Serena’s face dropped. “Who?”

Y/N didn’t even have to say the name.

Bob.

She could see the change in Serena’s eyes immediately. The softness vanished, replaced by a hard edge—fury restrained behind tight lips.

Y/N looked down at her lap. “He just—walked into the aisle. Laughing. Talking to that guy, John. Apparently they’re friends. He was holding some protein powder like it was the most normal fucking thing in the world.”

Serena blinked, slow and disbelieving. “You’re telling me he just… appeared? Like a damn ghost?”

Y/N nodded. “After a year and a half. After disappearing without a word. No text. No call. Not even a ‘go to hell.’ Just gone.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her lips together hard to keep from crying.

“I looked at him, Serena,” she said, shaking her head. “And I—I froze. I couldn’t breathe. And the worst part is… my heart still reacted. It still did that stupid flutter thing like I was nineteen and he was everything.”

Serena was silent for a beat. Then she pushed her plate aside and reached across the table to grab Y/N’s hand.

“Fuck him,” she said quietly but firmly. “You hear me? Fuck. Him.”

Y/N let out a strangled laugh, then immediately wiped at her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, but it’s like… I’ve spent so long trying to glue myself back together. I buried him, Serena. I buried everything we had. I made peace with it—at least I thought I did. And then today, for a second, it felt like nothing had changed. Like I was right back in that place again, where every little part of me wanted him.”

Her voice cracked again. “It sucks. It sucks so bad. I wanted to like this new guy. I was about to give him my number, I think. And then—boom. Bob. Like the universe just couldn’t let me move on.”

Serena’s eyes burned with protective anger.

“He doesn’t deserve space in your heart, Y/N,” she said, fierce and gentle all at once. “You gave him everything. And he threw it away without even saying goodbye. You think I don’t remember the way you cried for weeks? The way you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even look at his name without breaking?”

Y/N covered her mouth, the tears threatening again.

Serena’s voice softened. “You’re not stupid for still feeling something. That’s what heartbreak is. You loved him. You let him see parts of you no one else ever did.”

Y/N sniffled. “And I think a part of me still does. Still loves him. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“No,” Serena said instantly. “That’s human. But you don’t owe him your hope. He left. He didn’t fight. He didn’t stay.”

Y/N finally took a sip of her wine, the burn grounding her a little.

“I keep wondering if he missed me,” she admitted. “If he ever thought about me. If he lied awake at night regretting what he did.”

Serena looked at her with soft eyes. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. But if he loved you, he never should’ve left like that. Love doesn’t disappear. People do. Cowards do.”

Y/N was quiet for a long time, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.

“I still think about the way he looked at me,” she whispered. “Back then. Like I was the only thing in the world he saw. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that again.”

Serena leaned closer. “You will. You will when it’s real. When it’s with someone who doesn’t just look at you like that—but chooses you every single day. Someone who doesn’t vanish when things get hard.”

Y/N finally broke. A sob slipped from her lips, and Serena was out of her chair and wrapping her arms around her in an instant. Y/N clung to her best friend like she was a lifeline, letting the tears fall freely now, the pain she’d bottled up for so long spilling out into the soft candlelit air.

“I thought I was over him,” she cried.

“I know,” Serena murmured. “I know, babe. But healing isn’t linear. You’re doing your best. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

Y/N nodded against her shoulder, her voice muffled.

“And I still think he was the love of my life.”

Serena pulled back slightly, brushing her hair from her face.

“Then one day, maybe the universe will send you a new one. One who stays.”

Bob's pov

Bob stood in the kitchen, the light above the stove casting long shadows across the walls as he leaned over the counter, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the edge. The plastic grocery bags sat forgotten near the door.

He hadn’t spoken since coming home. Not to John. Not to anyone.

John had kept going on in the car, half-laughing about how he was this close to getting her number, teasing Bob for “spooking” her like some weird jealous ex.

Bob hadn’t said a word. What the hell could he have said?

He couldn’t tell John that the girl he was casually flirting with in aisle seven was the woman who had once been everything. That she used to fall asleep on Bob’s chest to the sound of his heartbeat. That she used to kiss the inside of his wrist like it was sacred. That she had known the worst of him—all of him—and stayed, until he made the decision to leave her behind like a fucking coward.

And now, there she was, alive and radiant and standing in the middle of the store like a goddamn punch to the throat. Smiling. Laughing at John’s stupid joke. Looking at him like she used to look at Bob.

God, he couldn’t breathe.

He sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. His beard scratched against his palms, but he barely registered it. His mind was a thousand miles away—no, a year and a half away—trapped in the memories he tried so fucking hard to forget.

Y/N in his bed, tangled in sheets and laughter.

Y/N at the beach, sunlight dancing in her hair as she splashed water at him, yelling that he was “so annoying” but smiling like he held her whole heart.

He exhaled shakily and looked around the dim apartment. It was sterile. Empty. Like him. No trace of her voice, her warmth, her chaos. Just silence and shadows.

He had left her because he thought it would protect her. Sometimes he thinks that maybe he was supposed to be alone, because he deserved it.

He had found her, the greatest woman he had ever seen and feel, he wants to blame life, but he knew it was him. If he didn't turn into an addict, if he had dropped the meth and put it away, if he hadn't overdosed that night. Would she still be here?

Because every time he looked at her, he saw the eventual breaking point. He saw her watching him unravel. He felt the guilt of knowing she deserved someone normal—someone who didn’t wake up in cold sweats, someone whose mind wasn’t a minefield, someone who didn’t need to fight himself just to stay.

So he did what he thought was merciful.

He vanished.

No goodbye. No explanation. Just... nothing.

But today proved something he hadn’t let himself believe until now: He never stopped loving her. He never could.

And she looked so... beautiful. That was the hardest part. Not just in the superficial way. But in the way she carried herself. She was still her. Still his Y/N in every tiny detail—the way her hands moved, the way her eyes narrowed when she focused on something, the way she stuck her tongue slightly out when she read off her phone.

And she had asked John for help.

It was such a small thing. Just a jar on a high shelf. But it gutted him.

Because he used to be the one she asked for help. She used to call his name. Now she called out to someone else, someone taller, someone easier, someone available. And she smiled at him. Flirted. Laughed in that way that used to be just for Bob.

He dragged his hands down his face and stared blankly at the wall across from him. His chest felt hollow. His throat burned.

John had said, “Dude, you totally cockblocked me. She was gorgeous. She liked me. And then you showed up looking like you’d seen a ghost, and she just... ran off. What was that about?”

Bob hadn’t answered.

Because the answer was: She was the ghost.

The ghost of the life he could’ve had. The love he threw away. The hope he killed with his own two hands.

And she had looked at him for a moment—just a second—like she’d seen something terrible. Her face had crumpled. Her eyes, god, those eyes had filled with so much pain. She hadn’t said his name. She hadn’t screamed. She just turned and ran.

And he let her go.

Again.

He let her slip away, just like the first time. Not because he didn’t care. But because he did. Because the pain on her face was confirmation that he had ruined her. That he had no right to chase her down the aisle and ask for another chance. He was the wound. He was the reason she didn’t trust anymore.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and let the tears finally come—silent, shattering, and long overdue.

What would he even say if he saw her again? “I’m sorry”? That wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He had left her alone in the middle of loving him. He had broken the only real thing he ever had.

And still, his heart ached for her like a drumbeat.

Even now.

Even after all this time.

He whispered her name into the silence like a prayer. Like maybe, if he said it soft enough, the universe would take pity on him and give him one more chance.

But the silence answered back.

And Bob knew, in the deepest, most brutal part of him, that some mistakes were too big to come back from.

Tampa, Florida - 2 years ago

The music was too loud. Bob had never liked parties—too many people, too many conversations he couldn’t quite follow, too many reminders of how deeply out of place he always felt. He stood near the edge of the bar, his beer sweating in his hand, watching the neon lights stutter and dance across the crowd like artificial stars.

He wasn’t even sure why he came.

John had dragged him out. Said he needed to “get out of his head” for a night, meet people, be normal. Bob had wanted to argue that he wasn’t normal—never would be—but instead he let himself be swept into the mess of music, alcohol, and strangers. Maybe just for a few hours, he could pretend.

And then… he saw her.

She stood near the bar on the other side, radiant in a dress that made the rest of the room fade into gray. He didn’t know what color it was—he couldn’t remember what color it was—but he remembered the way it moved when she did, like it was made of light. Her hair shimmered under the LED haze, and her eyes—God, her eyes. Bright, alive, soft but untouchable.

She was laughing, one arm looped through her friend’s, the kind of laugh that came from someone who had fought to enjoy herself tonight. He could tell. Something about the way she moved, the way her smile slipped too quickly sometimes before she caught it again—like joy was something she was still learning how to hold without fear it might vanish.

Bob’s breath caught.

He was staring.

He knew it.

He couldn’t stop.

The longer he looked, the more something strange started happening. The noise in the room dulled. The ache in his head—the one that never fully went away—quieted. It wasn’t that she was the most beautiful woman in the room, though she was, it was that she seemed real in a way nothing else did. Grounded. Human. Safe.

He didn’t realize how long he had been watching until her friend—dark-haired, sharp-eyed—caught him. She elbowed Y/N playfully and nodded toward Bob. And then Y/N turned her head.

Their eyes met.

Blue locked on hers.

Time did that strange thing it sometimes did when your heart lurches forward before your body can follow. Bob’s stomach twisted—not in panic, not in fear, but in something rawer, deeper. She saw him. And when her lips curled into a soft, curious smile, something in him cracked wide open.

She raised her hand in a little wave, not flirty, not coy—just... kind.

Bob flushed, eyes flicking away immediately like a schoolboy caught sneaking a glance. He heard John chuckle beside him, teasing something about “just go talk to her, man,” but Bob couldn’t move. He wanted to. More than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time.

But he wasn’t the kind of man you walk up to at parties.

He wasn’t safe.

And still—he looked back.

Just in time to see her slipping back onto the dance floor with her friends, disappearing into the movement of hips and laughter, head tilted toward the ceiling like she was finally giving herself permission to let go.

But every few moments, she turned.

Just slightly. Just enough to check if he was still watching. And he was.

Every goddamn second.

Waiting for the courage to find his feet.

Bob’s fingers tightened around his beer bottle until his knuckles ached, condensation dripping like nervous sweat down the glass. He watched her—the way her body swayed to the beat, her hair catching the lights, the soft curve of her smile as she laughed at something her friend whispered in her ear.

He should move.

He needed to move.

But his body didn’t listen at first. His feet were cement, his thoughts a blur of don’t be weird, don’t screw this up, she’s out of your league. Every instinct honed by years of hiding, of pulling away, of staying silent whispered for him to just let her be a pretty moment he’d remember from the sidelines. A passing, golden thing. Nothing more.

But then—

She looked over her shoulder again.

Just a second. Just a glance.

But her eyes met his, and something shifted on that one glance among so many, and that was what did it.

Bob set his drink down with a shaky hand and rolled his shoulders back like a man preparing for battle—not against her, but against the thousand ghosts inside him whispering that he wasn’t enough. That he never would be. He took a breath and let it burn.

Then he stepped forward.

Each step through the crowd was slow, deliberate. The music pulsed like a heartbeat in his ears—louder, heavier the closer he got. The sea of people parted just enough for him to see her again. She was swaying gently, eyes half-closed as she mouthed the words to the chorus of the song. Her friends danced around her, wild and laughing, but she was like calm in the eye of the storm.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

That was okay. He needed a second. Just one more.

He stopped a few feet away, not sure how to cut through the music, the noise, the sheer impossibility of her. She felt untouchable. And yet... something about her made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in years. Maybe ever.

Then she turned.

Mid-spin, hips still moving with the music, she caught sight of him standing there—still, awkward, unsure but trying. And her lips parted slightly. Surprised. Delighted.

“Hey,” she mouthed.

And God help him, he smiled.

“Hi,” he said aloud, hoping she could hear it, even if the song swallowed the sound whole.

She stepped closer. Her friends were still dancing, unaware or maybe just gracious enough to let her be. The flashing lights painted her in blue and purple and gold as she stopped just in front of him, close enough that he could smell the hint of vanilla and citrus on her skin.

“You were watching me,” she teased gently, voice loud enough to cut through the song.

Bob flushed, his mouth parting to apologize, but she raised a hand and laughed—soft, real.

“I didn’t mind,” she added.

That broke the spell.

“I—yeah. I was,” he said, voice low, scratchy with nerves. “You just… you looked like the only real thing in this place.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering behind her lashes.

“That’s a hell of a line.”

“It’s not a line,” he said quickly. “I’m… I’m not good at lines.”

She laughed again. “Good.”

They stood there for a moment—just watching each other, drinking the other in. And Bob felt something unfamiliar rise in his chest. Not desire. Not lust. Something softer. More dangerous.

Want. He wanted to know her.

“I’m Bob,” he offered, holding out a slightly trembling hand.

“Y/N,” she said, taking it.

Her hand was warm. Smaller than his, but her grip was sure. Confident. The touch lingered just a second longer than it needed to, like neither of them really wanted to let go.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance,” he said. “But I’m not great at that either.”

She smiled again—wider this time, brighter.

“Lucky for you, I’m not picky.”

He chuckled under his breath, finally, truly easing into her presence. “That’s… that’s very kind of you.”

She stepped closer, just enough that their arms brushed. “Come on. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He let her lead him into the thrumming heat of the dance floor. He moved awkwardly at first, stiff and unsure, but she was patient, warm, gently teasing him out of his shell with every movement. Her fingers found his—tentative, featherlight—and when he didn’t pull away, she smiled.

That was the moment.

The one that cracked his heart open just enough for something to bloom.

For the first time in so long, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d done, or what he was afraid of. He wasn’t thinking about what came after, or what he wasn’t allowed to want. He was just there.

With her.

And when their bodies found a rhythm, and their laughter mingled in the dark, he knew—he knew—he would never forget this night.

No matter what came next.

Because Y/N? Y/N felt like the beginning of something real. Something terrifying. Something beautiful. Something he wasn’t sure he deserved…

After the dance, the air between them had shifted.

Bob didn’t know how long they had moved like that — clumsy at first, then warm, fluid, almost like they’d known each other for years instead of minutes. The music had faded into the background eventually, a dull thrum under the sound of her laugh, the flash of her smile. She’d teased him gently for stepping on her toes twice, but he’d caught the glint in her eyes — she didn’t mind. She liked that he was trying.

When the night wound down and her friends began gathering their things, shoes in hand and jackets tossed over shoulders, Bob had lingered beside her, not quite ready to say goodbye. She didn’t seem ready either.

They stepped out together into the night — the air cooler, calmer, away from the bass and heat of the bar. Her heels dangled from her fingers as they walked side by side, arms brushing occasionally, and Bob didn’t speak for a while. Neither did she. There was something comforting about the quiet that had settled between them, like they were tuning into each other in a way words couldn’t capture.

When she suddenly looked up at the dark sky and said, “Wanna see the ocean?” he didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” he said, simply.

They walked.

The city fell away gradually as they made their way toward the beach. Lights grew dimmer, buildings gave way to quiet streets, and eventually, to the vast open breath of the sea. The sand was cold beneath their feet, soft and wet in places where the tide had crept too far in. They both stood at the edge of the water for a long moment, watching the dark waves roll and sigh beneath the early stretch of dawn.

The sky was just beginning to change — from black to charcoal, hints of lavender and pale pink kissing the horizon.

Bob glanced at her in the dim light.

She was hugging her arms around herself, not in discomfort but as if holding something close — the moment, maybe. Her hair danced gently in the breeze. She looked peaceful. More beautiful than she had under any neon light or club spotlight.

He couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“You look like you belong here.”

She turned to him, startled but not upset. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… something about you. Quiet, but impossible to ignore. Like the ocean.”

She laughed softly at that — not mockingly, but surprised. “That’s the most poetic thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.”

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. That sounded better in my head.”

“No,” she said, voice softer now. “Don’t apologize.”

She motioned toward a patch of sand a little further up the beach, where a flat, half-buried piece of driftwood made a decent seat. They sat side by side, the way people do when they don’t quite know each other but don’t feel like strangers anymore either. Shoulders almost touching. Feet buried in the cold sand.

Bob’s hands were resting on his knees, fidgeting lightly with the edge of his sleeve. She was watching the horizon, letting the silence stretch again — not uncomfortable, just there.

And then she spoke.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve lived a thousand lives but never really started one?”

The question hit him like a breath held too long.

He looked at her slowly, trying to read the shape of what she meant in the lines of her face.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah, I do.”

She didn’t ask for more.

Neither did he.

That was the beginning of something fragile — a moment of mutual recognition, of wounds that didn’t need explaining. They sat there until the sun bled gold across the water, until the tide inched closer and forced them to scoot back, laughing under their breath. They talked a little — about music, old movies, places they’d always wanted to go. Nothing too deep, but nothing meaningless either.

At one point, she told him her favorite sound in the world was waves crashing when the rest of the world was quiet.

Bob told her his was laughter — her laughter, he almost said, but he bit it back and just smiled.

She leaned her head on his shoulder for a few minutes toward the end, eyes closed. Not romantically, not possessively — just tired and trusting. The kind of gesture that said I feel safe with you, even if I don’t know why yet.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just stayed still, steady, holding the moment like it was something sacred.

Eventually, her phone buzzed. Her friends were ready to leave. She lifted her head slowly and looked at him with a sleepy smile.

“I should go,” she said, brushing sand from her dress.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me too.”

But neither of them stood right away.

“Tonight was… unexpected,” she said, glancing at him.

“In a good way?” he asked.

She nodded. “In the best way.”

Bob’s heart clenched — gently, painfully.

He walked her back to the edge of the city where her friends waited.

But she turned back once before stepping into the waiting car, brushing her hair behind her ear, and smiled like she knew this wasn’t the end.

“Bye, Bob.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

And she was gone.

But Bob stood there for a long while, watching the tail lights fade down the street, feeling the weight of the night settle deep in his chest.

Bob stood under the faint glow of the streetlamp, watching the car carrying her disappear around the corner, taillights blinking like tiny red stars fading into the dark.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind of smile that made his cheeks ache a little, like his face wasn’t used to joy stretching that far.

He took a deep breath.

Then another.

And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he actually felt good. The kind of good that didn’t come in a bottle or from pretending. This was real. The kind of good you wanted to hold onto with both hands.

So he turned on his heel, ready to head home, already replaying everything in his mind like it was a dream he was afraid to wake up from. Her laugh. The feel of her head on his shoulder. That perfect moment on the sand.

And then— Halfway down the street— His eyes went wide.

“Oh shit,” he muttered aloud.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I didn’t get her number.”

The words hit him like a slap. He spun around in place, staring at the empty stretch of road where her ride had vanished, and then pressed both hands into his hair, dragging his fingers down his face.

“Bob, you idiot!” he groaned.

A seagull screeched overhead as if mocking him, and Bob flipped it off on instinct. “Not helping, man!”

Panic started creeping in.

What if she thought he didn’t want her number? What if she was sitting in that car, slowly realizing that he hadn’t asked, and was now thinking he was just being nice with no intention of seeing her again? What if she was already telling her friends, “Well, it was nice, but I guess that’s all it was”?

“No, no, no,” Bob muttered, starting to jog—then full-on sprint—in the direction the car had gone. His shoes slapped loudly against the pavement, his breath puffing visibly in the cold dawn air.

He didn’t even have a plan. He just knew he had to try.

“Y/N!” he called out breathlessly, hoping maybe the car hadn’t made it too far. “Wait—damn it—Y/N!!”

He reached the main road just in time to see a car idling by the curb, her and her friends still climbing out—apparently one of the girls had forgotten her clutch inside the bar and they’d circled back.

Thank. God.

Bob skidded to a stop, chest heaving, hair sticking to his forehead. He must’ve looked like a lunatic, red in the face and out of breath, but she turned at the sound of his sneakers scraping pavement and her eyes lit up.

“Bob?” she asked, stepping away from the car. “Did something happen?”

He nodded, trying to speak but gasping like a fish.

“Did you forget something?” she asked with a smile, cocking her head.

He opened his mouth. Raised one finger. Gulped another lungful of air.

Then:

“I—forgot to ask for your number,” he wheezed.

She blinked. Then covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Bob groaned. “I know, I know. I got all caught up in the whole mystical beach walk under the stars thing and then you smiled at me and I—I just—my brain stopped working.”

She was laughing now, hand over her heart. “You ran all the way back just for that?”

“I panicked,” he admitted. “I literally shouted at a seagull.”

That made her bend over laughing.

Bob grinned, red-faced, but proud. “So… any chance you’ll save me from dying of regret and give me your number?”

She pulled her phone from her bag and held it out to him. “Hand it over, seagull whisperer.”

He nearly fumbled pulling his phone from his pocket, fingers clumsy, but managed to pass it to her. She typed in her number with a grin and saved it under her name—then paused.

“I’m adding a little seagull emoji next to my name so you remember.”

Bob laughed, genuinely, head tilted back. “I’m never gonna live this down, huh?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the p. “But it’s cute. Endearing, even.”

He took his phone back and stared at her name glowing on the screen, feeling a little like he’d just been handed the moon.

“Thanks for running back,” she said, stepping closer. “Most guys would’ve just let it go.”

He met her eyes. “I didn’t want to risk not seeing you again.”

The humor in her smile softened into something warmer. Quieter.

“Good,” she said. “Because I didn’t want this to be the end, either.”

Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek, quick but warm. Bob’s heart practically punched a hole through his ribs.

“Now go home before you pass out,” she teased, heading back toward her friends.

“Right,” he said, dazed. “Sleep. Smart.”

She looked back one more time, gave him a wink, and got into the car.

And Bob stood there, in the middle of the street at dawn, with the number of the girl who’d danced with him, laughed with him, walked the shore with him.

He looked down at his phone again, still smiling.

Best. Panic attack. Ever.

In the Watchtower, Bob turned onto his side, pressing a hand to his chest. His fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, gripping something invisible. That hollow ache was still there — had never really left.

He’d run because he was afraid. Of what she made him feel. Of how clean he had to be to deserve her. Of how deep he was already falling. He knew he’d ruin her, and he couldn’t live with that possibility. So he chose the coward’s road.

But that didn’t mean he’d ever forgotten her.

Not for a second.

He remembered the way she’d always tug his sleeve when she was about to say something vulnerable. The way she smelled after the beach. How she whispered “Shut up” when he made her laugh too hard in bed.

He remembered what it felt like to fall asleep beside her and believe — even for a minute — that he was someone good.

In her home, Y/N turned again, facing the window.

“God,” she whispered into the darkness. “You wrecked me.”

And in orbit above, Bob whispered, “I never stopped loving you.”

They both stared at the night in silence.

Different beds. Different lifes. Same ache.

Reliving the same memory. Same heartbreak. Same question echoing like a curse between two broken hearts who once promised each other more.

"How did this end like this?"

#robert reynolds x reader #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #bob reynolds #robert reynolds #thunderbolts x reader #marvel #sentry x reader #thunderbolts*#mcu fandom #bob reynolds x reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #lewis pullman x reader #sentry x y/n #void x reader

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petrichoravis · 3 months ago

Text

You, everywhere I look. | s.r

summary: Spencer finds himself unable to move through his life without finding pieces of you in everything he does or sees. He can’t say that he minds. (Or, you have been away and Spencer welcomes you home with love and flowers.)

word count: 1,7k

what to expect: spencer reid x fem!reader, no plot just spence being down bad, fluff (like tooth rotting, the couple that you see on the street and feel like barfing kind of fluffy), domesticity, established relationship, mention of spence lifting r up but he doesn’t actually, mention of future children as well as bad experiences with relationships but it’s not a plot point and there are no actual children, food and eating, English is not my first language

a/n: this is kind of my form of shit posting, bc this isn’t particularly good, but I liked it somehow. I think my fics being swallowed up by the algorithm has given me the freedom to just post what I want

──── ✿

Spencer stretched his arms above his head with a sigh. The sun filtered through the curtain, beaming the shadow of the windows on the inside of the fabric like a projection screen.

He dreamed of you—a good dream for once. A child of your own, a life filled with joy, laughter until your stomach hurts, and rolling in the grass together down the hill where your house sits.

Dream analysis has never been something he believed in, given that it is purely based on interpretation, with no underlying logic or factual basis. But you made him forget logic, made him want to believe in all the things ethos and the universe told him.

But dream analysis and believing that a dream could inspire a future were two different things. And he so badly wanted to lead that kind of life with you.

In the bathroom, he found your toothbrush next to his in the run-down cup. You had insisted on painting clay with him for your second date and made a cup with beautiful flowers embellishing it. But you had forgotten to add a handle before painting, so it had its place on Spencer’s sink now.

You were a little sad that he wouldn’t be able to drink his coffee out of it every morning, but he had assured you that they would keep him motivated to brush his teeth every day and save him from cavities.

The toothbrush for you was something that had accidentally happened.

You and Spencer had started off as a hesitant couple, as you’d called it. You did all of the things couples did, kissing, going on dates, sleeping at each other’s apartments, but both of you were hesitant to put a serious label on it.

Spencer was careful because of his job and the dangers that it brought with it—too many of his relationships having fallen victim to his profession—and you because of the hesitancy that was brought on by ex-boyfriends and baggage.

But as the two of you spent more time together and started falling deeper in love, you started sleeping at Spencer’s house more than at your own.

With that came that you always had to bring your own necessities. Often, this led to you leaving things with him that you needed at your house when you left his.

So, Spencer bought you a toothbrush (and a towel (he had towels, but he saw one that he knew you’d like) and a hair brush and shampoo). He tried to disguise it like it was just a spare one he coincidentally found at the bottom of his drawer.

(“What a coincidence that all of those things appeared at the same time, huh?” You had teased, and he was too focused on your smile and the fact that you had your things at his place now, he just replied, “Mhm.”)

Spencer pressed play on the CD player he installed in his bathroom, which you laughed at him for, but found endearing at the same time.

You always played music while brushing your teeth to make the activity more enjoyable and to really brush for three minutes, which Spencer never failed to remind you was important. It was something your family passed down to you, and Spencer was incredibly proud that you trusted him with it, too.

As he pressed play, the intro song to your favorite album started playing. You must’ve forgotten to take the disc out. He hummed along around the toothbrush while brushing.

After he finished cleaning up, showering (your shampoo stood on the little shelf in his shower cabin) and putting on clothes (the cardigan he chose was your favorite, a brown one made from soft wool, with a green button band), he made his way into the kitchen.

He wasn’t much of a breakfast eater before meeting you. Usually, he chose to grab a coffee and a doughnut on his way to work, but you made him want to wake up early to wake you softly, to eat still-warm buns and solve crosswords and sudokus.

It had become a habit for him now, even without you here, waking up earlier to enjoy the morning sun at his table next to the window, watching birds.

Crossword puzzles were something he saved for you and him, though.

On his way to the office, he passed by a flower shop like he did every day, called The Water Lily Pond. Named after the famous painting by Monet.

They always had a beautiful array of flowers, and today they had a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and bicolored leaves, and goat willow twigs as decoration stood right outside. He swore to himself to buy you one on his way back.

Walking just a few steps further, he saw a cat with a little hat looking out of the window and smiled. You would love that, begging for him to lift you up so you could pet her, and he would roll his eyes and pretend that he cared about being on time while already lifting you up.

The work day is one of the rare slow-moving ones, Spencer’s task mainly involving research on offenders that are already in prison, to refine profiling techniques and methods for future consultations with other law enforcement officers.

It’s a tedious process, and he is well aware that he had been chosen for the task because of his practical ability to read as many words a minute as he can. He doesn’t mind, Garcia and JJ visit him from time to time, he plays cards with Emily, and Hotch invites everyone to a lunch break.

He ordered your favorite food at the restaurant, and when the conversation about Emily’s cat Sirgio, subsided, Morgan asked about you.

“How’s the lady, boy genius?” A smirk ready on his lips. Spencer was sure that anything he’d say would end in relentless teasing.

“She’s great,” he smiled sheepishly, ignoring the cough of ‘I’m sure she is’ from Morgan. “She’s been away to visit friends and family last weekend, and work kept her busy until now, but we’re cooking today. Staying in, maybe read something together.”

Penelope squeaked in delight, “That sounds so lovely! Tell her I said hi, please. Oh! And that I totally didn’t forget to send her the cookie recipe, I’m just perfecting it. It has to be perfect.” She went on, asking him to ask you if you wanted to come to her girls night and if you liked strawberry or preferred cherries, and only stopped when Morgan laid a hand on her shoulder, gently.

“I will,” Spencer replied, laughing fondly. He had introduced you to the team just a month after you had made things official, and they adored you from moment one, just like he knew they would.

Penelope had even baked you cookies for your last birthday, and as you stood next to the table, snacking on them, she said that she trusted you to pass the recipe down your family line and promised to send you the recipe.

(Spencer had choked as she said it, scared that it would be too soon to implicate such a thing. But you had handled it with grace, telling her that you would feel honored to bake delights like Penny’s sugar cookies for your future children. Spencer knew he was done for in that moment, if he didn’t already know it, anyway.)

After lunch, they all went back to the office to finish their respective tasks for the day and went home early thanks to Hotch’s insistence that they deserved one day a year to be home before dark.

On his way home, he went by The Water Lily Pond like he promised himself to buy you the flowers and pretty paper for a card, you always said how much you loved handmade gifts.

Speeding back home to keep the flowers fresh, he saw a couple on—undoubtedly—their first date and smiled; he still remembered his nerves as he took you out for your first date. He kissed you under the low light of the lantern over your apartment entrance.

Back home, he found a vase in the crannies of his cupboards and presented the bouquet on his kitchen table, the card he made with press-dried flowers leaned against it.

It wasn’t long before his doorbell rang, and Spencer hurried from his kitchen to the door, cotton socks on his hardwood floor slithering.

“Hi,” he breathed out as he opened the door to see a smiling you.

“Hi,” you echoed. It was funny to think that you’ve known each other for years and still felt nervous around each other, as if you had gotten to know each other for the first time again every time you saw each other.

Spencer let you in and hugged you tightly, his arms wrapped around you securely and his head on your shoulder. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” You were rocking slightly, not letting go for quite some time, and when you did, it was just to kiss each other softly.

When you did separate, you were smiling fools. “I got you a little souvenir,” you said, searching your bag for the present. It was a little key charm, a vintage-looking lock. “I know it’s not much, but I found it in a vintage store and thought you’d like it.”

He took it from your hands, smiling even bigger. “I love it, thank you.” He kissed your cheek. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded, linking your hand with Spencer’s as if you were going somewhere far rather than five steps towards his kitchen.

As you saw the bouquet, you gasped. “It’s so beautiful,” You peeled away from your boyfriend to look at it more closely. “My favorite,” you pouted at him, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” He said fondly, stepping closer to you to hug you from behind.

Not much cooking happened that evening, you mostly stayed on the couch, talking and kissing. Well, you did try to cook, but you were so caught up in each other that you accidentally burned the food and ended up on the couch, eating take-out from boxes.

──────── ✿

thank you for reading! please remember that reblogs and comments encourage writers to share more 𝜗𝜚

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cei1ne · 8 months ago

Text

—How the MHA men would react to you wiping their kiss as a a prank!

დ”*•.Summary:

Reaction of male My hero academia character of you wiped their kiss after they had kissed your lips

◌⑅⃝♡⋆Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki ; Denki Kaminari ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Sero Hanta ; Shoto Todoroki

✩•̩̩͙*˚Tags: Fluff, funny, prank, loving, married life, aged up, kissing

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰Wordcount: 1.3k

❧◦°˚A/N:

I hope I included the very important sexy men ‌and maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m not very famous right now but I think I will but also please don’t forget this is one of my first ‘story’? And English isn’t my first language! Ily guys!

Pt. 2. Masterlist

ᰔ ᩚ| Bakugou Katsuki (After he comes home from work)

The front door slammed, signaling Katsuki’s return from work. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he dropped his bag and ran a hand through his messy hair. His usual scowl was deeper than usual—clearly, it had been one of those days. You greeted him with a soft smile, moving closer to help him shed his jacket.

“Tch, don’t bother,” he grumbled, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Well, hello to you too,” you teased, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He froze for a second, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he leaned into the kiss. It was sweet, rare, and enough to make his bad day feel distant. But the moment he pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

“Ugh,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear. “Tastes like explosions.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and his brow twitched. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know,” you said with a casual shrug. “It’s like… smoky. A little bitter, maybe.”

His mouth opened as if to yell, but then he stopped, his expression shifting from irritation to disbelief. “Are you messing with me right now?”

You tried to keep a straight face, but the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away. “Maybe.”

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so sensitive!” you teased, poking his chest. “You’re not mad, are you?”

He scoffed, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Mad? Tch. Please. I don’t care.”

But as he turned away, you caught him muttering, “Next time, I’m making you taste like explosions.”

ঞ| Denki Kaminari (After he gives you a gift)

Denki burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear as he held a small, brightly wrapped box. “Guess what I got you!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Hmm, is it a puppy?”

“Better,” he said with a wink, handing you the box. Inside was a handmade bracelet, colorful and slightly mismatched, with beads spelling out your name and his. It was endearing and so Denki.

“Aw, Denki! It’s adorable,” you said, slipping it onto your wrist. “Thank you!”

Unable to contain your excitement, you leaned in and kissed him. He melted instantly, his cheeks glowing pink. But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated motion.

His face fell immediately. “Wait… what was that?”

“Just… something tasted off,” you said, feigning confusion.

His eyes widened in horror. “Off?! Like, bad? Oh no, am I a bad kisser?!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as he started pacing, mumbling to himself. “Maybe I need to brush my teeth more. Or chew mint gum before—”

“Kaminari, relax,” you interrupted, unable to hold it in anymore. “I’m joking.”

He froze mid-step, blinking at you. “Joking? You mean… I don’t taste bad?”

“Of course not! You’re fine, idiot.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Before you could react, he tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you wipe these off too!”

ஐ| Kirishima Eijirou (While working out together)

The gym echoed with the sound of weights clinking and Kirishima’s encouraging voice. “C’mon, just one more set! You’ve got this!”

You groaned, your arms trembling as you completed the last rep. “Done!” you announced, dropping the weights and collapsing onto the bench.

Kirishima laughed, offering you a water bottle. “Good work, babe. You’re getting stronger every day.”

“Thanks, coach,” you teased, taking a long sip. He leaned in, his red hair falling slightly over his eyes, and kissed you. It was quick and sweet, but as soon as he pulled away, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

His smile faltered. “Uh… what’s wrong?”

“Just… sweaty,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

His face turned red, and not from exertion. “Wait, I’m sweaty?!”

“Yeah, kinda gross,” you added, biting back a laugh.

For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt, his hand subconsciously touching his lips. “I—I didn’t think I was that bad…”

Unable to take it any longer, you burst out laughing. “Eijirou, I’m kidding! You’re fine.”

Realization dawned on his face, and he broke into a wide grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

Before you could escape, he grabbed you, pulling you into a bear hug. “If I’m sweaty, you’re gonna be too!”

“No, Eijirou, stop!” you laughed, squirming in his arms. But he just held you tighter, his laughter joining yours.

❦| Sero Hanta (While watching a movie)

You and Sero were sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by snacks and watching a cheesy rom-com he insisted on. His arm was casually draped over your shoulders, and every so often, he’d glance at you to check if you were enjoying the film. As the leads leaned in for a dramatic kiss on screen, Sero smirked and turned to you.

“Bet you didn’t know I can do it better,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and unhurried, his grin lingering even as he pulled back.

You wiped your mouth dramatically with the back of your hand, scrunching your face. “Ugh.”

Sero blinked, confused. “Uh… what was that?”

“Just… felt sticky. Like tape residue or something,” you said, fighting the urge to laugh.

His jaw dropped, and he let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no you didn’t. Are you saying I kiss like tape?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He stared at you for a moment before his lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Okay, you’re asking for it now.”

Before you could react, he launched himself at you, pinning you down on the couch and peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you can wipe all these off, huh?”

“Stop! Hanta!” you laughed, squirming beneath him, but he only laughed harder.

Shoto Todoroki (During a quiet moment in the garden)

The garden was peaceful, the air filled with the soft scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun. Shoto sat beside you on the bench, his mismatched eyes fixed on the petals of a nearby bloom. You loved moments like this, where his normally stoic demeanor softened into something tender.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. He returned it, his lips cool against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed still.

But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated frown.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Mm, kind of tastes… icy,” you said, smirking. “Like kissing a popsicle.”

He blinked, his face expressionless, but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips. “You knew I was cold, and you kissed me anyway. Complaining now seems counterproductive.”

You burst out laughing, and his smirk became more evident. “You’re such a troll,” you teased.

“I’m simply stating the facts,” he replied, but there was a rare glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Next time, I’ll use the hot side.”

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mina-org · 6 months ago

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tw: oral, threesome ig its just reader getting eaten out no mention of penis, yandere, smut really no plot, dub con, mentions of s/o feeling drunk

“That’s a little rude, isn’t it lovie?” Kyle's synthetic innocence is just so convincing, his lips brushing against your ear before he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re the one who invited him over.”

"I didn't." you retort softly, you wanted to have dinner parties with your friends, not Kyle's boss.

"ya said ya wanted to host more, cap wants to be a guest."

"I meant my friends coming over." Kyle shrugs you off.

"john's my friend, i just want to relax when im not deployed, you have all that time im fuckin' away and-" he cuts himself with a huff, trying to calm down, hes been on edge, that frown on your face haunts him. the way your eyes dart down, not looking at him.You freeze, at the way his voice raises and how his grip tightens. you were never good with yelling or fighting, especially with Kyle, he was another person when he was mad, you hated it. he doesnt want you afraid of him, he wants you happy, he wants to be enough for you.

"ya my missus? I take good care of ya? yeah?" he nods, pinching your chin, you have to his brown eyes and pouty lips. and you have to nod, Kyle takes good care of you, you sent him a letter complaining about cheap, shitty pans and he sent a le creuset set. whatever you needed you got, you can make dinner for John.

"come 'ere, take my card for the shop and get yourself a pretty dress, shorter the better babe" big hands grip your hips and press them against his own.

with a little spank you make your way to the shop, now eager to make a good impression on John.

You weren’t sure how you got here, you had a glass of wine while cooking and another with the meal, you were giggly but soberness was washing over you like icy water with sight before you. Sat on Kyle’s lap your new dress hiked up as his captain kneeled before you.

You don’t need to feel shy, love.”

"no need. ’m here to look after you. Kyle told me everything, how you like it, gonna take good care of ya sweet, we're gonna look after ya.” words fall from his lips like whiskey from a barrel, you cant help but squirm in Kyles lap, unable to talk back or even make eye contact with John. Kyle squeezes your hips, stilling you and pressing kisses down your jaw, forcing you to face john.

"Bet you're already soaked love, arent ya love? why dont ya check cap?" Kyle says in your ear, deep causing a shedder as he pries your legs open.

Kyle lifts you all too quickly and John takes the opportunity to tug off your panties and you assume toss them aside without a care too busy looking into Kyle's eyes to notice they'd been pocketed.

john's fingers grip at your thighs to keep you in place and he greedily dives in-between your legs, his tongue dips between your folds. You jerk instantly at the sensation, but you are unable to move.

Kyle holding you in place, his deep voice murmers, reminding you "good for my captain, you wouldn't show me up now, would ya love?"

John laps at your cunt like hes a man starved, because he is, so long since he had been face first in such a pretty pussy, his tongue plunging deep between your folds and hammering your sensitive clit, pulling pretty moans out from your lips.

Your hips are buckling, desperate for release as you clench around nothing, you can feel Kyle pressed against, occasionally rubbing against you.

you hide your face in Kyle's nape as John devours you, its noisy, vulgar almost, your moans and the almost slurping from John, you cant help the warm feeling rushing to your cheeks.

johns not a man to be ignored, he wont let his pretty girl hide, he could sink his teeth into your thigh or maybe spank your cunt but that would just push you further into Kyle and John just wants to look after his girl, he's been craving this, you, to prove him self. ever since Kyle showed him your polaroids and love letters he knew he wanted a taste, months of being deployed and drip feed tid bits about what you liked, the pretty sounds, how tight you were, how perfect youd be for them.

his eyes study you, your own are squeezed shut until his fingers enter you, you wants you to make a mess, all over him. hes a solider, he can handle it.

long and so thick, pounding your pussy so hard you babble something incoherent to Kyle.

"Keep ya eyes on me, got ta' use ya words love" his voice is gruff and commanding, you wanted to please him.

you're breathless, and nod, not the response he wanted, so a smack soon lands you your cunt and all you can do is bite your quivering lip.

"need ya ta' say it love, how can I give ya what you want?" you can only wince and pout as you receive nothing, you grind into Kyle but he soon holds you still.

"Ask for it like a big girl. your always so demanding with me love, caps seen all the letters, he knows you can use ya words." Kyle demands and your so close, your beg for it.

"please, please make me cum, captain, need it so bad.” you were greedy, wanting, needing, more and more of them.

his fingers soon plunge back into you, you're clenched around him so tight, its quicker than before, fucking into your pussy and his mouth sucks on your bud until your essence coats his beard.

"atta girl, knew ya could do it." Kyle says kissing your temple and John keeps lapping at your cunt, hes gotta get you ready, gonna be a long night.

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strungnews · 5 months ago

Text

CAN’T YOU PLEASE MAKE AN EXCEPTION?

Mornings with Mark and Eve are slow. You can feel how cold it is when one of them starts to slowly pull away from the human sandwich you’ve been put into every night. Sometimes even rotating to whoever needed it the most that day, but they favored you in the middle most.

You hate it when the bed starts to get cold once they leave their spot. A feeling of emptiness without someone on the other side to pin you to the other, the blanket of security now broken apart.

“Duty calls,” Mark rasps. It was usually him pulling from the hold, even if he didn’t want to. His hair is tousled, and shirt crinkled beyond belief, it could rival the world’s wrinkliest dog. Or a raisin.

You grumble before pulling away from Eve, tugging him back to bed. Eve, growing accustomed to the routine, ignores the two of you as she turns around and settles back into sleep.

Your arms wrap around his midsection, and he floats without a care, used to your antics while you hang onto him with an iron grip, surprisingly strong despite your groggy state. Your actions seem ironic since Mark’s the clingy one between the three of you.

“Hey, im serious. I gotta go,” He always feels bad when he has to tell you off, but its a necessary evil to do good in the world.

“I hate you.” “Love you too.” He’d hover over the bed for you to fall back on, and you’d let go with a bounce. Eve shifts with the sudden weight change before turning around and putting a leg over you, making you her human pillow.

“See what you’re missing out on?” You gesture between you and Eve, and Mark rolls his eyes when you stick your tongue out at him. Only crossing his arms to look at the two of you from above, watching you shift to hold Eve in your arms. Cradling her head to your chest as she basically intertwines herself onto you.

She loves doing that, especially to you. Because you never really know how to get out of it, let alone realize you were in it.

The morning afterglow is something Mark always appreciates whenever he sees the two of you cuddled together. He swears by it when he says it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. But he says that about a lot of things when it comes to you and Eve.

“Stop seducing me its working."

Mark puts a sheepish hand to his mouth while looking out the window, hovering down so he stands at the foot of the bed. Face flushed from the abundance of love he feels towards the two of you, it makes him frustrated beyond compare with how much he feels for you two.

He bites at the fat of his hand lightly, a small way to keep his cuteness aggression at bay with how his heartbeat start to pick up.

‘Calm down.’ He tells himself.

But the sight of you looking all confused, looking down to properly asses your sleeping attire. He might bite a chunk off of it.

You’re in one of the thousands of stolen shirts you took from Mark—thats honestly seen better days. Grease stains it at the bottom, unable to washed away either by hand or machine, you just gave up and left it as is when you could feel the fabric start to strain. Alongside the now newly growing patch of drool that Eve is helping you sport on your chest to further add onto the list of abuse the shirt has gone through. Sure, why the hell not Mark.

"What's this freak-o talking about?" You lean to Eve’s ear, whispering despite her not even being fully conscious yet.

She mumbles a small "dunno" and sits up to stretch, before kissing your cheek.

"I think my drool does make you pretty sexy." She eyes you up and down, and Mark only nods in agreement.

“Dated a buncha supers ‘n they’re all weirdos.” You tug a blanket to wrap around you, curling up into a ball.

“You love it. Now give me my kiss,” Mark leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek, but you turn away.

“Go brush your teeth first.”

“Rude, I thought you loved me! Morning breath and all.”

“I never said that,”

“It was in the unofficial contract you agreed to when you went into this. So, you technically did.”

He crowds you, easily picking you up and into his lap at your curled form, and you wriggle around like a rabid animal. Wrapped in foreign confines you had put yourself in.

“If I had to, so do you.” Eve mumbles while she pats down your bedhead and plants a kiss on it, making Mark whine.

“Is it that bad?” He puts a hand up to his mouth and breathes.

“I don’t want to find out.” You murmur through the fabric of your shared blanket, before turning away again when he tries to lean in.

“Cmon, just one peck?”

“Stop—ew, no!” Eve slowly joins in the fun, tickling you and holding you down so Mark can give you a loving smooch to the cheek.

“Gross!” You stick your tongue out in disgust, and Mark just kisses you again.

Eve does the same on the other cheek, and you groan.

“Stooop, I thought duty called?”

“Just give us a moment,”

They alternate kissing each sides, and you’re stuck on the bed to do nothing but take it.

Eventually, they smoosh you with their kiss, another sandwich they have made out of you. Maybe it was one of those hints they were dropping that you just never picked up on. Like before, when they flirted with you. Maybe you’ll make them sandwiches to bring along their ‘work’.

“You done?”

“Mhm,”

They pull back from their artwork, a proud hand on Eve’s hips and Mark on his chin. Before he pulls Eve by her waist and kissing her on the lips.

“There, now we can go.”

Eve bends to kiss yours, and you hum happily.

“Okay, now one last kiss before we go? For good luck?”

Eve makes her way to the bathroom, and she could feel the eye roll all the way from there when Mark begged.

“Fine, fine,” you pull him by the neck, and peck his lips. Before he holds onto your shoulders and pushes to continue further when you part from him.

His hands feel so warm when he holds you. Can feel the heat your skin radiates because your body pumps and produces blood to keep you alive.

He can compare your heat to the sun, a scorching but comfortable burn that he just can’t seem to pull away from. Like a moth to a flame. Making Mark and Eve the ones that keep you cool, not cold enough to turn you down, but not hot enough so you explode and destroy the whole universe.

“Mark!” Eve yells through the sounds of the shower puttering against the tiled floors, door still wide open for it all to be heard.

“Coming!” He yells out, before giving you one last kiss with a hug. You smell like Eve’s body wash and his shampoo. Like home.

The smell of that is now long gone on you. The room smells like copper and decay, the horrid smell coming from your corpse.

Your eyes are glazed over, limbs broken and torn into several places having to be cut apart so it all could fit into the body bag.

You’re cold. Ice cold. The sweltering loving heat you produced now nothing. Not a flicker, not even a flash of light through you. The fire burning inside now snubbed into nothing.

Mark and Eve are cold, with nothing to properly warm themselves.

His hands tremble at the sight, unable to properly see your body through the tears that wells up in his eyes while his hands clasp at the one still attached to you. Eve doesn’t speak. Didn’t even enter the room.

Already having her time when she waited for Mark to wake up from his three day coma. She wanted to do something to bring you back, to cheat death a second time for you. But it was too late. Your body had ran rigid and cold. Not a pulse when you were found by Cecil’s men.

And even then, she can’t hold back the tears she’s cried over for the past few days. Hearing Mark so hurt, hurts her too.

“Eve,” His voice cracks, just as it had done when he cried out for her. When he thought he had lost her before his very eyes.

“This—you can fix this, right?”

“Mark,”

“Please tell me you can,”

“I cant—“ she chokes. Turning away from the sight. She can’t stomach it.

Mark wails, and seeks comfort in Eve. Holding him like he had held her and you. Holding him tight enough to blanket him with the hold you and her shared.

It was still cold. Eve and Mark’s body shake as they sob onto one another. Like they were stranded in the middle of winter.

Is this how it felt whenever he’d pull away from you all those mornings? He can’t imagine how you must have felt in your last moments.

A/n: If it wasnt clear this takes place after Mark fights Conquest! I had the first part of this in my drafts for a while and had a eureka moment to mix that with the last episode of season 3. Anyways! Haha angst

Title was based off of “No more Birthdays”, one of the recent songs ive been repeating nowadays. each lyric that song had was gut wrenching sob

#News report!#invincible #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible show #mark grayson x reader x eve wilkins #mark grayson x eve wilkins x reader #eve wilkins x reader mark grayson #samantha eve wilkins #eve wilkins #mark grayson x you #markeve #markeve x reader #angst

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