#I fear there is no in between for her now

[sevsgiirl]

hi! can you write sevika with a shy virgin femme reader? i think they would be cute!

— carve your name into my bedpost.

sevika week 2025: first time, day 2.

synopsis: after nearly a year, you were still wary about disclosing your lack of sexual experience with sevika in fear of disappointment. but she doesn’t mind. plus first time for everything right?

word count: 3k.

tags: soft dom!sevika, bottom!reader, loss of virginity, choking, strap-ons referred to as cock, oral sex.

note: thank you so much for the req, anon! luckily your req matched the prompt for day 2 of sevika week so I just had to use it. you were probably expecting something more cute and wholesome and this might’ve deviated from that a little bit 😅 nevertheless, I hope you like it!

you never wanted to keep secrets from her.

you knew damn good and well it wouldn’t take long before sevika found out your dirty little secret - mostly because you didn’t do that great of a job at hiding it anyways.

in hindsight, you can see why she would think you had an aversion to her at this point. with you constantly dodging moments where you felt like things were becoming a bit too heated, pulling away just in time when you felt like the kisses grew hot and heavy - all of that just to avoid the one thing you felt like you weren’t ready for.

losing your virginity.

it seemed like such a silly thing to fuss over but it means a lot to you. you weren’t the type to wait until marriage but it tethered the line of something similar - you yearned for a connection before you even thought of getting to that stage with someone.

but it’s close to almost a year since you and sevika got together, and you’re actually surprised sevika was so patient in holding off sex with you until she knew you were ready.

it’s a well known fact that between the two of you, sevika was always the more experienced one - from the age all the way to the day she approached you like she had nothing to lose, sevika maneuvered through your entire relationship like it was familiar to her right from the very beginning.

unlike you, you’ve always been squeamish. about everything. you were non confrontational when it came to others and you had a more calm and collected way of handling matters in your life compared to sevika who was always more straightforward.

and you liked it because it balanced the two of you out. she was never impatient with you, she took her time in figuring out the inner workings of your mind and behavior.

it was in those moments of consideration and patience that you realized that damn, she was the one. because it wasn’t often you came across partners who were as tolerant as her, who in spite of your clumsiness and indecisiveness, she was always understanding.

that’s why when your one year anniversary neared, you debated over the idea many times before you came to the conclusion that if you were going to lose your virginity to someone - it was going to be her.

it was nerve wracking because not only was it your first time being intimate with sevika, it was your first time being intimate with anyone. ever.

you weren’t as skilled or knowledgeable with sex as sevika so of course, it was only understandable to be scared that you might fuck things up the first time.

but it was either now or never, because you knew if you keep pending it off god knows it’ll take until your next anniversary before you bring it up again, and although you don’t doubt sevika would be willing to wait for you, deep down you knew you were going to crack regardless.

so when the time came and sevika took you to a nice picnic date where she showered you with great food and gifts, the moment you two came home you immediately stopped by the doorway and squeezed her hand tightly.

she paused in her tracks and looked back at you, her height imposing as she towered over your smaller frame and god, you never realized just how intimidating she was up until this moment.

she was all hard muscle and sharp edges, you don’t blame others for doubting that underneath her hardened exterior laid a provider and protector - someone who constantly looked out and cared for you.

“something wrong, baby?” she asked softly, stepping into your space as she pinched your chin in between her fingers and tilted your head so you could look at her directly.

making you even more nervous because it felt like she was putting you on the spot.

“I-I’ve… been thinking.” you stuttered out as she continued to stare you down “I think it’s time.”

she didn’t quite get it at first, but it wasn’t until you lifted your hand and put it against her toned stomach, that everything suddenly clicked inside her head.

she blinked “are you sure?”

you couldn’t suppress your smile seeing as how that even after a whole year together, she was still willing to let you take your time and see if you actually wanted this.

“I’m sure,” you sighed, looking down at your feet “it’s just… I don’t wanna disappoint,”

“baby, you know that’s impossible. we’ve been together long enough and it’s not like we haven’t already been familiar with each other’s-“

“it’s not-“ you let out a shaky chuckle “just that. sev, I never really told you this but… I haven’t done it with anyone. like ever.”

she froze by the threshold of your apartment and looked at you, dumbfounded. processing your words just for a moment before her eyes softened and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm as she nudged her nose with yours. an affectionate gesture, one that soothed your nerves in an instant.

“no wonder it took you a while. I just thought maybe you weren’t sure about me at first,” she admitted and you immediately shook your head.

“trust me, I’ve never been more sure about doing it with anyone more than I am with you. you…” you paused to gaze into her eyes, feeling your heart clench at the way she was looking at you like you hung the stars “you make me feel so safe, sev.”

she could’ve crumbled right here and there. she might never say it outright like how you just did but the truth of the matter is, no one has ever left this much of an impact on her not until you came along.

before you, she was used to meaningless flings and hookups - dropping by at the gardens to fulfill her needs with any of the girls there because for the longest time, she thought commitment wasn’t for her.

then you proved her wrong.

so you could only imagine she wanted this to be special for you, but also from the deepest pits of her subconscious lingered a thought - one she was too ashamed to confess but the truth is, your inexperience turned her on more than anything.

perhaps it was the juxtaposition between you two. whereas sex was almost like second nature to her - for you it was a foreign language, but sevika savored the thought of being the one to take your virginity. of being the one to set the standard.

because if there was one thing she was certain about - not only was she going to be your first, but she was also going to be your goddamn last.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

fidgeting on the edge of your bed, you were like a leaf in the wind.

sevika could sense your nerves already. she told you to wait for her in your shared bedroom as she got herself ready.

you were still clad in your underwear and an oversized shirt. having taken your makeup off from the date earlier, you waited for sevika to emerge from the bathroom - your knees bouncing and your palms sweaty.

by the time you heard the door creak open however, the whole atmosphere froze as sevika stepped out and your whole mouth went dry.

because there she was, in nothing but her tight boxers that accentuated her thick, muscular thighs while she was left bare everywhere else.

you eyed her from head to toe - she’d taken off her prosthetic and you focused on her right arm as she flexed her bicep. her toned abs were on display as well as her visible V line that led your gaze down to her crotch where you noticed a happy trail peeking out from beneath her briefs.

you felt like a pervert.

your cheeks reddened as she walked closer to where you sat on the bed, trapping your legs together with her own as you clenched your thighs and she couldn’t help but smirk at how visibly nervous you were.

“relax for me, baby.” she purred, caressing your cheek before she pulled away to approach the dresser.

she rummaged through the insides for a bit and you tried to take a peek at what she was looking for, but all your curiosity died down the second you saw it.

a pool of heat suddenly flooded your insides the second you caught sight of the harness she had in her hand, as well as the girthy, long black dildo that was attached to it as she walked back to you.

she stopped in front of you with her eyebrow raised “you know what this is?” she asked and you were silent for a bit before you sheepishly nodded your head.

her eyes glinted mischievously “good,” she thrusted the strap to your open hands.

“because I’m gonna fuck you with it.”

your entire body grew hot as soon as those words left her mouth “is that alright with you?” again, you nodded your head, a little bit too eagerly and she could only chuckle.

“okay, now help me put it on. then we’ll prep you.” she said and you quickly got out of your daze as you helped her.

once it was on, the harness was snug tightly around her hips while the faux cock bobbed up and down the air.

you gulped, eyes wide and sevika was quick to ease your worries “don’t worry, we’ll take things slow.” she said as she bent down to give you a kiss.

it was warm, soothing but quick before she straightened her posture, hands finding purchase at the back of your head as she guided your mouth to her cock.

“open up for me, sweetheart.”

it was less of a request and more so a demand, nevertheless you parted your lips willingly and took her in your mouth inch by inch. meanwhile she made sure you didn’t go too fast as to not gag right away.

“shhh, that’s it. take it easy,” she muttered, licking her lips as she took in the sight of you struggling to swallow her cock “ease your jaw a bit, and relax your tongue. you don’t need to go all the way.”

you looked up at her with teary eyes and followed her instructions as sevika gently pressed her hand at the nape of your neck.

helping you as you slid your lips up and down her shaft while the obscene, wet sounds of your mouth swallowing her dick filled the room.

meanwhile, her breathing grew heavy as she lets out a groan “fuck, baby. you take my cock so well. so fucking good for me.”

she abruptly but gently pulled you away and you couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, making her chuckle.

“don’t worry, we’re just getting started. you were doing so good already though, weren’t you?” she cooed, wiping away a stray tear from your eye “now lay down for me, beautiful.”

and as you were about to follow her orders she suddenly stopped you “lose the shirt.”

you obliged, taking it off to reveal you with nothing but your underwear and no bra on. her eyes darkened as she reached forward and took one of your breast in her hand, kneading it before she carefully pushed at your collarbone as your back hit the mattress.

she kneeled in front of you and parted your knees, her hand sliding one side of your underwear down for you as you helped her pull down the other.

she lets out a curse once she saw your glistening folds “jesus,” she was dumbstruck, her eyes nearly obsidian “all this just from sucking my cock?“

you squirmed and instinctively tried to close your legs, but she pinned them down “I don’t think so.” her fingers glided along your inners thighs as she drew her head closer, her breath fanning against your clenching hole and you shuddered.

words couldn’t even describe the sensation when her tongue did a languid swipe at your needy cunt, your back immediately arching off the bed as sevika did her best to anchor you down with one arm. her eyes gazing up at you like a predator watching its prey before it decided to devour it whole.

and devour you whole she did, because one moment she was soft and gentle with the way she licked across your puffy walls then all of a sudden she took your clit in between her lips and sucked. hard.

you yelped because the feeling was just too intense. you’ve touched yourself before on multiple occasions but nothing could’ve compared to the real thing. laying down as your lover spread you open and savored every inch of you.

not to mention the sounds. the way she slurped at your cunt like it was the finest of delicacies while she moaned, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine as you jolted.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. sevika…” you cried as she added in a finger, pushing it in and out of you before adding another - scissoring them back and forth inside you as she curled them at the right angle that had you seeing stars for a moment “oh my god!”

you poured into her all sticky and warm, your slick dripping off her chin and she hummed, wringing your orgasm out of you.

“god, you take me so fucking well, baby.” she crawled up on top of you and kissed you like she was starving for it. the taste of your cum still fresh on the ends of her tongue.

“I think you’re ready now,” she claimed “if it gets too much you tell me, okay? we’ll stop right away. push me away if you have to.”

you shook your head “I’m fine, j-just… fuck me, please.”

she didn’t need to be told twice, with how desperate you sounded and the way your body responded to her, she was a lost cause.

before you knew it, she was guiding the tip of her cock and sliding it back and forth along your pussy lips, sinking into you little by little and you immediately held onto her shoulders for stability. feeling so deliciously full as you began grinding your hips onto hers, seeking friction.

“w-we’ll take it slow.” she said but even she wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, especially with how you looked up at her - all blissed out and opened mouthed.

stroking her cock in a careful back and forth before she bottomed out, punching a broken moan out of you as you felt the ridges of her cock massage your inner walls.

“it feels so good, sev. oh my god. so fucking good, baby. I love your cock.” you were practically slurring your words at this point and sevika had to physically restrain herself from driving herself into you with vigor.

this was your first time and she didn’t want to overwhelm you, but all of that simply got thrown out the window when she felt you dig your claws into her back, pulling her in.

“faster, sev. please.”

she shook her head, keeping her strokes steady and slow “b-baby, I don’t-“

“p-please. fuck me harder. I wont break, I-I need it so bad, sev. please.”

just like that, it was like a light switch was turned on. one moment her pace was deliberate and careful then the next, she was slamming into you that the head board smacked repeatedly against the wall.

not being able to contain the growl that rumbled from the depths of her chest as your pathetic whines filled her ears.

pounding her cock into you with such fervor that you could instantly feel your second orgasm bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna cum, sev. I’m gonna cum, baby, oh my g-god!-“

“that’s it,” she whispered, reaching out as she wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed. not too tight but just enough to get your mind fuzzy “be a good girl and cum for me. you’re so fucking good.”

beads of sweat slid down her forehead as she continued to drive into you.

“you’re so perfect, baby.” she whispered “never gonna let you go. I’m gonna be the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you hear me?”

your mind was practically blank as you only managed to nod your head in response.

she was panting heavily as she watched you approach the brink of your climax “good girl. I’m your first and last. nobody else.“

and that was the final nail to the coffin. with the band in your stomach instantly snapping, your slick poured out of you. abundant and wet as you cried into the crook of sevika’s neck due to the overstimulation.

“holy shit…” sevika muttered in disbelief seeing the way you squirted all over her.

it took about a minute or two before your pleasure finally subsided. your body deflating as she took you in her arms and pulled out.

the emptiness making you whine but she was quick to soothe it away as she captured your lips with her own. her tongue meeting yours in a passionate kiss as she held you against her you like you were made out of porcelain.

eventually, you had to pull away for air and once you did, she stood up and took the harness off her hips. heading to the bathroom meanwhile you were left in bed with your eyes shut, content.

you heard the faucet running and you felt exhaustion overcome you not until you felt a wet sensation around your inner thighs.

opening your eyes to see sevika cleaning you up with a damp wash cloth, and once she felt your gaze on her she all but smiled.

“I hope it was good for your first time,” she said and you couldn’t help but snort.

“good?” you repeated with a shake of your head “what we just did made me realize that I’m either marrying you or killing you because I don’t think sex with any other person is ever going to top… that.”

she couldn’t help it as she lets out a roar of laughter, making you smile.

“sadly you’re not going anywhere,” you said to which she could only chuckle at.

“yeah well,” she grinned, squeezing your hip affectionately “I don’t think I would want to either. I like it right here.”

[dilf-docs]

Atta Girl

old jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (old joel miller my GILF!), smut, sighs this is pwp who am i lying to, inexperienced!reader (yet for some reason she's a pro sucker lmao i'm a virgin don't come at me besides this is a fanfic who gives af if it's realistic or not), dirty talk, fingering, breast play, pussy pronouns, oral (m. receiving) (need that geriartric cock inside my mouth), some fluff bc we gotta balance this thing or i'm going to hell (okay he's not mean i baited y'all. mean jackson joel miller piece is still in draft dungeon)

word count: 4,722 words

side note: hell-fucking-o????? 2K CITIZENSHIPS APPROVED!?! ,, ok gonna be honest when i started writing in here and my first fic (an old man logan one, do u guys see a pattern?) i never thought i'd make it this far and it's all thanks to you my lovely citizens :,) you may think this is silly but your support means a lot to me (especially comments n' rb I'M A WHORE FOR THEM). now, yapping aside, as promised, this won the poll for the celebratory piece, so here you go !!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Joel Miller is a man hard to surprise.

Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.

Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.

He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.

And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.

Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.

But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.

"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"

He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.

"They sent 'cha?"

You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.

"No. I chose to come"

His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.

Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.

"And you ain't scared, kid?"

He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.

"I am" you answered truthfully.

Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.

"Then why are ya' still here?"

Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.

"Because I need you"

Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.

So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.

He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.

Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.

Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.

"Be my first"

He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.

And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.

The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.

But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.

"Need help down there?"

There's always that problem and you're always the solution.

"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"

Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.

It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.

The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.

Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.

He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.

He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.

"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"

You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.

"I'm fine"

He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.

"Talk to me"

"I want to suck your cock"

He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.

Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.

"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.

You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.

"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"

Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.

"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.

"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.

You nod, slowly.

"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.

Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.

"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"

You smile a bit. "Impatient"

"Minx" he replies, voice thick.

It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.

"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"

He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.

"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"

You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.

"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.

For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.

"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"

He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.

"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"

You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.

You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.

"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"

Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.

"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"

But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"

Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.

"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."

Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.

"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"

He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.

"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.

"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"

He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.

Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.

"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"

You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"

"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"

You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"

He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.

"Hard'a believe"

You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"

He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"

Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.

"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"

You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"

Needless to say, he's intrigued now.

"Care to tell?"

You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.

"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.

He raises a hand, expression curious.

"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"

"I want you to cum inside me"

The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.

"What?"

Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.

"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"

"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.

"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"

You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"

Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"

"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.

"Different's good"

You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.

"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"

You gulp. "Yes"

Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"We gotta take 'tis out"

He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.

"It's my shirt"

"It's a nuissance"

He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.

"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"

Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.

"Mine"

His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.

"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.

Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.

"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."

Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.

"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"

He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.

"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"

He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.

"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"

You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.

"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"

Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.

"'S sweet as always"

After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.

He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.

"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.

He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"

He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.

"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.

"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"

"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"

With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.

"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.

"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"

He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.

"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.

Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.

"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"

You nod, too eager.

"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"

Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"

With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.

"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"

He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.

Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.

"Not so bad for an old man"

He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

"Brat"

He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.

"But you love me"

Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.

"That I do"

You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.

"I love you too, Joel"

A beat of silence goes by.

"So..."

"So?"

Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.

"Any other ideas ya' wanna say outloud?"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @iamasaddie

[webslinger-holland]

Busy Woman | Bob Reynolds from Thunderbolts

Summary: She's always busy and he thinks she doesn't notice him, but she does.

Warning: NSFW smut 18+ minors DNI, mutual pining, slow burn, teasing and flirting, sexual tension and eventual smut, mentions of nudity, some language, fem!receiving, praise, unprotected sex, p in v, just saying...I've warned you, listened to too much Sabrina Carpenter and got inspired

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9 k

Type: Oneshot

One thing was certain: Bob Reynolds was not a morning person. He hated seeing the early sunlight leaking through the curtains and dreaded getting out of bed every morning. But he recently learned something...

She was a morning person.

And that's what got him out of bed in the morning.

Sometimes, Bob woke up before everyone else in the tower. He'd grab his keys and go out to a local coffee shop just to get her something. By the time Bob got back, he would find her hunched over the kitchen island, reading a debrief file, and enjoying a donut.

He was nervous to approach her; something about her made him not really know how to act around her. He timidly set down the special drink he ordered for her, sliding it closer to her and retracting his hand quickly as if he feared she'd bite him like a wild animal.

Very slowly, Y/n tore her gaze away from the file in front of her and to the plastic to-go cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes drifted upwards until they found the socially awkward boy standing in front of her.

“Did you get up early just to bring me this?” She knew. Of course she knew. She always knows.

“I was already up,” Bob mumbled, which was a lie. A huge lie. He’d set three alarms.

Accepting the drink, Y/n kept her gaze locked on him and was curious if he'd break under the pressure. “That right?”

He nodded too quickly and avoided her eyes as if they were burning. “Yeah. I— uh— I like walking in the morning.”

She hummed and glanced back down at the file. She brought the drink to her lips. “You didn’t poison this, did you?” she asked casually, as if it were a normal thing to say before sunrise.

Bob shook his head innocently.

"Good," Y/n smiled at him appreciatively. The look alone caused him to blush and his heart threatened to break out of his chest.

“I—It’s a caramel macchiato!” Bob blurted, louder than he meant to. He was just desperate to keep her attention on him. She looked back up at him with the tiniest smile on her face. He faltered under her watch. "W—With an extra shot...of...espresso."

"Is it just a coincidence that you know my coffee order?" Y/n wondered curiously.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound normal. “You… mentioned it once.”

That got a smile out of her—a small one, but a real one. One that made his heart leap so high.

She eventually redirected her attention back down to the file like nothing serious happened. Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. He wanted to say something else, anything, but his mind was just white noise. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck—a nervous habit, one he was sure she’d noticed by now. Then Bucky entered the room.

“There he is,” Bucky announced with an all knowing smirk, swiftly moving through the kitchen. “You're up early today. Out fetching coffee again?”

Bob groaned softly and backed away from the counter.

“You fetch hers too?” Bucky glanced between them, then grinned. “Of course you did.”

She didn’t say anything—just kept reading, totally unfazed. And Bob stared at Bucky unamused.

"You didn't bring us back anything?" Bucky looked offended and searched around as if expecting his coffee order to just magically appear.

This was something that Bob was teased about constantly by the team because all of them knew about the crush he harbored on her. He ultimately didn't want to have to explain his reasons to Bucky of all people, so he opted to leave the room.

But as Bob turned to leave, she glanced up again. Not with a smile this time, but with a thoughtful sort of look.

Like she was waiting.

The rest of the team was scattered around the base—except Bob, who was just walking and hoping he'd find something to get his attention. He didn't have a real destination, but he might have secretly hoped he'd run into her in the process.

Spotting her open bedroom door just ahead, Bob straightened his back in posture. He walked past her room, glanced inside, and continued on. Then he froze like he’d hit a wall when he realized what he just witnessed.

The lights were soft, the window cracked open. A breeze fluttered the curtains slightly. And there she was—laying on her bed, reading a book. Bare legs behind her and feet hanging over her back given that she was on her stomach. She looked completely at ease.

Just like bees to honey, Bob did a double take and backed up—slowly, quietly—just to get another glimpse of her laying there. He wasn’t even being subtle about it.

Hovering in the doorway, Bob awkwardly placed his hand on the doorframe. She was reading with her head propped on her hand, glasses sliding slightly down her nose. She looked so relaxed; she hadn’t noticed him at all.

Which, for some reason, made him ache a little.

“Hey,” he offered, voice hoarse and soft.

She glanced up, then smiled a little when she saw him. “Hey, Bob.”

He stared for one second too long. And then another. The silence stretched between them like taut wire.

“Did you need something?” she asked, brushing her hair back behind her ear.

"Yes—I mean no. I was just—passing by." His voice cracked. He cleared it and stood straighter. “I was, uh… going somewhere.”

"Where?" Y/n pressed.

Bob blinked, fiddling nervously. “Somewhere... not here.”

She smiled—lazy, amused. "Well. I wouldn't want to stop you from your very important mission."

His mouth opened and then closed. The gears in his head were grinding so hard, he could practically hear the smoke. She was doing that thing again—talking to him like she knew. Like he was a deer and she was just waiting to see if he’d bolt.

"R—Right," Bob's words caught up with his thoughts. He blinked twice and awkwardly shuffled away from the door. "Guess I'll get out of your hair then."

Her gaze found the page she left off on, still unfazed. "Have fun."

As Bob disappeared down the hallway, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Y/n let a small smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t look up from her book, but she didn’t keep reading either.

About once a week, Alexei prided himself in making a big hearty breakfast just for the boys with claims of them needing to spend time together as men. He served every kind of protein imaginable: bacon, sausage, eggs, ham, even steak once. He’d sometimes take requests—except waffles.

Bob had asked for them once.

Alexei had looked him dead in the eye and said, “Waffles are for children and men who fear chewing. I make you meat instead.”

And Bob obediently ate the ham served that day.

The three of them seated at the kitchen island. Bob sat with a fork in hand, picking at a pile of food he didn’t remember asking for and mindlessly thinking about her. Meanwhile, Walker was already halfway through his plate, Bucky was drinking a black coffee, and Alexei was flipping something massive in a cast iron pan over the stove like it owed him rent.

“Eat,” Alexei barked when Bob just poked at a sausage link. He promptly slapped two more onto his plate without asking. “You need more protein; women like men with muscle."

"She knows, guys,” Bob groaned, changing the subject. “She definitely knows.”

"Knows what?" Alexei glanced between John and Bucky like they'd left him out of a group chat. "I do not know. Who knows what?"

"Of course she knows," Bucky proceeded to lower his coffee. "You're not exactly subtle about it—bringing her coffee, walking past her room, turning into a tomato every time she so much as breathes in your direction."

"Ah, you mean her," Alexei connected the dots because even he saw how he looked at her.

"He’s hopelessly in love with her, but won't say anything." Bucky announced.

“She’s too busy for me anyway,” Bob mumbled, shoulders hunched. “She’s got stuff going on. Important stuff.”

John snorted. “That’s your excuse now?”

“She’s literally everywhere,” Bob said, throwing up a hand. “Working out, reading briefings, sparring—like, I’m supposed to just waltz up and flirt while she’s in the middle of combat training?”

“You already do everything but flirt,” Bucky pointed out and John agreed. “You bring her coffee, open doors for her, wait for her to finish meetings just so you can walk the same direction."

Alexei grinned. “He is soft for her.”

"I’m not soft—" Bob sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “She doesn’t even notice me.”

“Oh, she notices,” John said with a smirk. “She’s just pretending not to, which is way worse.”

“I can’t just say something,” Bob muttered. “What if it ruins everything? What if she laughs at me?”

“She won't laugh," John said confidently.

"And we’re not judging," Bucky added. "We’ve all been there. Someone cold, deadly, completely out of your league—”

“Whose out of whose league?”

All heads snapped toward the hallway.

There she stood. In absolutely nothing, but a towel.

Her hair damp, held up loosely in a messy bun. Her skin flushed pink from the hot shower. Her body glistened in the light, littered with small specks of water still. The towel hugged her body like it had been custom-measured to torment Bob specifically—just enough to cover, far too little to handle.

No makeup. Barefoot. And utterly unbothered. Just looking the picture of innocence.

When Bob saw her, he could have sworn his soul left his body.

The room went dead silent.

She couldn't really read the room, just noticed four stunned, absolutely useless men just staring at her like she’d walked in wearing fire.

She raised a brow. “Did I… interrupt something?”

“Nope,” John said, way too fast. “Just guy talk. Carry on. Totally normal.”

“You’re… uh… wet,” Bob blurted, mortified instantly.

She looked down at herself, then back up, amused. “Yes, Bob. That’s generally what happens when you shower.”

He made a small, broken noise that might have been a whimper.

"Just carry on. I'm not even here," Y/n waved off. She moved across the room and made her way over to the refrigerator, oblivious to the sets of eyes that tracked her movements.

The towel swayed. Bob’s jaw tightened. His face went red, then pink, then red again. His hand subtly shifted under the table as he sat up straighter, panicking slightly.

Spotting her peach yogurt, Y/n bend forward just enough to reach the back. The towel hitching up just high enough to give any of them far too much hope.

Each of them react different.

While Bucky sported a wolfish grin, he didn’t even try to look away. His eyes lingered—appreciative, amused, and entirely unbothered by what was clearly a nuclear-level distraction. He leaned back in his chair like he was settling in for the best part of the morning.

His lips curved. He was definitely tempted to whistle.

“Damn,” he muttered with a low chuckle. “Morning just got a whole lot better.”

Walker was mid-bite when he saw her. One second he was chewing toast, the next—he choked so hard he had to thump his chest to recover. He reached for his mug like it was a tactical maneuver, taking a long, steadying sip of black coffee. His eyes shamelessly watched her every move.

Walker murmured under his breath, “Sweet mother of—"

Next, Alexei is the only one unbothered by her actions. Instead, he finds pleasure in watching the other's reactions, smiling wildly like he was enjoying his favorite show on tv.

“Is very fun to watch strong men crumble,” Alexei commented cheerfully, sipping from his own mug and enjoying every second of this.

Especially Bob's reaction. That’s when things got really good. Because Bob was gone.

Frozen. Stuck. Statuesque.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t move.

“Ohmygod—” Bob choked, barely above a whisper. He slammed his eyes shut like he could unsee what had just happened. He tried to focus on his breathing.

He cursed under his breath like he was fighting to keep it all together.

He keeps telling himself in his head: “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t—too late.”

Withdrawing from the fridge, Y/n successfully closed the door and spun around on the heels of her feet. She held up the yogurt cup and was handed a spoon by Alexei. Peeling back the foil and dipping the spoon into the yogurt, Y/n brought the spoon up to her mouth and savored the first bite.

Her gaze flicked across them casually, but then landed—lingered—on Bob.

Her brows knit slightly. “Something wrong?”

The others were no help at all. Because John was hiding a smirk behind his cup and Bucky watched the interaction with the widest, all-knowing smirk on his face. And all the while, Bob was struggling to breathe.

Bob finally managed something that resembled speech.

“N-No,” he croaked. “Nope. All good.”

She blinked. “You sure?”

Bob nodded. Too quickly. “Yeah. Great. Perfect. Totally normal morning. Nothing weird at all.”

“Okay.” She turned and walked off, towel swaying with every step like she was floating. Everyone's gazes trailed after her as if wanting to commit the image to memory. "If you need anything from me, just ask!"

They heard the door of her room shut softly. They huddled together to speak in harsh whispers.

"Why didn't you say anything to her?" Bucky spoke first.

“She was wearing a towel,” Bob whisper-yelled. “What was I supposed to do—confess my love while she’s practically naked?!?!”

John, still gripping his coffee like a lifeline, muttered, “I would’ve.”

Alexei shrugged. “You were supposed to suffer in silence. Like the rest of us.”

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Bucky brought their attention back and Bob looked confused like he'd missed something important. “She said if you need anything, just ask—that was an invitation,”

"What?" Bob asked, clearly not interpreting it the same way.

“She basically dared you to say something.” Bucky pointed out.

Bob groaned in frustration, dragging both hands over his face. Feeling like it was another missed opportunity. “But if I say something now, it’ll be weird."

“I don’t think she’s the one uncomfortable,” John said, not even pretending to hide his grin.

"That's what I'm saying! She knows, definitely knows. And it amuses her. She's messing with me," Bob threw his hands up in slight defeat.

"Ah, but you like it.” Bucky said flatly.

“…I do.” Bob confessed timidly.

"Just don't get too excited there, sunshine." John remarked. John’s gaze dropped—and Bob followed it, his stomach dropping.

And Bob immediately slapped his hands on the table, desperate to block any view of his pants. He felt his face turning pure crimson in color; the others only chuckling in amusement.

The base was mostly quiet in the evening. The lights were dimmed and the place had a soft hum from something far off like white noise in the background. Everyone just about in for the night.

All except Bob who found himself wandering the dark hallways aimlessly. He slowed down as he neared her open door, being curious about why it was still open this late. Peering inside, Bob found her sitting on her bed with legs curled beneath her. She absentmindedly stared out the window, admiring the city lights. The faint glow lit up her face, soft and calm.

Bob hovered in the doorway for a moment too long, rehearsing a dozen things in his head before any of them made it to his mouth.

She noticed him, but didn’t turn. “You’re not great at sneaking up, you know that, right?”

He stepped inside sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to sneak. Just… trying to find the right moment.”

“That so?” She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable but clearly open. “Is this it?”

Bob hesitated. “I—uh—guess it has to be.”

He stood awkwardly in front of her bed, wringing his hands together as if the action would put him to ease. She watched him in anticipation, waiting for him to just come out and say it. She didn't even know that she held her breath.

“You’re probably too busy for this. For me," Bob said. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Too busy for what, exactly?” That seemed to get her attention.

“I don’t know. For… whatever this is. I mean, I’ve been trying not to make it weird, but it probably already is weird. You’re always working and focused and—God, I sound like a lunatic—” Bob wanted to cower into himself.

“Bob.” She stood up right in front of him.

He stopped. His eyes met hers. He searched for something, really anything that could have been mistaken as a hint. Rejection or acceptance.

"I already told you: If you want something,” she said gently, “all you have to do is ask.”

The silence stretched between them. He opened his mouth and closed it, desperately trying to gather his courage. She waited for him patiently, not pushing him past discomfort. And then:

“I want you.”

Her lips curved into a quiet smile of satisfaction. As if she’d been waiting exactly for this.

"There it is," Y/n accepted.

Bob didn’t answer—at least, not with words.

Any space between them was quickly closed. His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as his mouth crashed into hers, finally giving in to everything he’d been holding back.

She met him halfway, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. There was no gentleness in it, not at first—just hunger, urgency, months of glances and tension and unsaid things pouring out in one sharp breath.

Her hands found his shoulders, his back, tugging him in like she’d been waiting just as long because she truly had. She guided him toward the bed, slow and steady, letting him follow her lead.

Their clothes began to slip away piece by piece until there was nothing left to shed. His hands finally rose, gently framing her waist like she might vanish. Then his palms slid up—slowly—over her ribs, along her back, until she was pressed against him, chest to chest.

He lifted her without a word, carrying her the rest of the way to the bed, and laying her down like something sacred. When she laid back and pulled him over her, he hovered for a breathless second and searched for any sign of wanting to stop all this.

Her legs shifted, opening just enough to let him settle between them. She weaved her fingers through his brown locks of hair, drawing a soft moan from his lips. He whispered her name like a damn prayer.

"I've waited so long for you," she breathed. He kissed his way down her stomach slowly and worshipfully. Her thighs trembled under his touch and he gently coaxed them open to accommodate his shoulders.

When his mouth finally found her—hot, desperate—she gasped his name and arched against him. Her voice breaking on every syllable, but he desperately needed to taste her. He took his time with her.

Because he wanted to memorize every moan, every whimper, every shake of her legs around his shoulders.

Her hands gripped at whatever they could find—his hair, the sheets beneath them, even his shoulder—as he worked her over with patient intensity. His tongue worked eagerly, drawing every last drop of sweetness she had to offer him.

When she came undone, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls and he held her through it.

She was still catching her breath when he kissed his way back up, slow and reverent, like he was savoring the aftermath. Her fingers tangled in his hair again, pulling him toward her until their mouths met—hot and hungry this time, tasting the want between them.

“Bob,” she whispered against his lips, and that alone nearly undid him.

He groaned low in his throat, like he couldn’t contain it anymore. “Say that again.”

She did—his name soft, broken, beautiful—and it lit something inside him. He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to catch his breath, but the way her hands ran down his back and dug into his skin left him trembling. That was all it took.

The last of his control broke. He kissed her hard, needy. She arched into him, nails leaving little red trails down his back, her legs curling around him to pull him even closer.

His body trembled with restraint, every muscle tight with need as he hovered just above her, their breaths mingling in the space between.

Her legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into his back, urging him closer. "Bob..." she whispered, her voice a shiver in the dark. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He swallowed hard, eyes locked to hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. His thumb caressed the edge of her jaw, slow and reverent. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she promised. “You’re already everything I want.”

He kissed her again—deeper this time, like he needed it to breathe and his hips slowly rolled forward. Their bodies aligning in a way that stole both their breaths.

Careful to draw himself back out partially, Bob thrusted and moved deliberately. He was too busy feeling the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers flexed against his back, and the way her breath caught in her throat when he rocked his hips just right. His name slipped from her lips again.

“God,” he groaned into her neck, barely holding himself together. “You feel… oh, God… so good.”

"Then don’t stop,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping together. She tried meeting his thrusts. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And Bob didn’t.

He moved with aching slowness, letting the tension coil tighter, letting it drag out—each motion deeper, more desperate, more consuming. Until they were both trembling from the force of it, completely lost in each other.

The sound of their bodies moving together filled the room, slow and rhythmic, a symphony of want and wonder.

He stole a glance downward—just once—and the sight nearly undid him. The way they moved together, how perfectly she welcomed him, how her body responded like it had always been meant for his. A quiet curse escaped his lips, and he dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing hard.

“You… you’re everything.”

She turned her head, lips brushing against his temple, her voice breathless. She corrected him. “I’m yours.”

That did something to him. He gripped her tighter, forehead pressed to hers, his rhythm faltering only because he was overwhelmed—by her, by the way she looked at him, by the way she whispered his name like he was her only tether.

They could feel it building, that tight pull low in their stomachs, coiling tighter with every movement, every breathless sound that spilled from the other.

“Bob—” she gasped, her voice trembling, wrecked with need. “I’m… I’m so close—”

“I’ve got you,” his own voice rough and unsteady. “Come with me.”

His hand slid down between them, finding the spot that made her cry out. Her walls clenched around him as her body seized beneath him, and that was all it took.

She broke first—back arched, head thrown back, breath catching in a stuttering moan of his name. And as he felt her fall apart around him, he followed—his own release ripping through him in a wave so sharp and overwhelming he could barely breathe.

They held onto each other through it—through the trembling, through the gasping, through the aftershocks that left them both reeling.

And still, he held her like he was afraid to let go. Because now that he had her, he never wanted to stop.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS OR IF YOU'D LIKE MORE WORKS LIKE THIS!

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You came to Velaris under duress five years ago—pregnant, alone, and in hiding from something, or someone, too dangerous to even speak aloud. When your daughter begged you to go to school years after settling down in the apartment above a worn-down apothecary, you obliged her. But things still didn't feel safe. Azriel was going to do everything in his power to give you that safety. At least, he would try. 

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, references to an abusive family

a/n: Here is part 8!! yayy!! (and also sorry hehe oops)

Series Masterlist (all parts)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Within the echo of your hurried footsteps on the creaking apothecary floor, your labored breaths were plentiful and difficult to quell. You had sent Melanie upstairs the moment you unlocked the door, a feigned smile creating the guise that she needed to hurry and pack her things for her sleepover later. That’s why you had rushed away from the school. Not because you feared for… several things at the meeting of the General of the Night Court. 

Melanie believed you, too distracted by her excitement to remain fixated on her confusion.

That was good. 

She was fine. You were fine. 

Would you stay fine? 

Cassian was not dangerous, according to Azriel, but Cassian was loyal to the Night Court. Azriel had assured you that his family would never put you or your daughter in harm's way, but that had never been what made you feel safest around him. 

“It has been carved into my chest from the moment we locked eyes.”

“I have waited for my mate for centuries. I have dreamed of you and wanted you, and I don’t know if that scares you, but I hope it can be some consolation.”

“I want to be all in with the two of you. My life has… it’s changed. It’s different now, because of you.”

It was Azriel himself that made you feel safe—that made you trust. And even though you knew you could trust his words, you couldn’t trust Cassian. You didn’t know Cassian, and even worse, Azriel had told you one too many times how much of a loudmouth he was. He wouldn’t tell the High Lord about you in a malicious way, but it would end poorly. This would all end poorly. You should leave. You should—

The door to the apothecary swung open with a force, the knob smacking into the wall on its way. You turned in anticipatory fear, hand over your heart, but much of that melted away when it was Azriel alone walking through the entryway. 

He seemed to take stock of you first, looking for something by your feet that he did not find before moving to your hands, your shoulders, and behind you on the counter. When he completed his search, his shoulders dropped an inch, wings perking up from their drooped position. 

“Melanie?” he asked, feet rooted to the floor across the room.

You brought your hand up to clasp your forearm, the position protecting you from nothing. “She’s upstairs packing.” 

Azriel’s expression fractured. “Packing?” he croaked. The single word was almost unintelligible; it cracked and got lost in the deep timbre of his voice. 

“For her sleepover. She’s still going to—” 

You were interrupted by his boots closing the space between you. You felt him before you could catch up with his movements, his shadows slurring against your skin and into your hair. His forehead pressed against yours next, but when you went to search his expression, his eyes squeezed shut.

“I thought—” he began, brows furrowing and creating yet another crease on his face. “I thought I would find you leaving. I thought I scared you away this time.” 

Your chest cracked open, heart pounding against your ribs until it hurt. You wouldn’t tell him that your thoughts had gone to that. You wouldn’t share that just moments before he burst in, your fingers had twitched as you thought about the one trunk you kept in the back of the closet upstairs. 

You were used to running. 

Running felt safe. 

Azriel was the only thing that felt safer. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your drying lips as you replied, “No. No, Azriel. Mel is just packing for the night.” 

You had decided that the second he walked—or, rather, stormed—into the apothecary. You had decided that without the thought even materializing in your mind. 

Azriel’s hands, which had made a home along the back of your neck, slid up to cup your jaw. His eyes fluttered open, eager to meet yours, and a bittersweet smile lit them up in a devastating way. “Okay,” he seemed to say to himself. “Okay, good. I’m—I’m sorry. About Cassian. He’s agreed to keep his meeting you quiet.” 

There was something he was leaving out. The words were there, lingering in the dark parts of your mind. So you spoke them. 

“For now,” you nodded, clasping his wrists. “Quiet for now, you mean.” 

“No, he’s agreed—” 

“Az, we both know that there are too many moving parts here. Cassian may have agreed or promised or have good intentions, but there are also two five-year-olds in the mix and, eventually, you will have to explain why you keep disappearing from family events. Like Cassian said—” 

“I don’t care what Cassian said.” 

“I know,” you whispered. He was scared. You could tell by the way his hands trembled against you. You weren’t sure what else scared the Shadowsinger, but you hated that you were part of something he feared. 

“I have waited for my mate for centuries. I have dreamed of you and wanted you.” 

“I can—”

“Aziel, stop,” you softly commanded. “It’s inevitable.” 

“Tell me who you’re hiding from,” he practically begged. His wings stretched forward like shadows at your sides, protecting you from nothing. “I can fix it. I—You and Mel would be safer if—” 

You pressed forward on your toes, and you kissed him. 

He paused for a moment, his mouth stiff in shock against yours, but it only took a single breath for him to snap back to the present. Weeks of built-up tension and pressing truths and want poured into the way his lips reverently moved against yours. His touch, still a slight tremor lingering in the joints, moved up until his fingers found the base of your hair. He stepped forward twice, and your back met the front counter. 

He only kissed you harder as your right hand left his wrist to steady yourself on the counter. He kissed you harder and he brought his arm around your back to take the responsibility on himself. His hand in your hair bunched at the roots but didn’t tug or pull—it was like he couldn’t help it, like the want to bring you closer resulted in stiff limbs and clenching fists. 

You could have kissed him forever. He was keeping you safe here, his wings closing in even more if the light meeting your closed lids told you anything. His shadows brushed your skin, keeping you distracted enough for him to be in control of the kiss, but that wasn’t true; you knew in the small moments of hesitance that he would let you do anything—control anything. 

When you broke apart, chest heaving and lashes fluttering, Azriel trailed a few lingering kisses to your cheeks and at your temple. Those were familiar places, territories he’d allowed himself before you’d given such express permission as you had right now. His own breath was somewhat labored, but he wouldn’t stop touching you, wouldn’t fully pull away. 

“When I said it was inevitable—” you breathed out, bringing both hands to rest on the plane of his chest. “—I meant it was inevitable that I would have to meet your family. That they would know of me and… and Mel. I didn’t mean that I was going to leave.” 

Azriel’s nose nudged against your cheek. A beat of silence followed your words. He pulled back a few inches, tucked your hair behind your ears, and let his eyes trace each of your features. 

“You don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel forced just because of Cassian. I could make an excuse.”

He was giving you an out. You weren’t sure how he would possibly swing it, but Azriel was offering you more hiding. More secrets. The ability to have him without being tied down by his family and the role in the court that you so obviously feared. So many implications came with his offer. So many sacrifices he would have to make. 

The scales were tipping. Things were changing. Maybe they could know you and be none the wiser. Maybe… 

“I—I want to, Azriel. Melanie doesn’t deserve to be living in fear. Even if she doesn’t understand it right now.” 

Azriel looked down towards your mouth, expression pained in a lingering wince. He continued brushing your hair back—a nervous habit, maybe, one flourishing since you’d allowed him to really touch you. 

“And maybe I could explain things to you tonight. Fully. That way you can know what you might be bringing to your family before—”

“You are my family,” Azriel breathed out, the words not even in the air for a second before his mouth was on yours again. 

This kiss was slower, more purposeful, holding more meaning. 

It was cut short by stomps down the stairs. Azriel tore himself away from you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip once before pulling his wing back to reveal Melanie with an overfilled bag dragging behind her. Stuffed animals and at least four pairs of socks peeked out from the top, and you were quickly reminded why you never let her pack her anything. 

“What the heck are you guys doing?” Melanie questioned, frustration her primary emotion. “No one even came to help me! Mr. Azriel, only one of your shadows was hanging out with me, and I didn’t get my after-school snack.” 

Azriel took half a step back from you and schooled his face into a more managed calm, sincerity evident in his palm over his chest. “I apologize, Melanie. How rude of me. How about I come up and make your snack while you and your mom sort out the bag for your sleepover?” 

“I already packed it,” she drawled as if Azriel were blind, shaking the strap in her hand. “But I guess I would like a snack.” 

You pressed your fingers over your mouth to stop the laugh from tumbling out. Azriel shot you a playful side eye and squeezed your hip before meeting Melanie at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh, I can see that. But you can barely close it, Mel.” He gently took the bag from her, hauling it over his shoulder before lifting her to rest on his hip. “Anyways. Cheese and apples or the crackers I brought from my friend Sevenda?”

~~

Nervous energy permeated the room, the majority of it coming from you in droves. Some trickled from Azriel, but he hid it well within his constant movements. 

Melanie was next door. You had eaten dinner together. You were cleaning the kitchen now, a mundane task that could have been done later, but you were clearly using it as a way to bide time. Azriel was allowing it—he would always let you do this at your own pace. 

The more you dwelt on your previous plan of only telling Azriel who Melanie’s father was, the more it made no sense to you. If you only told him that piece of the story, he would still fail to understand why you’d run. He would know the name and position of one man and nothing else. 

It had to be everything. 

You chewed on the inside of your lip as the cleaning came to an end. Azriel made a show of hanging up the small towel by the basin and rubbing his hands together in finality. More time he was allowing. 

“The fire?” you asked, motioning to the sitting room. Azriel offered you a small smile and pressed his hand to your back, guiding you to the loveseat there. 

Your stomach was turning. He made no motion to urge you, mirroring you as you sat turned to face your mate. 

Your mate and you still hadn’t felt the bond. 

You picked at your fingers as they lay in your lap. 

It didn’t take Azriel long to cover your hands with one of his. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t need to know if you aren’t ready.” 

“I am ready,” you emphasized. “I trust you. Completely.” 

Azriel leaned down. “Then what’s wrong?” 

He would judge you. He would hate where you came from. He would turn you away. 

Before, it had been about safety—about protecting Melanie. If anyone knew who you were or who she was, they would turn you in. The reward for doing so was hefty and money was always a driving force. While Azriel may not have been swayed by money, a bargaining chip between rival courts was also nothing to bat an eye at. 

But he wouldn’t do that. You were sure of it. 

Now your fear lay in his reaction to the truth. 

“Nothing,” you assured, your smile tight and wrong as you looked up at him. “Just nervous, I guess.” 

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple, but he did not remain there. Azriel gave you space, not touching you, but leaving his hands within reach if you needed them. You would tell this story alone.

“I won’t interrupt,” he said, voice carrying a regalness you hadn’t heard from him. 

A deep breath. “I’m from Autumn, but you knew that. Melanie’s father is also from Autumn. He doesn’t know about her, though I think he might suspect since I ran with no contact after we…” You looked down at your hands. “We weren’t together. I’ve never been in a relationship. Never been allowed to.” You tilted your head to the side. “I grew up as a court lady. Trained to be one, anyway. My marriage was not planned at birth, but it was very carefully calculated by Beron.” 

You felt Azriel shift on the loveseat, the cushions jostling you. When you looked up, his brows had lowered in concentration or confusion, you couldn’t tell. True to his word, he did not interrupt. 

“When it was finally decided, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. The man they chose was a high-ranking noble from Spring, and he was—well, he was vile. About 3 centuries older than me, with a propensity for violence against women and multiple deceased wives. If you can connect the dots there,” you spit out. “But it’s not as if Beron or my… my father cared about that. They only wanted what would come from the union. Spring and Autumn finally chained together when High Lord Tamlin was at his weakest. They tried to force the union with Tamlin himself, but he’s been too much of a wreck to agree to much of anything.” 

Azriel let out a breath as if he had gone to speak and thought better of it. You looked up at him with a searching gaze, but he only shook his head slightly and motioned for you to continue.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m telling this out of order. It’s difficult to gather my thoughts, but all of that is to say I had an arranged marriage I couldn’t go through with. My… brothers were all for it as well. There was going to be an announcement across Pyrithian and Beron was practically foaming at the mouth to have it all finalized. So, I ruined it. 

“Gods, I had no idea what I was doing, just that there was only one way that awful man wouldn’t want me anymore. He had made it quite clear that my virtue was of utmost importance to him, which was exactly why I was hidden away for most of my life. That, and they were all waiting until I was most useful.” 

You were starting to get angry now, and that inevitably led to you getting choked up. Your throat constricted and you twisted your mouth to the side when your nose started to burn. It was infuriating that after all this time, this still affected you this way. You bit your cheek and took a deep breath. It helped a little. 

“Do you want a break?” Azriel softly asked, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“No.” You let out a wet laugh and palmed at the wetness under your eye. “I’ve only been talking for a few minutes. I just get angry, I’m fine.” 

You paused after that, collecting yourself, but also getting lost in your head. Memories swirled together and assaulted your thoughts, reminding you of how terrible everything was and could be if this went poorly. Anxiety then came. And regret and confusion and hurt. 

You were too far off track to get back on the rails, so Azriel broke his own rule. “Why would you be useful, angel?” he asked, tracing his hand down to hold yours in your lap. 

“Oh,” you sighed, “Because I’m Beron’s daughter.”

[brittle-doughie]

[Heartfelt Annihilation]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

△ You stand back in horror, seeing Eternal Sugar AND Hollyberry Cookie together, lazing about together. Looking at each other dearly, as if there wasn’t just conflict between a while ago…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

△ You turn your eyes to your side to see the rest of the group, trapping in filled up jars. If it weren’t for the slight rises and falls of their breathing chests, you’d have thought they were dead.

“Are you having those feelings of doubt again? You poor thing, they must be tormenting you so much..!”

“No, they haven’t been bothering me as of lately. With all this happiness and Joy, I still feel as though something is missing in my heart..”

“Hmm, yes. I think I too share that feeling as well. I have you in my arms, yet I still find myself empty…”

“This paradise isn’t complete…not without them with me.”

“My heavenly! Yes, you are right! I can’t bear to see this as a true heaven without my heavenly with me!”

“Then I’ll go find them. Show them what this place has to offer. Maybe they’ll understand too, they will stay with me. With us. My greatest days will be with them…”

“Well, it looks like we didn’t have to search at all. Look. Our heavenly came right to us as my garden intended!”

△ You wanted to slap yourself hard there for just staring, when you could’ve already ran away. Now with both eyes on you, it felt like any move you’d tried would now be in vain. Fear takes hold as you reluctantly stand your ground.

△ You still tried for it-

“Y/N Cookie, wait!”

△ You turn your back right at the two, who looked at you with bouts of hope as Hollyberry Cookie had her arm reaching out.

“Please, listen to me-“

“No, you’re not the Hollyberry I knew! She would never have descended into sloth! She would’ve preserved!”

△ Your shouting made Hollyberry reel her hand back, looking at Eternal Sugar with concern as she did the same. They turn back to look at you as Hollyberry now started to step closer slowly. You took appropriate steps back.

“Y/N Cookie, it’s really me. I know you might not be happy with me right now, but I swear that what I had done was to protect everyone!”

“She is right, my heavenly. Here, there is no pain. No sorrow. No fights or anger. Only Happiness eternal. Isn’t that what you always wanted for Cookiekind? For everyone around you to be happy?”

“No, not like this! Not having to keep them in jars or putting them in slothful stupors!”

“This was the only way, Y/N Cookie. It is now your turn. I can see that you’re still holding back, keeping yourself shut away from everyone else.”

“And for whom? For a Cookie that’s long left you behind? You let yourself continue to feel this pain just to carry the torch for them? If you simply let go, Hollyberry Cookie and I can give you just as much love as they had, perhaps even more!”

“You’re treading on thin ice here…”

△ Despite the growl in your voice, tears start to form at your eyecings. You hated when you’re hit when it hurts and they knew it, feeling sympathy for your pain….

“Y/N Cookie, please don’t cry! Run to me! Making you upset at me is never what I wanted!”

“Stay back!”

“Am I wrong, my heavenly dearest? That Cookie continues to bring you sorrow and pain even right now. If you simply let us have you, we’ll make sure that you NEVER had to experience that pain ever again…”

“We can all simply remain here in paradise, you and us…”

“Like what we always wanted. Right, Y/N Cookie?”

△ You wanted to cry as you shake the weapon in your hand. You wanted to just run into their arms and just sob into their hold. Just for this to all be over, consequences be damned. You just wanted things to go back to how they were, to have things be okay again…

△ You were already missing Hollyberry…

△ You missed her so crumbling much…and Eternal Sugar felt nicer now than she was before…

….

….

….

….

△ Hollyberry and Eternal Sugar were before you now, smiling warmly. Their eyes brimming with love as they reach out their hands to you.

“May our greatest memories be together, Y/N Cookie/my heavenly darling.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[seongwars]

My Heart, Your Highness!

Pairing: non-MC x Prince-in-Disguise!Rafayel, non-MC x Prince!Sylus Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: None, slight OOC for some characters Summary: You've been summoned to the imperial palace, and Sylus can't help but notice that he's seen the man beside you before…

a/n: here's the masterlist for this series because I really need to be more organized about my fics

“Who does that girl think she is!?” Elizabeth shrieks, hurling her comb to the floor.

“I offered her Sylus! The future emperor! And she’s engaged to a…a commoner!”

A trembling maid offered her a fresh one but Elizabeth batted it away. “She is throwing away the crown! For what? For paintbrushes?”

You don’t hear your aunt’s screams, but you feel the tremors of them. Somewhere down the corridor, something shatters. You freeze midstep, heart hammering as you frantically sift through any possible excuse that might sell your so-called romance with Rafayel.

Word of your engagement spreads faster than plague, thanks entirely to your mother, who likely sent poor Jeremiah sprinting through Linkon before she’d even finished her scream…or finished fainting.

“I’ve decided to get engaged,” you declared over tea.

Your mother’s face lit up. This was it. Her moment. The culmination of years scheming with your aunt, to get you into the palace. At last, you were ready to marry Sylus.

And then Rafayel stepped in behind you. 

Your mother’s smile faltered as her gaze flitted between you and Rafayel. He was plainly dressed, no crest on his lapel, no lineage to proclaim. Just Rafayel. Just a painter. A commoner. Not the kind of man suited to marry her daughter. 

Her hand trembled, and the teacup slipped from her fingers, shattering against the floor. Chaos erupted. The family physician was summoned as Jeremiah barked out orders to retrieve lavender water. The household was thrown into a frenzy before she could even begin to process your words.

It was only a matter of time before the news reached the palace.

“Remember, pet names are fine. Sweetheart, darling, whatever sells it. Hand holding is fine. Forehead kisses only in dire situations.”

Rafayel lounges across from you in the palace antechamber. One arm drapes lazily along the back of the velvet settee as he nods solemnly, but there’s a wicked glint in his eye that says he’s going to push every boundary you just set.

“Define dire,” he asks.

“You’ll know it when it happens,” you sigh.

You press on. “No real kisses.”

His mouth twitches. You pretend not to notice.

“You think that little of me?”

You bristle. You’ve always been a romantic at heart, saving your first kiss for something real, something grand, like the final chapter of your favorite novel. And yet, here you are, tangled in a lie, "engaged" to a man you plucked from the street, all to stave off your own premature death.

“I don’t,” you hiss, beginning to pace. “But right now, I’m more worried about being publicly executed. Do you have any idea what she’s capable of? I’m convinced she orchestrated the Empress’s mysterious illness!”

Rafayel remains absurdly calm. “We can still leave. Philos is lovely this time of year.”

“That’s not how this works!”

“No,” he says, lightly. “But it could be.”

“Be serious!”

Rafayel watches you cross the room, his smirk fading ever so slightly as he takes in your trembling form. Something about your fear strikes him, like it’s all consuming. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve stood on the edge of something awful. He rises from the settee without a word and his gaze searches yours. Whatever he finds there softens his expression. 

“We’re going to be just fine. You’re not alone in this.”

You blink. And for a moment, you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time. Gone is the dramatic, starving artist. What stands before you now is someone refined. Regal, even.

He offers his arm, and without thinking, you take it, letting his warmth quell your nerves. The two of you walk toward the great hall, sunlight spilling through the palace windows catching on…to him. 

The light brushes over Rafayel’s features, highlighting the elegance in his movements, the constellation of faint blemishes on his skin, and the violet shimmer in his eyes and hair. He has always been handsome. But now…

Now, walking beside him like this, he no longer looks like the vagabond you once stumbled upon.

He looks like he belongs here.

The doors to the great all swing open and you step into the room. Your aunt peers down at you both from her seat, completely subdued as if she weren’t throwing a tantrum moments before. 

“Your Grace,” Rafayel says, bowing low. You follow suit.

“It is an honor to be in your presence.”

Your aunt’s eyes narrow, but Rafayel does not flinch. He meets her gaze squarely and for a moment he commands the attention of the room with nothing but the weight of his presence.

“You are,” she begins, voice clipped, “the man my niece has chosen?”

“I am,” he replies smoothly.

“You are a painter. A man with no title, no family, no name. What exactly can you offer my niece?”

“I understand this may be difficult to accept, Your Grace,” he begins, bowing his head slightly.

“But I do not come here with a name meant to impress, or a fortune to ease your doubts. I come with only myself, entirely and without reservation.”

He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel your heart stutter. For a wild, unbidden second, you forget your purpose. Why you're even here in the first place. What game you were supposed to be playing. 

There is only him.

“I cannot offer her land or lineage, nor a title to anchor her future. But I can offer her the one thing I believe to be more enduring than any of that.” 

He doesn’t look away.

“A heart that has already chosen her. A devotion that asks for nothing, yet offers everything.”

And then his voice lowers, soft, reverent, as he turns fully toward you. As if nothing else in the room exists. As if you are the only one he came here for.

“Should she allow me…I would be honoured to spend every day proving myself worthy of the place she holds in my heart.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears. Your hands tremble in your skirts. You can't move. Can't speak. Because how do you speak when someone has handed you their whole heart?

How is it possible that the man without a title speaks like he was born to be heard?

And worse—why does it feel like the words were never meant for the others at all? Why does it feel like they were only ever meant for you?

You stare at him, lips parted, and think, this was never part of the plan.

But heavens, you wish it were.

Even your aunt, ever ready with a snide remark, hesitates. Because for all his mystery and lack of pedigree, Rafayel stands there like someone born to command not by title but by truth.

“Well,” Elizabeth says at last, “you speak prettily for a man with nothing.”

She rises from her chair as her maids fall into step behind her. Everyone bows their heads, save for Rafayel, who meets her gaze with defiance.

“Let us see if your actions match your poetry.”

Your aunt sweeps past the two of you as the doors close behind her with a muted thud. You don’t know what to say. 

So you say nothing as he offers you his arm and helps you up. 

Sylus stands in the shadow of the grand hall, hidden from view, yet his eyes are fixed on you.

Or rather, the man beside you.

The painter with no name, no title, no place at court yet who speaks like he commands it and it unsettles him. He’s certain he’s encountered this man before. This stranger who somehow speaks with the air of someone far more than he claims to be. 

But where?

Behind him Luke and Kieran stop just shy of the threshold and bow, careful not to disturb the moment.

“Your Highness?” Luke asks quietly.

Sylus doesn’t turn. 

“Find out who Miss Shen’s suitor is.”

Kieran exchanges a glance with Luke, then nods. “At once.”

As they slip away, Sylus remains still watching him.

This man's posture, his words, the way he neither hesitates nor overcompensates; all of it speaks of someone who knows precisely when to bow, when to smirk, when to hold his tongue.

He wears the disguise as if it were second nature.

And that is what troubles Sylus the most.

 ⟡ ݁₊ .

“Home at last!” you cheer, flopping on to your bed. 

"Told you, you wouldn't die," Rafayel smirks, settling onto the bed beside you as if he belongs there.

You peek at him through one eye. "Where did you learn how to act?"

"Natural talent, obviously."

You snort, shaking your head. You turn onto your side, meaning to tease him again but he’s much closer than you expected. His face is only inches away. His gaze dips—first to your fingers tangled in the sheets, then to your lips, and finally, back up to your eyes.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly.

Your breath catches, and you grab a pillow, smothering it against his face. “As if!” you squeak.

He lets out a muffled laugh beneath the pillow, then gently pushes it aside and flops onto his back. You sit up, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Speaking of which, there's a tea at Madame Li’s estate tomorrow.”

“That sounds ominously formal.”

“It is. The entire family’s expected to be there. My brother, my sister-in-law and the entirety of Linkon's nobility. It’ll be our first time appearing in public together.”

His brows lift. “Our debut, then? How grand.”

“More like a trial by fire,” you mutter. “If we slip up even once it’s over.”

“So what does that entail, exactly? Should I stare at you longingly across the garden? Bring you cakes? Reach for your hand…”

His voice trails off as he reaches forward and gently takes your hand in his. You freeze, breath catching in your throat.

“Like this?” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Before you can process what’s happening, he lifts your hand and presses a soft, chaste kiss to the back of it. Your fingers twitch in his grasp and your mind goes utterly blank.

"I shall do my best to appear entirely smitten," he says lightly, still holding your gaze. Then he releases your hand and rises to his feet.

“Goodnight, my dearest,” he adds with a half-bow, as though nothing at all had just happened.

You toss your pillow at him with a huff, but he’s already ducked out, grinning like the rogue he is.

Outside the door, Thomas waits in the hall with his arms crossed. As the Lemurian prince emerges, the humor drains from his face, replaced by quiet scrutiny.

“No one here knows who you are.”

“It’s better that way.”

Thomas’s jaw tightens. “Might I remind you that secrets like yours come with a cost?”

Rafayel exhales slowly. The warmth in his smile fades, replaced by a hardened expression. “Then I’ll pay it.”

He turns and walks down the corridor. But with every step he takes, the weight in Thomas’s pocket feels heavier.

The folded parchment presses against his robes like a phantom hand. Thomas withdraws the letter once more, eyes skimming the closing lines. His gaze lingers on the signature of his wife, then lifts to the shadow of Rafayel’s retreating figure.

"They're already searching for you."

taglist: @animegamerfox @beaconsxd @browneyedgirl22 @crimsonmarabou @whosthought @zoezhive @cupid-gene @miffysoo @novthirty @vigtore @idiashusband @ladyrosemone @flamedancer13 @zephyri1388 @caramelizedpopcirn @crystalfay @dramaticalsachan @zaynessdarling

[mako-neexu]

.

OMG her pain etched on her face and the scars across her skin while wearing something risque is so sexy and horrifying both on a physical and symbolic level i am obsessed!!!

physical sensuality aside, the horrifying aspect that the artist's caption that accompanies the piece makes it so delicious! Ritsuka is witness to people literally get cut in half or a thousand pieces. She has seen millions of scenes of blood both in dream,reality and in between.

She has seen war, death, and decay. Of the ugliest of human nature to exist, to the nonhuman, mechanical, cold and most alien perform acts that would break even the strongest man on earth. All of that she is thrust into hell itself where screams would endlessly ring in her ears

Everyone around her, everyone she loves will die easily like flies. And she has no time to grieve. She has no time to stop and look back. She shall be plagued with nightmares everytime she closes her eyes, she has no time to breathe or much less think-

And then:

Suddenly, she is surrounded by smiles as if there was nothing wrong in the world at all. As if the Bleached Earth didnt exist just outside the ship, as if they werent running out of time, as if she didnt witness the death of someone she was close to mere *hours* ago-

She is suddenly now in the midst of an amusement park. Atop the rollercoaster and ferris wheel, amongst the spinning teacups and bumper cars, in the middle of playing games to win prizes. (But everytime she looks down at her hands, there would be blood, there would be remnants of gore on her skin, the spleen of a man she tried to protect, the fingers of a mother and baby running away, the remnants of her killer's heart stuck under her fingertips--)

And then she would blink.

And then that vision will be gone.

i just love op's art so suddenly as her pain and fear and anxiety is present on her face and across her skin and we see her in a bunny suit that aims to commonly please customers; particularly men for their enjoyment. and its another symbolism added when you remember what nasu's stance is on audiences and their hunger for stories and their tendency to discard it for the novelty because of their voracious appetites. But i really love this art because it looks like she was FORCED and RUSHED to wear this suit and it fits her circumstances very well especially when she literally goes through the most horrific situation ever and then suddenly the next thing she knows she's having tea and snacks with mash, playing in the beach just when she lost [DATA LOST], dragged out to shenanigans by another Servant's whim..

you just returned from another traumatizing world-ending reality and you promised you had to participate in your servant's wacky ass event

[gold-onthe-inside]

northern attitude

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: after your friends with benefits arrangement comes to an end, spencer's persistence gets him to the bottom of your fear to commit to him, especially when all signs point to you liking him back. content warnings: hurt/comfort, r's insecurities (not being good enough for spencer, not being a particularly romantic person), r yells at spencer word count: 1.4k a/n: sequel to orbiting around you. find more tough!reader here <3, dividers are by @saradika-graphics

It’s like withdrawal, being cut off from you, and it hurts. It hurts watching you act like nothing had changed between the two of you. His mood flits from hurt and sad to angry and frustrated. He wants to beg on his knees, wants to put his fist through a wall. It doesn’t help that he can’t sleep at night, his mind replaying that day at the high school, in the mens’ room, begging the man with a shotgun not to kill the boys who assaulted his daughter, trying to argue over the voice of the girl who egged him on.

Usually, he could turn over, use you as a distraction, hand skimming soft skin, sliding under your cami, tucking you closer as he pressed his lips to your shoulder until you stirred. Or, if you weren’t already there, he’d cross the distance between motel rooms, knocking on the door, barely waiting until the door shut to crush his lips against yours.

But he’d ruined it. He’d wanted more. Pushing your guard down with each kiss, each ramble, falling in love with your soft smile, your quiet sense of humour. Not a week went by when he wasn’t catching your wrist in his hand, his grip loose, asking the same question: “Why does it have to be one or the other?”

And every week, you’d give the same answer: “I’m no good for you.”

Unanswered questions keep him up all the time, you keep him up all the time. Every day, he dragged himself out of bed, going to work, facing you and your schooled expressions, rivalled only by Hotch. And yet, a coffee would appear on his desk, made just the way he liked it, and the ache would return. Pending case files would mysteriously disappear from his desk when he came back from the bathroom. It comes to a head when you argue Derek down from the ledge of dragging them all out clubbing to a quieter bar which he’s eternally grateful for, and it’s when it clicks for him.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, sidling up to you, the now-empty glass of wine making him more confident. Your back’s against the wall, watching the rest of the team play pool, in your leather jacket and maroon tee, black Levi’s and sleek boots.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, caught off-guard as he leaned against the wall beside you.

“You’re afraid,” he repeated, adding, “of how much you like me. That’s why you don’t want commitment.”

You’re good at pretending, too good, but he’s gotten better at seeing the chinks in your armour now. “That’s a stretch,” you said, raising a delicate brow.

“No, the stretch is you assuming what’s good for me and making decisions for me like I’m not a grown adult,” he shot back, and judging by how your jaw twitches, it lands. You moved, draining the rest of your glass of whiskey before setting it down, fluidly grabbing your bag.

“I think that’s it for me tonight,” you announced loudly, the rest of the team murmuring ‘see you’s and ‘goodbye’s, and Spencer doesn’t bother with niceties, simply following you out.

“Stop running away from this conversation,” he demanded, walking out onto the curb.

“Oh, because you have me all figured out?” you scoffed, glancing at him before starting to walk to the nearest Metro station.

“Why is that so bad?” he asked, easily catching up with his long strides, turning on his heel to look at you as you both walk. His hair’s getting longer, a dark blue shirt contrasting pale skin, sleeves rolled up to veiny forearms, a striped tie that had been bothering her all day with how he’d done it unevenly, the end of it reaching his belt. He’s insistent, eager to please, an irresistable combination in the sheets, completely irritating outside of it. “I mean, your excuse is that the problem is with you, right? So, let’s talk about it,” he demanded, almost bumping into a lamp-post.

“I’m not doing this with you, Reid,” you told him, focused on getting to the subway entrance a couple feet away. “And especially not in public.”

“There’s no-one out here,” he contradicted, standing in front of you. “Would it kill you to be honest with me?” You let out a frustrated sigh as you find yourself blocked by his chest, his gaze laser sharp. “I deserve to be more than just a distraction, and so do you,” he continued, determined to get under your skin.

“Spencer, stop,” you snapped at him and he narrowed her eyes.

“Is that what it is?” he probed deeper. “You think you don’t deserve a relationship?”

“Jesus Christ, would you stop?” you almost shrieked, if not for the fact that you were on the street.

“No, because we’re talking about this!” he cried. “I’m done shoving this under the rug for whatever reason, and you— You will hide behind whatever excuse you can find to not confront this, which is really contradictory considering you’re the last person I’d call a coward—”

“Spencer, shut the fuck up!” you yelled at him, unrestrained anger lashing out at him, and he actually flinched. He stopped talking, watching you breathe heavily, sinking back against a wall and sliding down to a seat. He tried not to think about all the germs and bacteria that infest the street, sitting down next to you. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your hands laced on your knees, pressing your thumbs to your forehead.

Spencer simply shook his head. “I pushed you to it.” He watched you breathe, catching your breath.

“I’m not good at being a girlfriend,” you said softly, looking at your callused hand. “I’m not… romantic, or whatever.”

“Says who?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing, looking at you. “You make me coffee almost every day. You stole my case files so I wouldn’t work too late. And you know my favourite food, and you keep candy in a drawer for when I have sugar cravings. You listen to everything I have to say, even when you have no interest in it. That’s plenty romantic.” You met his gaze, earnest hazel eyes, turned amber by the streetlight, looking down at you fondly, and it terrified you, your eyes flitting back to your hands, lips pursed. He bumped your shoulder lightly. “What are you so scared of?” he asked you gently, watching you lean your head back, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Not being good enough. Or what you expect from a girlfriend,” you answered eventually.

“How can you say that without knowing what my expectations are?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern as you looked back up at him. “I mean, I want you to be you, and I want you to be comfortable, and to be honest, if you weren’t yourself, I wouldn’t like you half as much as I do.”

You take a beat to just process what he’s said, and then shake your head with a scoff. “This is what I mean. You’re just… effortlessly sweet, Spencer. And I’m not. I can’t… It doesn’t come as easy to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer countered, shifting to look at you better. “I mean… sure, maybe it’s hard for you to say it, but… I do think you show it. You show it every day.”

“That’s hardly enough, Spence—”

“It is for me,” he insisted, placing his hand on yours. “All I’m asking for… really… is the chance to return the favour. The only thing that has to change, if you think about it, is that we get exclusivity. That I get to call you my girlfriend.” He watched you mull over it for a moment.

“I think I’d like that,” you said eventually, your voice slightly small, and it’s the first time he’s smiled in weeks. Suddenly, he’s all energy, pulling you up by the wrist.

“Good, cause I have so many plans and places I want to take you, and they’re doing Othello this weekend at the Shakespeare Theatre Company—” You let him ramble on all the way to the subway, your brain fuzzy simply from holding his hand all the way, and he finally lets you fix his tie once you’re in the train, headed to his place.

[kayshiftsrealities]

Things that happen in the night

Remmick x afab reader smut

Summary: An attractive unknown man shows up on your doorstep every night. Beggin to be let in. You deny him each time until tonight. {inspired by a conversation with a c.ai bot}

Content: 18+ nsfw, AFAB reader, human reader, smut, lots of it

Word count: 7,183

It was a hot summer night. Your ma and pa fast asleep in their room at the back of the house. The sound of crickets chirping in the distance. You stood inside at the front door, a familiar sound of the porch creaking. Your eyes lighting up with fear and excitement, knowing just who was approaching your door.

You waited on him every night. You couldn’t help but admit your attraction for the man that showed on your porch every night like clockwork. But you were cautious to not let him in. Having heard word of strange men from far away lands, needing let in to come into your home. Ma said they was the devil but this man didn’t seem like no devil to you. Just mysterious and alluring.

But you knew better than to invite him in, so each night you spoke between the screen door. The man always beggin to be let in, but after your denials he would stop and just started speakin in riddles.. And you couldn’t wait to find out what he would say tonight.

As you opened the door you were greeted by that familiar face, covered in the pale moonlight. Your heart beating faster as he spoke up. “Well now, ain’t you a sight…” his voice deep and ragged. Standing there in his button up, caked in sweat, the top few buttons being undone so you could see his chest.

Your breath hitched but you held back as much as you could. Standing tall and crossing your arms against your chest to cover yourself, as you were only wearing your thin nightgown. “You know you ain’t supposed to be here…” you said softly, looking back into the darkness of your home. Acting as if your pa would be walking out with his gun any minute now but you knew damn well that wasn’t the case.

While you usually broke this tough act fairly quick each night, you still stood your ground at first anyways.

Looking back as the man began to speak, “You say that darlin’, yet you here every night waiting on me like clockwork.” He said with a smirk on his lips. “You know what I want… just invite me in…” He said as his hand pressed against the screen door.

“You know I ain’t about to do that, sir.” You hummed, softly tightening your arms around your chest as you could see him eyeing your figure.

His voice went from demanding to begging as he spoke up again. “Darlin’, you really gon make a man beg? Cuz you know I will. Get down on my knees right here on this porch and beg for ya.”

You lifted your chin holding a stern glance, a spark of interest in your eyes wondering if he would actually do what he said.

“You question my words? I’ll say please real nice, so long as you show me what that voice of yours sounds like beggin back.” He said grinning wide as he watched your body shiver at his words.

Your legs tightened at his speak and you knew he noticed, but damn you couldn’t help but get riled up. He did this to you almost every night and yet it was like you was hearing it for the first time.

“Now darlin’ you keep playing at purity but we both know damn well that ain’t the truth, huh? I hear how you breathe when I’m ‘round…” he said as he dragged his nails down the screen door as he stepped closer. “It don’t take much to get you riled up now does it?” Biting his lip after he spoke.

You were close enough to feel the hotness of his breath against your face as he spoke to you. “Frankly, you don’t know me one bit, boy…” you said sternly as you tightened your body.

He huffed, amused. “You never even tell me your name, and we sure know each other plenty ways..” His eyes looked at you unhurriedly, slow and sinful. ”Don’t have to know a woman’s name to know she’s sweet.” He said as he clawed at the screen door separating you. “Don’t have to know a woman to know just how fast to make her tremble…”

You shivered as he spoke. His words melting in your ears like milk chocolate on a warm day.

Crossing your legs tightly, feeling… things for this man that comes to your door each night. Asking for permission to be let in and yet each night you deny him. You wonder the things the two of you could get into if you were to do so but you knew better.

“I… that’s no way to talk to a lady, sir.” You said clenching your legs at his words.

He laughed under his breath, rough and dark. “You really think I need to worry about manners when it comes to you, girl?” His thumb rubbing soft circles on the screen. Your skin was too warm. His eyes caught you clenching your legs tight.. he could see clear as day how the action made your nightgown ride up the bare length of your thighs.

His gaze burned lower, before it flicked up to meet yours. He knew exactly what you were thinking, what you were wanting.

You shiver as you watched his gaze. “Now what you gonna do to me if I let you in, hmm.” You ask with a forwardness, wanting to hear his words.

His eyes flickered, darkened just a bit at the confidence in your tone. He liked that, this wasn’t the normal back and forth that he was used to with you. He leaned forward, lips curling in a grin. When he pressed against the screen door, you swore you could feel the heat of him. “Darlin’,” he said slowly. “If you were to open that door.. I’m not sure I’d give you a chance to change your mind. I’d have you under me in seconds.”

You gasped at his words. “My ma and pa are home.. I couldn’t… I can’t.” You whisper softly, shocked at how forward he was being tonight but you couldn’t deny that you liked it and wanted to find out more.

He chuckled, all lazy smirk and hooded eyes. “They’re sleeping, aren’t they? Sound fast asleep, darlin’.” His hand moving to touch the wooden door frame. “You’re too sweet for me not to get a taste.”

You weren’t a stupid gal. “I ain’t gonna let you in… but maybe we could go somewhere more private…” you let your words linger. Wondering what this man would reply with. Something probably witty as usual.

He looked at you, surprised as you’d never made that offer before. Hell, this was the closest he’d ever gotten to getting you alone. “Go somewhere more private?” He asked, voice low and curious. “Why’s that, darlin'? Don’t want your mama hearing how high that voice of yours gets when I’m touching you just right?”

You swallowed your gasp at his words. Shifting your weight. Deciding to match his forwardness, you spoke up. “If I’m gonna be with you I wanna be able to make as much noise as I want, sir.”

Your words sent a jolt through him, straight to his core. He was surprised, to say the least but he recovered quickly, a slow smile spreading across his face. He leaned back against the wood frame, his shirt straining at the shoulders as he crossed his arms. “Is that right?” He drawled, dark eyes looming over you. “So you ain’t gonna let me in, but you’ll let me have my filthy way with you in the dark?"

He had a point. Maybe it was better to find out in the safety of your own home. Where your ma and pa were. In case the man tried to pull anything dangerous. At least you’d have them right there to run in with they guns. Chase him off. Out in the wilderness, no one would be there to save you from this mysterious man with dirty promises.

This night there was something different in the air and you actually thought about letting him in. God knows you needed some sweet release and this man was out here promising you sinful things. Taking a deep breath you raised your hand to turn the door handle. Really contemplating lettin’ him in.

His eyes widened as he watched you turn the door handle. His expression shifted to disbelief, you were actually about to let him in.

“Come on in… but bet I won’t waste no time shootin if you pull something stupid now, ya here?” You said as you began to crack the door open.

His gaze darkened with hunger, excitement, and perhaps a hint of victory. He wasted no time, slipping through the door as soon as the crack was wide enough. “Hell,” he chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Look at you, little miss. You’re full of surprises tonight.”

You immediately regretted allowing the man into your home but now it was just too fuckin late to take it back. Seeing how excited he was to be in, no barrier of the screen door protectin’ you now. You were extra curious to see what he had in store for you. Being forward you took his hand and spoke softly, “Come, my room right across the house. Far from my ma and pa’s room.”

He followed you, quiet footsteps padding across the wooden floor. His hand was warm, and it consumed your entire smaller one as you lead him. Your heart pounded in your ears, a mixture of excitement and guilt at what you were doing. The house was dark, only a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window as you made your way to your room, across the house, far from the risk of being heard.

As soon as you got into your room you turned and closed the door between the both of you. “You pull anything, and I’ll have you out of here faster than you can say a word.” You said as you glanced back at the gun propped up on the wall.

He chuckled, leaning against the wall with a casual ease. His eyes darkened as they flicked over the gun. “Darlin’,” he drawled, his tone still playful. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” His gaze returned to you, tracing over the curve of your figure beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown. It was sinful, you almost looked like an angel. “So,” he said softly, a hint of wickedness in his smile, “Where shall I start first?”

You tilted your head with a grin and stepped closer to him. “Mister, you seemed so sure of what you’d do to me. I’d be assuming that you would’ve gotten started already.” You said as you toyed with his sweat stained shirt.

He chuckled, enjoying your playful tone but also the feeling of your fingers working his shirt. “You’ve finally decided to be sweet with me, after how many nights of denying me?” He teased, raising an eyebrow as his own hands came to rest on your hips. He pulled you towards him until the two of you were pressed right up against each other, barely any space between. He tilted your chin up, his expression growing more serious as he spoke, “You’re trouble, little miss.”

You gasped as he pulled you close. You could feel his heat through his clothes and his muscles against the fabric. “And what do you do to gals like me? Troublesome gals… hmm?” You said in a sultry tone, your eyes so close to his you could see them glimmering in the moonlight.

“Troublesome gals need a firm hand.” He murmured, his head dipping down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. His hand coming off your hip and making contact with your bottom, gripping it tightly as if he never wanted to let go of it.

You gasped into his ear, sending waves of pleasure through his body just at the sound of ya. “Reckless gals like you get taught a lesson.” He said as his lips curled into a smile. His hand squeezing your behind while the other gripped your hip.

“Then teach me then won’t ya..” you murmured through soft moans at his touch. Your bodies pressed against each other so that you could feel his excitement growing against your waist. Your hands coming up to rub his muscular arms.

He shuddered at your words, and the feeling of your hands on him. You could feel the muscles in his arms tense beneath your touch as he slowly moved you towards the bed. “Oh, little miss,” he drawled, his voice gravelly and full of warning. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He pushed you gently back onto the mattress, following you down until he was hovering above you, both of you bathed only in the soft glow of the moonlight.

You let out a quiet yelp as you were pressed down onto the mattress. “I know exactly what I’m asking for, sir. So do it.” You said before leaning your head up so that your mouth was close to his. Biting his bottom lip and tugging it with your teeth.

He inhaled in surprise, his breath catching in his chest as your teeth bit into his lip. His gaze darkened, pupils blown out as he loomed over you, the expression on his face a mixture of warning and desire. “You’re a tease.” He said lowly, voice rough with barely restrained need. “You think I’m gonna let that slide, darlin’?” He moved his weight forward, pressing more of himself against you, his body hot and solid as he pinned you to the bed.

You gasped as he pressed himself against your body, your thighs pressing together tightly. That familiar sensation between your legs. “No sir..” you smirked as your hands explored his muscular back.

He chuckled lowly, the sound almost a growl as he felt your legs press together beneath him. His own body reacted, his jeans suddenly far too tight as he pushed his hips into the apex of your thighs. His head dropped, his mouth finding the sensitive flesh of your neck and shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin, heavy and hot, as he left behind a trail of kisses. "Naughty girl," he murmured, his breath catching as he felt the soft press of your body against his. "You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'."

Your body shuddered feeling how hard he was against you and god it felt good to have a man’s lips on your sensitive skin. Not havin felt the touch of another man in longer than you could remember. You moaned out feeling his teeth graze your neck in between his kisses, “Oh god mister…”

He groaned at the sound of your moan, his lips trailing over your neck, moving up to your jawline and grazing your earlobe. His hand came to cup your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes were all dark desire, his expression nearly feral. "Say it again," he demanded softly. "I want you to say my name when you moan like that, little miss."

“Mister..” you moaned into his ear. “I don’t even know your name..” you said as your loosen your legs from one another and wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling his excitement closer to your core.

He inhaled sharply, a rough sound of surprise and desire as you pulled him in tight with your leg. He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "You want my name, little miss?" He asked, his fingers tracing over your jaw. "You want to know what name you'll be moaning in the dark?"

“Yessir…” your voice hummed in his ear as your chest heaved, nipples hard and poking through your thin nightgown. Feeling him so close, was a long time coming. All those nights of talk through the screen door.

He inhaled again, a sharp intake of air, his body shuddering against you. He was so close to losing control, to taking what he'd been craving for so many nights. Your voice in his ear and the feeling of your body, pressed so tightly against his. "It's Remmick." he growled, his voice rough and full of need. "That's the name you're gonna be moanin', darlin'. Remember it."

“Remmick…” you repeated his name back to him. A name you could never forget. “Oh I’ll remember.” You said as you shifted your body, using your leg for leverage and turned till you flipped him over. Remmick now on his back and you on top of him. Pressing him down onto the mattress.

He let out a surprised huff as you flipped around, finding himself laying flat on his back and you straddling his waist. His hands instinctively came up to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he stared up at you. "You're full of surprises," he chuckled, the sound low and ragged. His dark eyes looked over your face, taking in the sight of you poised above him. He was more than willing to let you stay in control, for now at least.

“Oh yes I am, sir. You’re gonna find out a lot about me tonight…” you said before you pressed your lips against his, hard and lustful, straddling his hardness.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he eagerly returned your passion. Remmick couldn't get enough of the taste of you. It was everything he'd fantasized about, and more. His body pressed against yours, his erection pulsing against your core. His hands moved up under your nightgown, palming the bare flesh of your thighs. He pulled away from your lips, breath ragged. "You gonna drive me crazy, little miss."

You pressed your core hard against him, shifting your hips ever so slightly. Driving him wild. “Don’t ya want to know my name?” You question with your head tilted. Your hands placed on either side of his head, thumb coming up to stroke his hair.

He grunted, the sound rough and needy, his head tilting back as he felt you press against him, the friction driving him wild. "Oh darlin'," he panted, his body tense and hot beneath you. "You know I do. I want to know every damn thing about you. But you're making it damn hard to focus. You're a wicked little thing, aren't you?"

You smirked at how flustered you got this man. Leaning down to softly kiss his neck, then coming back up to straddle him. “The name’s y/n..” You said as your hands came back to grip the bottom of your nightgown and began to lift it up so that you were straddling Remmick as bare as the day you were born.

His eyes widened as you straddled him without a stitch of clothing. His mouth ran dry as he took in the sight of you, bare and beautiful in the soft moonlight. "Y/n…” he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Goddamn, you're perfect. I could look at you all night." His hands moved to your thighs, his touch reverent as they traced and explored your skin. "I don't know how I got this lucky, darlin'. You're a vision."

“Good thing we’ve got all night then huh?” You whispered as your hands traced the buttons of his shirt. “Seems unfair I am the only one without clothes now, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled, his hands still roaming over the bare skin of your thighs, fingers tracing idle patterns over the softness of your flesh. "Can't argue with that logic, sweetheart," he murmured. His shirt, wrinkled and damp from the summer heat, suddenly felt too tight. His body was on fire for you, every nerve burning with need. He wanted to feel your skin against his. "You gotta get that damn thing off of me then."

You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it off him. A wetness growing between your legs as you took in the sight of his bare chest beneath you. Tossing his shirt somewhere in the room, without care for where it landed as long as it was off his body. You then went to work unbuckling his belt and slipping it from the loops of his pants. Quickly and hastily unbuttoning his pants. Lifting yourself up off him so he could slide them down and kick them off his feet.

He gasped at your quickness and looked up at you with needy beggin eyes. Wanting you to take the last of his clothing off, his boxers tight against his hardness and you smirked as you did just as he wanted.

His body was all hard planes and muscles, defined and built from manual labor. The sight of him naked and lying on your bed, was a vision you didn't ever want to forget. He watched you, his eyes roaming over your body with a predatory intensity that made your breath catch in your chest. He could see the way you grew slick and needy with each passing moment, and it drove him wild with desire.

Before you could hold back your words you spoke out to him, “I want you. I need you inside me, Remmick. So goddamn bad.” Your wet core rubbing itself against the length of him.

His breath hitched in his chest at the sound of your words. He could feel your body trembling above him, your need clear and undeniable. "Jesus... You gonna kill me," he muttered, his hands roaming over your thighs, moving higher, closer to that place that ached and pulsed with need. "Are you sure, darlin'?" He asked, his voice rough and ragged. "Once I have you, I won't be letting you go. You'll be mine, completely."

“I’m quite sure… sir.” You said aching with desire. Waiting for his next move as your slick wet his hardness. He grunted, the sound somewhere between desire and surrender. Those words, your desire, it was too much. He couldn't resist anymore. His eyes locked with yours, dark with lust. "You're gonna be the death of me." He said again. "But oh god, what a way to go."

You chuckled at his words as your hand came down to guide him into you, lowering yourself every so slowly onto him. The feeling of him stretching you out made you moan out. The tightness of him inside you burned but it was one of pleasure.

He bit back a curse, his head falling back against the sheets as he felt you around him. Your wetness enveloping him, it was overwhelming. He held on to your hips tightly, his body trembling at the pleasure of your touch. He lifted his head, his eyes locked on your face, taking in the sight of you. He'd never seen something more perfect, more beautiful than you in that moment. "Jesus..." He panted.

You began to slowly rock your hips, adjusting to his size. Hot breaths exchanged between the both of you. He watched you, his gaze full of both adoration and desire as you slowly rocked against him, his body tensing at the delicious friction. He was so hard it nearly hurt, but your heat was just what he needed.

He reached up with one hand, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you down to him, pressing his chest flush against you. He kissed you, deep and hard, desperate for more of you. Only breaking the kiss to speak up, "Baby, you feel so good." He murmured against your lips.

You kissed him back with a passion that you had not ever felt before. Your kisses sloppy and wet. Tongue running against his teeth. Wanting more of him. Your hips rocking to the perfect pace as you rode him. “Remmick.. god you’re perfect inside me.”

His breath hitched in his chest, his body burning with need at your words. The way you moved against him, slow and easy, it was like nothing else in the world mattered but the two of you, in this moment. He ran his hands over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you as he kissed you back, "Oh honey," he murmured, his voice a ragged husk. "You're the one who's perfect. I could stay like this forever."

Not having had a moment like this is forever you began to run out of stamina, your body twitching against his but you tried your best to keep up the pace. Wanting to please this man in all the ways possible.

He could tell you were struggling to keep up, your body trembling and tensed against him. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, but also the determination to please him. He smiled softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, gently stroking your skin. "Baby, let me take over." He said softly. "Let me do the work for now."

Pressing your face into his palm, you pleaded with him. “Please. Do whatever you want to me Remmick.”

His eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rising from his throat. He lifted you up, carefully rolling you onto your back and pinning you to the mattress. He loomed over you now, his expression feral and possessive. "Whatever I want, huh?" He asked, his voice a deep rumble. "Oh darlin' you have no idea what kind of trouble you're getting yourself into."

“I want you so bad. Please.” You cried with excitement and neediness as you now looked up at him. Pressing your waist up against him and your hands came up to grip his muscular back.

He growled, the sound deep and feral, his body responding to your every move. He could hardly take it anymore, needing you so desperately that it hurt. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hot, possessive kiss. "You're mine," he growled. "You hear me? You're all mine." He rolled his hips hard against you, his hardness pressed against your core. "Say it, darlin'. I want to hear you say it."

“Yes I’m all yours Remmick..” you moaned, as he slid right into you as if you were meant to be one, one flesh. He grunted, his body tensing at the feeling of you around him once more. It was heaven, and he never wanted to leave it.

He pulled you tight against him, his hands roaming over your curves, mapping every inch of your body with his touch. "That's right, baby," he murmured, his voice rough and ragged. "You're mine. All mine. And I'm gonna make sure you never forget it." He began to move inside of you, slow and deep, taking his time to savour each second of it. Feeling your tight walls around him.

“Oh baby. You feel so good inside me.” You moaned into his ear. Your nails digging into his back so hard they drew blood as he quickened his pace to the point he was now pounding into you. And god it felt so good. Being used and abused by him.

His breath caught in his chest at your words, your touch lighting his body ablaze. He was on edge, his control slipping away with every dig of your fingers, every soft moan from your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He panted, his mouth roaming over your neck and shoulders, leaving behind a trail of hot, wet kisses. "I've been wanting you for so damn long."

You could feel his movements becoming staggered and knew he was close to his release. You bucked your hips up to help his thrusts as you gasped and moaned into his ear. “I’ve wanted you since the first day you showed up on my porch, Remmick…”

His body shuddered at your words, the sound of your soft whispers sending him careening towards the edge. He groaned, his arms tightening around you, holding you close and tight as he thrust deep into you. "Oh god, darlin'," he panted, "You don't know what you do to me." He buried his face into your neck, breathing ragged, desperate breaths as he teetered on the brink. "I can't hold on much longer," he warned you, his voice rough and ragged.

“It’s ok baby. Release. Let it all go inside me.” You encouraged him, wanting to be filled with his release. This causing him to groan out, his body trembling as he finally let go, his climax washing over him in a wave of hot, shuddering bliss.

"Oh god, darlin'," he panted, his body shaking as he held you tightly. "You're so damn perfect." You smiled at him as you brought your wrist up to your forehead to wipe the sweat from your brow. “Now be a gentleman and clean a girl up…” you said as you looked down between your legs.

He sat up, moving down to your legs, his fingers tracing the lines of your thighs. "I guess I do owe you, huh?" He drawled, his voice low and rough.

You watched his every move, his body covered in sweat and his muscles shining in the moonlight. You couldn’t get over how attractive this man was and you wanted more and more of him. “Mhm… I’d say so..” you said with a smirk as you watched him move between your legs.

He stayed there for a moment, his thumbs rubbing eerily close to your core but not touching it just yet, his face lowering closer and closer between your legs but not giving you what you so desperately wanted.

Your hands reached down to rub his shoulders and you tilted your head back and closed your eyes. “Please. Remmick.” You pleaded as your hips came up trying to make contact with his face but he held you down so you couldn’t get what you wanted just yet.

He chuckled, his hands holding your thighs down, keeping you in place. "Look how eager you are for it. Begging me for it. It's hard to resist you, darlin'.. but I wanna see you squirm a little longer.." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your thigh, his breath hot on your skin. "You're gonna have to wait, baby. I'm not gonna give you what you want just yet.."

You groaned out “Fuck Remmick! Enough teasing! I need you so badly baby.” Your body squirming with each touch of the man. “I want to feel that filthy mouth of yours on me.

He grinned, his lips moving even closer to your core. "What was that, baby?" He asked, his voice low and rough. "You wanna feel my mouth on you?" His mouth ghosted over your core, his breath hot against your skin. "You gonna beg for me to give it to you?"

“Yes oh yes please Remmick…I want that mouth all over me. I want you to taste my sweetness. I’m so wet for you, can’t you see. Please give a poor girl like me some lovin..”

He groaned at your words, his resolve quickly disappearing. "Goddamn, darlin', you're driving me crazy." He muttered, his lips so close to where you wanted him. He lowered his head, his hot breath on your flesh. "I need to taste you, baby. I need to have you on my tongue. Are you ready for me?"

“Yes. God yes I’m so ready.” You panted at his touch and he could hear the desperation in your voice, the need and desire obvious to him. He knew he couldn't tease you any longer. He needed to give you what you wanted. He pressed his lips against your core, his tongue slipping out to taste you. You were so sweet and so wet, he couldn't get enough of you. He began to work his tongue inside you.

“Fuck…” you moaned out feeling his tongue in you. Your legs instinctually wrapping around his head to pull him even closer into your core and he groaned as you did so. He was lost in you, consumed by the taste of you. He felt as if he could do this forever, never getting tired of the way you responded to him.

He ran his tongue over you, his motions slow and deliberate, wanting to draw out every last bit of pleasure he could give you. He could tell how badly you needed this, by the way your body trembled under his touch.

“Goddamn, Remmick. You sure know what you’re doing.” You moaned and groaned as he worked his tongue on you. Your body wriggling at his touches.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled against your flesh. He couldn't get enough of the way you tasted, the way you moved against him. He wanted to bring you to the edge and then keep you there as long as he could. His hands dug into your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you. This was all he ever wanted, you, right here, in his hands. He worked his tongue against your core, his pace quickening.

You could feel yourself getting close already. Your desire and need for this handsome stranger was so strong. Something about him. Just was so alluring to you and the way he worked his mouth on your core was enough to drive you crazy.

He could sense how close you were, how your body trembled and tensed as he worked his mouth against you. He wanted to drive you over the edge, feel you come apart at the touch of his tongue. He was addicted to the taste of you, addicted to the sound of your moans, the way you gasped and writhed at the sensations he was creating.

You moaned loudly but his hand came up quickly to cover your mouth as to keep you from waking your folks. You couldn’t help but suck on the skin of his calloused hand that was covering your mouth. Driving him wild. Your release inching closer and closer by each second.

He groaned loudly at the feeling of your mouth on his hand, your tongue against his skin. He could feel the way your body tensed beneath him, he was so close to bringing you over the edge. He increased his pace, his mouth working tirelessly against your core.

The way he worked his mouth on you had you right on the edge of your release. Every time you felt as if you were going to come for him, he did something different with his mouth yet still so pleasurable. It halted your release and you begged him, “Please Remmick…”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough before speaking against you. "I'm gonna make you feel so damn good, baby. I'm gonna make you remember this night for the rest of your life." He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. "You're gonna come for me, aren't you baby?" He pulled his hand back from your mouth to let you speak. “Mhm. I’m so close baby.”

He could see the need in your eyes, the way you trembled and squirmed beneath him. He was driving you crazy, and he knew it. He loved having this power over you, the power to bring you to the edge and keep you there as long as he wanted. "I want to hear you say it, baby." He murmured, his mouth close to your core. "Say it."

“God yes. I’m gonna come for you, sir. So goddamn hard. I feel it. Just keep going on like that on my puss.” You begged.

He groaned at your begging, the sound low and animalistic. He knew he had you just where he wanted you, desperate and needy. He loved seeing you like this, his control over you complete. "That's it, baby. Moan for me. I want to hear you when you come." He said before he put his mouth on you again, his tongue licking and teasing you, his hands grasping your hips tightly to keep you right where he wanted you.

You felt yourself growing close to your release as he picked back up licking your core. “Fuck Remmick. I’m gonna come.” You pleaded for him to keep up his pace. And soon enough you felt yourself climaxing and releasing all over his dirty mouth.

He felt your climax, felt your body tense and shiver as it crashed through you. He kept his mouth on you, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could. He wanted to make it last forever, to draw out every last moment of ecstasy from you. Finally, he pulled away, lifting his head from your thighs as he looked up at you. He was watching your face, watching how your expression shifted as you came down from your climax. "You taste so good, baby."

Panting from your release you looked down at him, your chest heaving, legs shaking around him. Your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling his face up so that he crawled up your body and was face to face with you. “Let me have a taste…” you said as your eyes trailed down to his lips.

He obeyed you, crawling up your body so he was face to face with you, his body pinning you to the bed. He smiled down at you, a wicked gleam in his eyes. When you told him to let you have a taste, he knew exactly what you wanted. He leaned down, his lips just barely touching yours. "You wanna taste yourself on my mouth, baby?"

“Mhm… real bad.” You said as you pressed your lips against his, tongue running along his lips, getting a taste of your juices and his release mixed together. He groaned into your mouth, the taste of you on his tongue driving him mad. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, his body pressed flush against yours. He shifted his weight on top of you, his legs entwined with yours as he pulled away from the kiss.

"Goddamn, you're something else, you know that?" He purred, his hands roaming over your body. “Oh I know baby. There ain’t no one else out there like me.” You said with utter confidence. Hands exploring his bare back, feeling his raised skinned from where you scratched him with your nails.

He chuckled, the sound rough and raw. "Don't I know it, darlin.'" He said, his eyes looming over your body, taking in every inch of you. He could feel your fingers tracing over his blood stained back. "You're gonna drive me wild." He said with a chuckle.

“Oh that’s what I plan on doing, baby…” you said with a smirk before you turned your head to look out the window. “Sun’s coming up soon… you gotta leave don’t ya…?” You pouted. Knowing every time the sun rose Remmick was quick to disappear.

He sighed, his smile fading as he too looked out the window, noticing the first hues of light beginning to touch the horizon. He didn't want to leave, he really didn't, but he knew he had to. "Yeah... I do." He said, his expression turning sad as he looked back at you. "I'll be back tonight though. I promise. I hate leaving you... you know that.."

“Long as I get to see you at nightfall… I’ll be ok. Wish I could keep you here in this bed all day though…” You said sadly, seeing the genuine sadness on Remmick face made you even sadder.

He chuckled softly, his expression softening as he reached up to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your face. "Yeah... I know. Trust me, sweetheart. I'd love nothing more than to just lie here all day…” His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his touch warm and tender. "And at night, I'll come to you. Every single night."

“And I’ll be waiting on you each night.. now that you’ve been invited in maybe I’ll wait naked in my bed. Have you come surprise me…” you smirked as you looked at him, pressing your head into his touch.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, your words making his body react in an instant. He pressed himself closer to you, his body hot and needy, your scent surrounding him. "You trying to drive me crazy, darlin'? Cuz it's working." He muttered, his eyes darkening with lust. His fingers gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger.

You could see him getting worked up again and as much as you wanted to go for another round, you knew how important it was that he was gone by sunrise so you looked down. “Go on and get before we start something we can’t finish..”

He let out a low grumble of disappointment, but he knew you were right. He had to go, as much as he hated to leave your side. He took one last long look at you, your body laid out underneath him, a look of desire on your face, and he knew he had to leave before he got too distracted. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a quick, chaste kiss, his hands reluctant to let you go. "I gotta go, baby. See you tonight."

“See you tonight Remmick.” You said with sadness yet excitement for what was to come at sunset.

He lingered for just a moment, his eyes drinking in your face, committing it to memory. And then he finally stood up from the bed, the loss of his body heat making you shiver. "I'll be counting the minutes," he said as he began to dress, his eyes still on you, your naked body laying on the bed.

You nodded and frowned at the loss of his body heat. The coldness of being the only one in the bed made you grab the bed sheets and wrap them around your body as you sat up to watch him dress.

He dressed quickly, his hands moving fast as he tossed his shirt over his head and buttoned up his pants. He couldn’t look away from you, the sight of you wrapped in nothing but those sheets making his body ache with need. He had to have you again, but he knew he couldn’t. With a low groan, he forced himself to turn away, taking a deep breath to try and get his bearings. And with that he was off to god knows where…

[webslinger-holland]

love your writing so much! thought of a request were the reader is coming back from a mission and bob is jus waiting for them to come back. maybe its a close call so emotions are kinda high idk totally up to you!

Bleeding, But Breathing | Bob Reynolds from Thunderbolts*

Summary: After a nearly failed mission, everyone's emotions are running high. The reader finally gives in to the feelings she’s kept buried—collapsing into his arms knowing he's the only thing to keep her grounded.

Warning: near death experience and fear of not coming back from a mission, brief mention of blood

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Type: Another request

Note: I think I've been listening to too much Gigi Perez. This one was definitely inspired by "Sailor Song" and "At The Beach, In Every Life." So I really hope you enjoy this one!

The rotors of the quinjet slowed with a whining hum, cutting through the roar of heavy rain. Bright red lights from the quinjet illuminated the faces of those on the landing pad. Wind whipped across the exposed helipad. The sky was black, sliced by streaks of lightning, the downpour relentless.

Bob was there. Standing on the pad, soaked to the bone and hair plastered to his forehead. He didn't bother with cover—the rain lashed down relentlessly. Shirt sticking to his frame and his hair dripping into his eyes. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just waits patiently.

Behind him, in the short distance, Bucky, Alexei, and Ava also stood in the middle of the downpour. They’d stayed behind—it was supposed to be a simple data grab. Now they stood in the storm, fearing what that silence over the comms meant.

Even Valentina stood under an umbrella by the door, courtesy of Mel. Her expression was unreadable. Displeased.

The hatch lowered with a mechanical grind. And Bob straightened up a little.

John was the first one to appear and step out. Jaw clenched from frustration, one arm holding a bandaged side. He squinted through the storm and stepped aside.

Coming down the ramp, Yelena tried her best to support Y/n who came down with a limp and John came up beside her to help on the other side. With some struggle, Y/n was able to drape both of her arms over their shoulders; her weight uneven and her body failing her.

She limped down the ramp—her right leg dragging slightly, soaked in blood. Her face was pale, lips pressed in a tight pained line, and a deep gash on her head with blood running down the side of her face.

"Everything hurts," Y/n grunted out, wincing from the pain.

"Well, that's what happens when you decide to take on an army of security guards alone." John grumbled. His voice was sarcastic, but the tension in it betrayed real concern. They’d barely made it out in one piece.

"Next time..." Yelena began, still catching her breath. "We'll take them on together."

Without the overhang above them now, the three are fully soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds with how hard the rain was falling. A careful lift of the head results in Y/n stopping in her place. Her eyes locked ahead.

Bob.

Just there. Standing in the rain and soaked just like them. Worry etched permanently on his face. His mouth parted in slight disbelief. His shoulders relax noticeably at the sight of seeing her alive.

On either side of her, Yelena and John spare a quick glance at each other. It felt like the whole team knew there was some unspoken tension between Bob and Y/n, but it hadn't been addressed by any of them. Their gazes switch between the two of them, watching them carefully.

Bob took one tentative step forward. Then stopped, uncertain.

Y/n didn’t hesitate.

Both Yelena and John felt her shift out of their grasp.

She pulled away from them, wincing sharply at the pain in her leg. Her body screamed in protest, but instinct overruled everything else. She straightened as best she could and limped the last few steps on her own.

And then—she crashed into him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck. The force of it knocked him back a step, startled—but he caught her instantly. She reached up, cupped his face with trembling hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Their lips connect without hesitation, without planning.

It feels more desperate than romantic. A kiss born of fear and adrenaline and the dizzying reality that they’d nearly lost each other.

The thought of not coming back to him had haunted her the entire flight home. So she kissed him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

Like she couldn't bare the thought of being without him a second longer. She clung to him like he was the only real thing left in the world and the only person who was worth fighting for.

Initially, Bob froze only for a second—then he was holding her like the storm didn't exist, one hand on the back of her head, the other at her waist, grounding her back to reality. He melted into her so easily, lifting her just slightly off the ground to close the last of the distance.

Behind them, the team stared in stunned silence. Even Yelena and John stood wide-eyed, brows raised.

And from the shadows, Valentina narrowed her eyes. Observing. Calculating.

Holding her impossibly close, Bob had no desire to release her anytime soon. Their lips moved together in sync, not rushed, not hesitant—just overwhelmed. He didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Their first kiss—born out of too much fear and too little time left in this world.

The rain pounds around them, soaking through everything, but neither flinches from the sound of thunder.

Finally, needing air, they broke apart—just barely. Breath mingled between them. She leaned her forehead against his, their noses brushing.

"I—I almost didn’t come back," she whispered, voice cracked from fear.

Bob shook his head immediately, as if trying to shake the words from reality. “Don’t say that,” he pleaded. His voice was raw. “Please don’t say that. I couldn’t—I couldn’t live if you didn’t come back.”

Tears welled in her eyes. A broken sob escaped as she brought the back of her hand to cover her mouth, her fingers trembling.

He pulled her tighter against him, like he could hold her together by sheer will. The adrenaline faded. Her composure cracked. Her body began to buckle under the weight of everything.

But he didn’t let her fall.

[lizardywizard]

It's a serious thing, yes. But as part of a system that experiences psychosis, I have to say this is also grave misinformation. Lobotomies were developed with "extreme cases" in mind, but the use of them grew rapidly in later years as people developed "more efficient" procedures:

The transorbital lobotomy procedure, which Freeman performed very quickly, sometimes in less than 10 minutes, was used on many patients with relatively minor mental disorders that Freeman believed did not warrant traditional lobotomy surgery, in which the skull itself was opened. A large proportion of such lobotomized patients exhibited reduced tension or agitation, but many also showed other effects, such as apathy, passivity, lack of initiative, poor ability to concentrate, and a generally decreased depth and intensity of their emotional response to life. Some died as a result of the procedure.

(Source: El-Hai, Jack. The Lobotomist: A Maverick Medical Genius and His Tragic Quest to Rid the World of Mental Illness. Wiley; 2005. ISBN0-471-23292-0, via Wikipedia.)

Transorbital lobotomy, to be clear, is the "icepick through the eye" lobotomy that is often thought of when people think "lobotomy". The previous procedures had involved opening up the skull, and these were also performed on relatively "minor" cases:

The patients were aged between 27 and 62 years of age; twelve were female and eight were male. Nine of the patients were diagnosed with depression, six with schizophrenia, two with panic disorder, and one each with mania, catatonia and manic-depression. Their most prominent symptoms were anxiety and agitation. The duration of their illness before the procedure varied from as little as four weeks to as much as 22 years, although all but four had been ill for at least one year.

(Emphasis mine. Source: Berrios, German E.. The Origins of Psychosurgery: Shaw, Burckhardt and Moniz. History of Psychiatry. 1997 [archived 30 December 2009];8(1):61–81. doi:10.1177/0957154X9700802905. PMID11619209, via Wikipedia.)

So yes, you could have had depression or an anxiety disorder for four weeks and be lobotomised. The procedure was disproportionately done to women who were considered to be, yes, "difficult to deal with", and sent to psychiatric institutions - but the reasons were often just that their parents or spouses didn't like the way they were acting:

Five of the six patients in the case study by Freeman and Watts were women whose symptoms — apprehension, insomnia — seem incommensurate with their treatment, but whose status as women sanctioned it. A patient previously fearful of aging could now “grow old gracefully” and care for her home. She complained of a lack of spontaneity, but her husband praised the changes her surgery had wrought, declaring her “more normal than she had ever been,” possibly the least credible measure of therapeutic success in the annals of history. By 1942, 75% of the lobotomies Freeman and Watts had performed were on women.

(Source: Andrea Tone, Mary Koziol, (F)ailing women in psychiatry: lessons from a painful past. CMAJ. 2018 May 22;190(20):E624–E625. doi: 10.1503/cmaj.171277)

It's well-known and well-studied that asylums were used, between the 18th and 20th centuries, as a holding place for people whose families found them unruly, opinionated or at odds with mainstream society. Including gay men, who were also victims of lobotomy at an astounding rate. As these institutes became increasingly overcrowded and full of understandably angry people, psychiatrists looked for ways to pacify them so that they could send them home. This included lobotomy and, later, the chemical lobotomy.

And how common was this? It certainly wasn't everyone, but it was more common than people think. I'm not going to quote the whole thing, but Wikipedia summarises it: approximately 40,000 cases in the US, 17,000 in the UK, and an estimated 4,500 in Sweden, mainly women and young children. Yes, children. In Japan, it was mostly used on children with "behaviour problems".

Would it happen to you today? Probably not, because society no longer sees lobotomy as a frontline treatment (though versions of it are still performed, such as bilateral cingulotomy, which is used for depression and OCD with predictably poor results). But the claim I've seen made is that "they would have lobotomised me in the 1940s" - which they very well might have, if you had family members who wanted you docile. It was by no means limited to the "most unwell", just as forced institutionalisation is still used today to punish and isolate people who threaten those in power. To say so does a huge disservice to the many, many people who were lobotomised for reasons of social control, and perpetuates the lie that psychiatric abuse only happens to those whose conditions "merit" it.

And I have to say, those jokes are part of what made me aware of that history. Which is a good thing, because the rights of women, queer people and those who oppose the state are rapidly being eroded again, all around the world. We can't allow ourselves to think that it could never happen to us.

Kinda pisses me off when people with even the mildest mental illnesses say "I can reclaim lobotomies cause it would have happened to me"

1. You can't reclaim a historical tragedy that did not happen to you but had real victims. As a lesbian I don't make jokes about forced conversion because real people experienced it and I didn't, and I don't find their pain funny.

2. Lobotomies were not that common, not every mentally ill person got one. It was forced upon the most unwell people living in the psychiatric hospitals. And fun fact, after the invention of antipsychotics, many long term psychiatric facilities closed down because so many people were able to live outside of them, and at the time the drugs were nicknamed "chemical lobotomies". Lobotomies were maiming and torture done to the most mentally disabled people to make them "easier to deal with", most of whom in those facilities were psychotic.

3. If such a tragedy were to be committed today it would be done to the people living in psychiatric hospitals today, not you.

4. It's not a joke, stop treating it like one, take the crimes committed to the most vulnerable mentally ill people seriously and show some goddamn respect for the victims.

[saatorus]

veiled reverence — r . sukuna

pairing — soulmate! heian era sukuna x reader

synopsis — you’re the last survivor of a village destroyed by sukuna, the king of curses. when your soulmate mark flares upon meeting him, you’re bound in a way you never expected. taken to his shrine, you’re forced to stay in his presence, where the weight of his past actions looms over both of you, and the line between survival and resentment blurs.

estimated wc — around 30k.. (forgive me)

full fic release date — end of june/early july

teaser wc — 647 words

taglist status — open

warnings — explicit sexual content, mentions of cannibalism, dead bodies, mentions of not eating, depression, some angst, sukuna ryomen (he needs his own warning), probably inaccurate portrayal of the heian era but i tried my best to research, will add more as i go along

In the Heian era, where fate wove itself into the fabric of existence, every soul was born with a mark—a silent promise etched into their skin. These marks, unique in shape and placement, remained dormant until the moment destiny called. When soulmates met, the mark would burn, igniting a bond deeper than mere mortal understanding. To find one’s soulmate was considered a divine blessing, a path to prosperity and harmony. To reject them was to defy the heavens themselves.

But fate was never kind.

And as Ryomen Sukuna stood amidst the ruins of a village he had torn apart, he never expected his own mark to sear with pain—nor to hear a scream that was not born of fear, but of something far worse. 

Recognition.

Clawed hands carelessly tossed the limp body aside, a dull thud swallowed by the crackling remains of the village. Blood still lingered on his tongue, warm and metallic, but it was not the taste that made Ryomen Sukuna freeze. It was the searing, agonizing burn on his ribs—the jagged, ink-black mark that had sat dormant for centuries now alight with a fire unlike anything he had ever known.

This could not be happening.

He was a curse. Yes, he bore a mark like all beings did, but soulmates were chosen by the heavens. The higher ones, in all their cruelty, had long abandoned him. Cursed beings were not meant to be loved. They were meant to wander, to ruin, to destroy. That was the law of the world. And yet—

Sukuna grunted, his four crimson eyes narrowing as the sensation pulled at him, an invisible thread winding tighter, dragging him forward. It was not a conscious choice—his body moved of its own accord, muscles tensing as something deep, something ancient, willed him to go toward.

The ground beneath his feet was littered with the remnants of what had once been a village, the stench of charred flesh thick in the air. A smoldering hut collapsed somewhere in the distance, its wooden beams snapping like brittle bones. Sukuna barely noticed. The burn along his ribs was growing worse, hotter than the flames he had set upon the village, hotter than hell itself.

Through the smoke and ruin, he saw it.

A figure, small against the backdrop of devastation, hunched over as though in pain. Her breathing was ragged, unsteady—alive, but barely.

Sukuna’s lip curled.

Impossible.

And yet, even as he sneered, even as his rational mind screamed at him to turn away, his feet carried him forward. 

It was as if the moment his eyes fell upon her, the searing pain along his ribs dulled—replaced not by relief, but by something far more unsettling. That strange, unseen force that had yanked him through the ruins, that had commanded his body to move without his consent, now seemed to settle, coiling around him like a vice. The angry burn of his soulmate mark, a fire that had threatened to consume him whole, now smoldered into a dull throb the closer he stood to her.

Ten feet. That was all that separated them.

Emotions stirred within him, a chaotic maelstrom that he could not name—because why should he feel anything at all? He was Ryomen Sukuna. He had scorched entire villages to the ground without a second thought, torn through flesh and bone with the same carelessness one might crush an insect beneath their heel. And yet, standing before this fragile, insignificant thing, something twisted inside of him.

Anger. That such a thing as soulmates dared to bind him, to claim him. That fate itself had the audacity to force this upon him.

Confusion. Because this should not be possible. Because curses were forsaken, meant to walk the earth unloved, untethered. Because he was Sukuna, and he had been told his existence was an affront to the heavens themselves.

Intrigue. Because she was not screaming anymore.

authors note — bro i actually wasn't gonna write up until like july/august because i'm in peak exam season rn (i'm literally posting this during my break from studying someone save me) but ANYWAYS!

i was innocently going through my docs to find these notes i took all the way back in like feburary and i come across this... half finished fanfiction of heian era sukuna i wrote, intending to post it on my old blog, and i see that i've written majority of it already? it was like winning the lottery... and so i was like ok why nawt post ts for all the lovely people who were begging me to write more of sukuna??? heh..

i'll try and portray him mean as possible in this but i need you guys to understand that i cant entirely portray him as his asshole canon self because of the soulmate au im writing him in and ugh you guys'll realise the more you read it but omg i need to stop blabbering rn and get back to work but YEAH haaaaahaaaaa ok bai.

love you all!

[dragoneyelashart]

back to friends

bsf! billie fluff, smut, angst ୨ৎ

a/n: based off of back to friends by sombr (it's been on repeat guys)

wc: 4.7k (i fear i wrote a lot)

the night is quiet  the kind of quiet that doesn’t just fill a room, but seeps into your skin. it settles low in your chest, soft and heavy, calming the noise in your head. outside, the city has dimmed into a distant hum, muffled by thick windows and the late hour. inside, everything feels suspended like time is holding its breath.

a movie plays on the screen, flickering in muted color. something you picked without thinking, half-heartedly scrolling until one of you said, “sure, that works.” neither of you really cared. the plot drifts in and out of your awareness, dialogue murmuring like background static. it’s not about the movie. it never was.

you’re stretched out on the couch, your body curved into hers like a question mark searching for its answer. billie’s arm is draped around your waist, her fingers resting light and warm against the thin fabric of your shirt. your legs are tangled beneath the throw blanket, soft and worn, the kind that smells faintly of her detergent and something deeply, unmistakably her.

the room glows dimly with the changing light from the tv. soft blues, silvers, the occasional flash of amber play across her face, casting gentle shadows on her cheekbones, the delicate hollow of her throat, the edge of her jaw. the light dances along the walls in slow, lazy waves, like water moving across a ceiling.

her house is quiet too. too big, too still when you’re alone. but with her, it feels full, like the space bends itself around the both of you. every creak in the floorboards, every distant shift of the pipes, every soft sigh of the heating vents sounds intentional, like the house is breathing alongside you.

you shift slightly and her hand moves with you, adjusting without thought. she doesn’t look away from the screen, but her thumb starts to trace slow, absent circles against your side, grounding you without a word.

your head is resting against her chest, and beneath the fabric of her shirt, you can hear her heartbeat, steady, slow, familiar. you weren’t looking for comfort, but here it is, quiet and effortless. something you didn’t realize you’d been aching for.

and for a little while, that’s all there is, the soft glow of the tv, the warmth of her beside you, and the steady hush of a night that feels like it was made just for the two of you.

you feel her fingers in your hair, slow and rhythmic. she’s not even looking at the screen anymore. neither are you, really. the movie is just background noise now. her touch, the warmth of her body, the hush between you, this is what you’ve come to rely on.

it’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep like this. not even the tenth.

but tonight, something feels different.

you don’t know when it starts exactly. one minute you’re dozing, barely clinging to consciousness, and the next, you feel her hand move. not abruptly. it’s not a sudden jolt or anything like that. just… a slow, deliberate shift.

her hand slides from your hair, down your back, tracing a path through the thin fabric of your shirt. you tense, but only slightly. it’s not out of place, not entirely. you’re used to her being affectionate. it’s always been that way with billie. touch was just part of how she spoke when words fell short.

still, something about this moment makes your breath catch.

her hand trails further, fingers ghosting over your waist, and then, after a beat, it comes to rest on your thigh. lightly. barely there.

you pretend not to notice.

you keep your eyes closed, your head on her chest, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat instead of the warmth of her palm on your skin. you wonder if she knows what she’s doing. if she feels the shift too, the quiet ache pulling the air tighter around you both.

her thumb strokes gently, once, over the bare skin beneath your sleep shorts. you swallow hard. you could move. say something. break the spell.

but you don’t.

because this is billie. your best friend. the person you trust more than anyone. the one who knows you better than you know yourself.

and it’s not like this is new. you’ve always been close. always lingered in each other’s spaces a little too long. touched a little too often. whispered secrets into each other’s skin when the world felt too loud.

but tonight, it feels like teetering on the edge of something you both promised never to name.

the movie flickers in front of you, forgotten. her hand is still on your thigh, unmoving now, like she’s waiting. testing. you wonder if she’s holding her breath, too. if her chest is as tight as yours.

you shift slightly, not away, never away, but enough that your leg brushes hers more fully. an invitation, or a question. you don’t even know.

her fingers tighten just barely.

you feel the answer in that.

the silence stretches. not awkward, never awkward with her, but loaded. charged.

you want to ask her what she’s thinking, but your lips won’t move. you want to say something stupid like, “what are we doing?” but you're afraid the words might unravel everything.

so you stay quiet. and so does she.

instead, you lift your head a little, just enough to glance at her.

her eyes are already on you.

she’s not smiling. not smirking. just watching you with this look that’s too tender, too knowing. like she sees every single thing you’re trying not to say.

your heart skips. her hand doesn’t move.

“are you still watching?” she asks, her voice a whisper against the noise of the film.

“no,” you say, barely louder, your voice slipping just a little bit.

she nods, once, like she expected that. her gaze flicks to your lips and back. you feel it like a spark down your spine.

you know this is the moment. that thin, trembling line between friendship and something else,  something you’ve both danced around for years.

she doesn’t lean in. she doesn’t kiss you. not yet.

instead, she looks at you like she’s waiting for permission. like she’s asking you without asking.

and you?

you give it.

your hand finds hers on your thigh, fingers brushing until they curl together, slow and deliberate. her touch is warm, a little unsure, but when you lace your fingers with hers, she doesn’t hesitate. it feels like anchoring, like you're both trying to hold onto something neither of you have words for yet.

she exhales, the sound slipping from her like it’s been sitting heavy on her chest for too long. it’s soft, somewhere between relief and confession.

“i don’t know what we’re doing,” she whispers, not looking at you. her voice is quiet, like it’s meant only for the space between your skin.

you squeeze her hand, your thumb tracing the back of hers. “me neither,” you say, just as softly.

but neither of you pull away.

minutes pass. or maybe longer. the movie fades into credits, then silence, and still, you’re wrapped around each other. her arms around your waist now, your body pressed into hers, legs tangled like roots, like if you let go, you might fall through the floor.

her breath is on your neck, warm and unsteady. when you shift slightly, your thigh brushes between hers, and she tenses, just barely. you feel it, the way her hand grips yours a little tighter, the way her lips part like she wants to say something but can’t quite.

you turn your head, slow, until your nose brushes against her cheek. her skin is warm. flushed.

“okay?” you murmur.

she nods. her eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, tentative, testing. she meets you there, softly, then again, a little deeper this time. the kiss is slow, careful, but there’s heat under it. like you’ve both been waiting for this, like something finally clicked into place.

her hands move, one slides up your back, the other finds your hip. your bodies shift, drawn together instinctively, and the blanket slips lower, forgotten. your fingers find the hem of her shirt, not pushing yet, just resting there, feeling the warm skin underneath. she breathes out against your lips, a shaky little sound that makes your stomach flip.

you pull back just enough to see her face. her pupils are blown wide, lips kiss-swollen. “you sure?” you ask again, because you need her to know she can stop this at any point.

she nods, then leans in, not with words, but with her mouth against yours, her body pressing closer. your hands move without thinking now, exploring in slow passes, learning the map of her like it’s something holy.

everything is unhurried. there’s no rush. just quiet sighs and soft gasps and the weight of want that’s been building for too long. clothes shift, skin meets skin in pieces, a shoulder exposed here, a bare stomach there. her fingers trail under your shirt, painting fire along your ribs.

and when she whispers your name, low and reverent, it doesn’t sound like lust. it sounds like home.

you don’t go further than this, not tonight. not all the way. but it’s enough, this closeness, this warmth, the way you’re both holding on like you finally know what you want, even if you still don’t know what to call it.

you can feel it. in your skin. in the way your heart beats when she shifts closer. in the way her lips brush your forehead like a promise.

you want to believe this is real. that this is the start of something you’ve both been waiting for, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

but part of you is scared.

because you know billie. you know how much she feels and how quickly she runs when it gets too big. too real.

still, in this moment, with her breath warm against your temple and her fingers laced with yours, you let yourself believe.

just for tonight.

you believe that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t just another one of those moments you’ll have to pretend didn’t mean anything.

the clock reads 2:41 am when you finally drift off.

the movie is long over. billie’s breathing is steady. her hand is still on your thigh, now relaxed and open. her body is curved around yours like a question you’re too afraid to answer.

years later the two of you take a trip together. just the two of you, no bodyguards, no unwanted photos. just you. hawaii feels like a dream.

it always does when you’re with her, sunlight skipping over ocean water, wind tangled in your hair, and billie beside you, her fingers laced with yours like they belong there. you came out here on a whim, a getaway from everything loud. from la. from the press. from the pressure. just the two of you and the kind of silence that doesn’t need filling.

you spent the day swimming in clear blue water and sharing shaved ice that melted too fast under the sun. you wore her hoodie over your swimsuit and she called you a thief but didn’t ask for it back. she never does. never did. 

now, it’s just the two of you on the beach. the sun is beginning to sink into the ocean, bleeding orange and pink into the horizon. billie sits beside you in the sand, knees pulled up, her chin resting on them. she's quiet. she’s been quiet all day.

you watch her out of the corner of your eye. there’s something in her face that you can’t name. not exactly sadness,but something close. like she’s carrying a weight she can’t set down.

"you're not watching the sunset," you say softly, bumping your shoulder into hers.

she huffs a little, but doesn't look at you. "i’ve seen a lot of sunsets."

you roll your eyes. "yeah, but this one’s with me."

that gets the tiniest smile out of her. barely there, but enough.

she finally turns to you. her hair's wind-blown and messy, cheeks slightly flushed from the sun, freckles dancing across her nose. you think she looks like summer incarnate. and maybe a little like heartbreak.

you reach out and brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. she leans into your touch.

“hey,” you say gently. “what’s going on in your pretty head?”

she hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. she does that when she's trying not to cry. you know her tells. you know all of them.

she doesn’t answer you. not directly.

instead, she shifts closer until your knees are touching and says, “i’m gonna marry you one day.”

you blink.

“what?”

she doesn’t smile when she says it again, slower this time: “i’m gonna marry you.”

it hits you like a wave.

you can’t breathe for a second. can’t think. she’s said tender things before, called you her person, told you she couldn’t live without you. but this… this is different. this is forever.

you search her face, but there’s something stormy in her eyes. something that doesn’t match the softness of her words.

you take her hand, fingers slotting into hers. she squeezes back immediately, like she needs it. like she might fall apart if you let go.

“okay,” you whisper. “then i’ll marry you back.”

that gets another tiny smile. but her eyes are glassy now, and when she blinks, you think you see tears.

you want to ask her what’s wrong. press her. pull it out of her.

but you don’t.

because part of you already knows.

you don’t know the details, don’t have the names or the timeline, but you can feel it in your gut. the way her mood shifted out of nowhere. the way she’s been checking her phone all day, then hiding the screen from you. the way her laugh sounded hollow at dinner, like she was playing the part of someone carefree.

still, you sit there with her, watching the sun disappear into the ocean, your hands interlaced.

she leans her head on your shoulder, and you feel her body exhale like it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to breathe.

“i don’t deserve you,” she whispers.

you turn toward her sharply. “don’t say that.”

she shakes her head, not meeting your eyes. “i don’t. i just… i wish you knew.”

“knew what?” you ask, voice barely above the wind.

she doesn’t answer. just keeps staring out at the water, like it holds some truth she can’t give you.

you let the silence grow between you for a few beats, then rest your head against hers.

“you don’t have to be perfect,” you say. “you just have to be real with me.”

she laughs, but it’s cracked and bitter. “that’s the problem.”

you don’t know what to do with that. it feels like something important, like a key she’s slipping into your hand without telling you which door it unlocks.

you press your lips to her temple. her skin is warm, and she smells like salt and sunscreen and billie.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” you whisper. “but when you’re ready… i’ll be here.”

her hand tightens around yours.

and still, she doesn’t speak.

it’s been two years since that sunset in hawaii.

two years of late nights and early mornings, of music and airports and whispered i love you’s when no one else was listening. two years of fighting sometimes, making up always, and building something that felt permanent in a world where nothing ever stayed.

the night she proposes, it’s raining in malibu. she gets down on one knee in the sand and asks if she can love you for the rest of her life.

you say yes.

always, yes.

you believe her.

you believe every word she said.

and the night before your wedding, you still believe her when she kisses your forehead and says she’s just going to the studio. her lips are soft, lingering for a second too long, like she's stalling, and her eyes are tired but calm. you smile up at her from the couch, legs tucked under a throw blanket, heart swelling with the kind of hope that feels too big to hold.

“don’t stay too late,” you whisper, and she promises, “i won’t.”

you believe her.

you believe her even when midnight turns to one, and one becomes two, and the shadows stretch long and thin across the living room walls. the candles you lit for no reason but comfort have long since burned out. your phone screen glows with unread messages you never sent.

you still believe her when you lie down on her side of the bed because it smells more like her, vanilla and musk, sharp and clean.

you believe her until it’s 3:30 a.m., and the lock hasn’t turned, and the hallway is still empty, and the silence is starting to feel like a warning. your eyes are blurry from not blinking enough. your body is exhausted, but your heart is wide awake.

and then her ipad lights up on the dresser.

a name you don’t recognize. not a contact. just a first name. just lowercase letters and a red heart next to them.

the message is short. casual. “same time next week?”

you don’t move.

you just stare at it, light burning your retinas, your breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

the clock ticks.

and for the first time, you stop believing her.

you read it again.

and again.

and when she finally comes home, twenty minutes too late, hair tousled and jacket half-off her shoulder, like she was in a rush to look undone, she freezes the second she sees you.

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, still in your robe, the light from her iPad glowing like a wound between your hands.

her mouth opens. her voice, hoarse, small, breaks the stillness like a match in a gas leak.

“i can explain.”

and maybe once, you would’ve let her.

but not now.

not after three missed calls. not after the ache of watching that message bubble appear and disappear and appear again. not after everything you sacrificed to believe in her.

you don't say a word.

you set the ipad down. quietly. like it’s made of glass.

and you get up and walk away.

because nothing she could say would ever make this right.

not the vows you spent months writing but never read aloud. not the wedding that never happens. not the dress still hanging in the corner of the room, ghost-white, untouched. not the way her sobs, syncopated, ragged, pleading, echo off the walls long after you’ve locked the bathroom door and collapsed to the cold tile floor.

you believed her.

and you were wrong.

because love doesn’t always make people good. and sometimes, even the softest hearts learn to close.

you sit with your back against the bathroom wall, knees pulled to your chest. the tile is cold against your spine, unforgiving. sterile. like a hospital room. like a morgue.

your hands tremble in your lap, useless.

you don’t cry. not right away.

grief is too patient for that. it wants you to notice everything first.

so you stare at the grout lines between the floor tiles. at the edge of the bath mat, frayed from her stepping on it every morning. at the sleeve of your robe where it bunches at your wrist. she used to kiss that spot. said you looked prettiest in the mornings. said a lot of things.

there’s a ringing in your ears. sharp. relentless. like the aftermath of an explosion, except no one heard the blast but you.

outside, she’s falling apart.

you can hear it. the sobs that start with a breath and end with a choke. the way she whispers your name like it’ll summon you. like prayer. like a confession.

and maybe hours ago, it would’ve cracked you open.

but now?

now it feels like someone else’s storm.

your eyes land on your ring. your fingers, without thinking, move to touch it. the metal feels heavier tonight. colder. like it knows what happened.

you twist it slowly. once. twice.

then you slide it off.

not in anger. not in rage.

just… quietly.

and you place it on the edge of the sink with both hands like you’re setting down a memory.

you don’t scream. you don’t throw anything. you don’t break.

you simply stop.

when you finally open the door, the house feels like it's holding its breath.

she’s sitting on the living room floor, right where she must’ve fallen. legs pulled up, arms hugging herself so tightly it looks like she’s trying to disappear inside her own skin. her cheeks are blotchy. her mascara is streaked in uneven rivers. she looks like she hasn’t taken a full breath since she walked in and saw you holding the truth.

when she looks up, it’s like she expects mercy.

but you have nothing left to give.

her voice is shattered. raw.

“i thought i could handle it. all of it. the pressure. the expectations. being someone you could rely on. i thought… if i could just feel something else for a second, it would go away.”

you stand there, watching her fold in on herself, and what rises in your chest isn’t rage.

it’s something worse.

pity.

not forgiveness. not sympathy. just the hollow ache of realizing the person you would’ve given your life to… couldn’t even stay loyal for one night.

you walk forward. slow. deliberate. you sit across from her on the floor. your knees nearly touch. she flinches at the closeness. maybe she expected you to scream. to leave. to stop loving her.

maybe she doesn’t know that you already did.

“what did you feel, billie?” you ask softly. “did it fix you? did it make you less afraid?”

she opens her mouth. nothing comes out.

you tilt your head, eyes burning, not with tears, but with truth.

“was i too real?” a whisper now. “too much of a promise you didn’t know how to keep?”

her whole face crumples.

you almost reach for her.

you don’t.

instead, you say what you didn’t know you had the strength to say:

“i would’ve loved you through anything. god, i did. but that’s not the question anymore, is it?”

she doesn’t answer. she just cries harder. as if tears could fix what choice destroyed.

you stare at her like she’s already gone. like you’re memorizing the end of the story.

"i don’t hate you," you whisper, barely audible. "but i can’t do this. i won’t."

and then you stand.

she doesn’t stop you. maybe she knows she can’tmaybe she knows that what she broke wasn't just your heart—it was the part of you that believed in forever.

you go into the bedroom. it smells like her. everything does. every drawer you open. every shirt you touch. it’s like she’s trying to haunt you before you’ve even left.

you pack slowly. deliberately. like if you don’t focus on folding every corner, you’ll fall apart.

you don’t touch the dress.

you don’t even look at it.

when the suitcase zips closed, it sounds like a door slamming shut.

the hallway outside your apartment feels like another world. too bright. too quiet. no one else knows the life you just left behind. no one knows you're walking out of what was supposed to be your future.

you don’t take the elevator.

you need the stairs. need the climb. need the breathlessness.

you need to feel the weight of every single step it takes to leave her behind.

when you push open the door to the street, dawn is just bleeding into the sky. soft pinks and oranges. the world looks like it’s beginning.

and you feel like you’re ending.

your phone vibrates in your pocket. you don’t check it.

you already know what it says. please don’t go. please come back. please let this be fixable.

but it’s not. not anymore.

because love that’s real doesn’t lie. doesn’t cheat. doesn’t come home at 3:30 a.m. and ask for grace without offering truth.

you hail a car. the driver asks where you’re headed.

you pause. for the first time all night, you breathe.

“anywhere but here.”

you hear her everywhere.

in the weeks that follow, it’s like the universe decides to become cruel. everything becomes her voice, her song, her name, said in passing, or echoing from open car windows, or bleeding out of café speakers like the world’s in on some inside joke you weren’t told.

at first, it’s a dull ache. background noise. white static at the edges of your day.

but then it’s worse.

her name pops up on someone’s instagram story. you scroll too fast and your thumb hits the volume button — suddenly her laugh is in your lap, in your hands, and your heart lurches like it still belongs to her.

you throw your phone across the bed and stare at the ceiling for an hour. your chest rising in shallow breaths. your hands gripping the sheets like you’re still trying to hold her down beside you.

you go days without leaving the apartment.

your friend tries her best. brings food. leaves water bottles around like you’re a ghost she’s trying to keep hydrated. you nod, and smile when you remember to. you say “i’m okay” more times than it feels real.

but you're not.

because nothing about this makes you feel okay.

one day, you’re in line at the grocery store, holding a box of cereal and oat milk like that’s all it takes to stay alive. you're barely functioning, sleep-deprived, wearing sunglasses inside because your eyes give you away too easily now.

you turn the corner, and nearly walk right into her.

your body freezes before your brain catches up.

she’s standing ten feet from you, next to the apples, hair pulled back into a loose bun, hoodie too big, headphones around her neck like always. she looks exactly the same, and completely different.

she doesn’t see you at first. she’s staring down at a green apple in her hand, thumb running slowly across the skin. for a second, something tightens in your chest, a memory so sharp it cuts before you can stop it:

her sitting on the kitchen counter, biting into an apple and grinning, juice running down her wrist. “you always make that face like it’s too loud,” she laughed once. “just eat the damn thing.”

your stomach flips.

you take a step back, too quickly. the cereal box almost slips from your hands.

and then she looks up.

and you swear time stutters.

her eyes land on you. and for a breath, just a single breath, everything in the world holds still.

you can’t move. can’t speak. can’t do anything but stand there, your ribs caught in a vise.

her lips part like she might say your name.

but she doesn’t.

she just blinks. adjusts her headphones. and turns away.

like you’re no one.

like you’re air.

like she didn’t once trace the lines of your spine with her fingertips while whispering i’ve never loved anyone like this before.

you stand there for a long time.

too long.

long enough for the woman behind you in line to sigh and mutter something under her breath. long enough for your fingers to go numb from how tightly you’re clutching the milk.

you make it to the checkout somehow. your voice cracks when you say “debit.” the cashier doesn’t look at you twice. she doesn’t know that your whole world just ended again, right between produce and self-checkout.

you walk home in silence, plastic bag swinging limply at your side. you don’t cry.

you’re too tired to cry.

later that night, lying on your side of a bed that now feels too wide, you whisper into the dark:

“how can you look at me like that?”

your voice doesn’t echo.

no one answers.

because she did. because she looked at you and pretended you were no one. like you hadn’t held each other in the quietest hours of the night. like you hadn’t learned every inch of her skin by heart. like you hadn’t given her every version of love you had, and then some. you wonder how two people can go from forever to strangers.

and you wonder why the world keeps turning like it didn’t just lose something sacred.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[p1astr81]

hi! can I request something similar to the last one you did about oscar and reader having intimacy issues but instead if you can do that she’s asexual but she’s keeping it from him bc she’s worried he’ll break up with her if he knows so she is just trying to hide it until he gets upset? tbh it’s my fear about dating so 😭 you can make it very angsty but a happy ending pleaseeeee!

I did some research before writing this, and discovered there’s different preferences. I wasn’t sure how to go about this so reader’s preferences are as follows: still likes to cuddle and kiss and stuff like that. Is fine with sex as long as there’s a warning in advance, but still doesn’t feel the desire.

(If there’s anything you’d like me to change, don’t hesitate to lmk!)

warnings: talk of sex, brief dry humping

Oscar was your first real relationship.

He was sweet, funny, kind, but had the sexual desires that you didn’t. It wasn’t a problem until well into your relationship.

“Hey baby,” he’d joined you on the living room sofa, his hand rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh. From the tone of his voice, you knew what he wanted.

It wasn’t the first time he’s tried to initiate something, and you’re certain it wouldn’t be the last. The script was always the same.

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” You confessed in a small voice, avoiding his eyes.

He withdrew his hand, setting it in his own lap. “Yeah. No, yeah. I’m sorry.” He lingered a moment longer before standing.

“Oscar?” You called, head propped on the back of the couch. He paused halfway down the hallway and looked back at you. “I love you.” You reassured.

He smiled, but it was small. “I love you, too.”

He was asleep.

You’d just woken up. You hadn’t understood why until you felt it.

In his sleep, his hips rolled into your thigh, clearly searching for a release from his dream.

Every fiber of your body was on fire, burning with discomfort. “Oscar,” you struggled to find your voice as you tried to push him away. He was like a boulder, refusing to budge. Tears pricked your eyes. You tried to roll away but his strong arms around your waist held you in place. “Oscar, please wake up.” You choked, managing to get a hand between you to push him by his chest. You were sobbing by this point.

You hadn’t meant to, but you hit him in the chest. A very hard blow. It knocked the air out of him, waking him up instantly.

He sat up to catch his breath, releasing you from his hold in the same move. You jumped up, scrambling to stand across the room. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry i didn’t mean to hit you.”

“What- baby what time is it?” He asked, trying to move closer to you. You stopped him with an open palm. “What happened?” He looked scared and concerned, searching your face for an answer.

You couldn’t answer, you just kept apologizing. Your back hit the wall and you slid down it, curing in on yourself as you hit the floor.

He came closer despite your held out hand. “Please talk to me.” He begged.

You couldn’t catch your breath. Your chest felt tight, your head and your body too heavy. The world around you blurred both visually and audibly.

A panic attack. He recognized it before you did. “Okay, uhm,” he tried to figure out how to calm you down without touching you. “You’ll be alright. This’ll pass.” He reassured. “Just focus on your breathing. Breathe with me, okay?”

With hand motions he took deep breaths. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” The first couple times, you hadn’t followed. He continued anyway, and eventually saw your attempts. “Good, yeah really good.”

When you were finally settled and the episode passed, he backed up. “I’m going to sleep in the guest bed. Stay here and get some sleep, okay?” He took himself to the door, refusing to step out until you were secure in the bed. He watched your languid movements. It was like your body weighed a thousand pounds. “I love you.” He told you before leaving.

The following morning was tense. Few words were exchanged during breakfast, and those that were remained short.

He approached you about it after breakfast, careful to keep his distance.

“What happened last night?” He asked softly. “I’m not upset I just want to know that you’re okay.” He added quickly.

You swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. “Promise me… promise me you won’t break up with me.”

“Why would I- of course I won’t. I promise.”

You fiddled with your hands, trying to find your words as the silence thickened by the second. “I’m asexual. Which means I don’t have any sexual attraction.”

Oscar tilted his head slowly, his brows furrowing.

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you it’s just… I don’t have the same sexual desires that you do.” You winced at the words coming from your own mouth.

He said nothing, trying to understand why you hadn’t told him sooner. Feeling guilty for making moves on you.

“And I don’t want to deprave you or anything. I can still have sex just… I’d need a warning in advance so I can prepare myself.” You chewed on your finger, afraid of his inevitable response.

Keeping his distance, he leaned against the nearest wall. “I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“I promise, as long as I’m warned I’m fine with it. I’ve had sex before.” You bit your lip. “I just probably won’t be as into it as you’d expect.”

“So is it just sex? Or does it include kissing and cuddling and everything else?”

“No, no. I still like those. It’s mainly just the sex part.”

He nodded and pushed off the wall. He lingered a moment longer and joined you on the couch. A beat passed of him staring at you before he wrapped his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His words were muffled into your shirt.

“I didn’t want you break up with me because I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”

He pulled back and held your face in his hands. “You’re what I want. That’s it.”

[smutmind]

Good Thing ft. Shuhua

idle x BWC

Alexei had imagined something quieter.

He’d come to Korea on an academic exchange, expecting long lectures, strict rules, buttoned-up uniforms. Hanyang’s campus was beautiful, yes—sleek and modern, stretched under blue skies—but it wasn’t the buildings that were throwing him off.

It was her.

Shuhua stood at the center of the courtyard like the rules bent around her. Blue sleeveless polo, skin-tight, hugging every curve like it was stitched to her chest. A navy tie dangled loose beneath the collar—half-uniform, half-attitude. And her shorts? If they were any smaller, they’d qualify as a crime scene. Long, dark hair framed her face like silk and shadow. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped off the steps.

“You’re the Russian, right?” she said, walking straight up to him like she’d already decided he was hers.

“Alexei,” he said. “First day.”

“I’m Shuhua. I’m supposed to guide you.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

She tilted her head. “Disappointed?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Just… surprised.”

“What, you were expecting a shy girl in a blazer?”

“Something like that.”

She grinned. “Sorry. They gave you me instead.”

Alexei glanced around. The other students moved in polite clumps—polished, quiet, careful. Shuhua stood out like a flare.

“You’re Taiwanese, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Born in Taipei, raised to misbehave. And you’re from?”

“Moscow.”

Shuhua raised a brow. “So you came here thinking Korea was gonna be conservative and tame.”

He smirked. “It was a theory.”

“And now you’ve got a guide who doesn’t believe in bras and thinks rules are optional.”

“You’re not what I expected.”

She stepped closer, brushing his arm with hers. “And you’re not as uptight as I thought a Russian would be.”

“I’m holding back.”

She leaned in, voice soft. “Don’t.”

Alexei watched her—the way she looked at him, no hesitation, no fear. He’d met girls who flirted. But none like this. None who played with tension like it was candy on her tongue.

“You’re dangerous,” he said.

“You’ve got no idea,” she whispered, glancing down between them. “That thing you’re packing in those jeans? I’ve been trying real hard not to stare all morning.”

He stared at her, stunned. “You noticed?”

She laughed. “Baby, I felt it when you hugged me hello.”

She reached for his hand and didn’t wait for permission. Pulled him around the edge of the library building, behind the hedges and out of sight. Her hair caught the sunlight, jet-black with a halo glow. Her voice stayed low, electric.

“You ever get sucked off by your ‘guide’ on the first day of orientation?”

“No,” he said, heartbeat thudding. “Not even close.”

Shuhua dropped to her knees, all smile and heat. “Welcome to Hanyang.”

She undid his jeans with quick fingers, pulling him out, eyes widening.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Is this, like, standard issue in Russia?”

She knelt in the grass, eyes on Alexei’s cock like she’d been starving for it. Her tiny denim shorts were already tugged down to mid-thigh, her blue polo pulled just enough to frame the swell of her tits. The summer heat wrapped around them, thick and still, but she didn’t seem to feel it.

He was half-dressed—T-shirt tossed nearby, jeans open, cock thick and flushed in her hand.

“You’ve been walking around like this all week?” she whispered, stroking him slowly. “No wonder you didn’t talk much.”

Alexei’s hand found her hair, not guiding, just there. “You’re trouble.”

She grinned, then sank her mouth onto him—wet, slow, tongue swirling with practiced ease. Her spit made everything slick, shining. She bobbed her head, moaning softly as she took him deeper, hand pumping where her lips couldn’t reach.

He groaned. “Fuck, Shuhua…”

She pulled off just long enough to whisper, “Come on, baby. Let me hear it in Russian.”

His voice cracked. “Ты с ума сводишь…”

She smiled around him, sucked harder, faster—spit dripping from her chin, eyes gleaming. When he twitched too close, she pulled back and stood.

“Not yet,” she said, turning around and pushing down her shorts. “I want to feel that monster inside.”

She bent forward, ass high, bare and golden in the sun. He lined up behind her and slid in with a growl—deep, slow, unforgiving.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “You’re splitting me open.”

His hips slapped against her, building a rhythm that shook her legs. Her blue polo was bunched up around her ribs, tits swinging freely beneath her. Every thrust made her gasp, every grind pulled another moan from her lips.

“You’re so deep,” she choked out. “It’s too good—fuck, I can’t—”

Alexei gripped her hips tight, then pulled out.

“Sit,” he said roughly, falling back on the grass.

She turned, dazed, and straddled his thighs—back to chest. He pulled her down on his cock again, this time with her facing away, legs wide over his.

The stretch made her shake.

“Oh—fuck—Alexei—” she cried, hands on his thighs for balance.

He slid a hand up to her tits, squeezing them as his other teased her clit. His mouth brushed her shoulder, kissing, biting softly as she trembled in his lap.

“I’m gonna—shit—I’m—”

She squirted with a ragged cry, soaking both of them, her whole body convulsing as he kept thrusting up into her.

She barely caught her breath before spinning around, straddling him face to face. Her thighs were slick, her eyes wild.

“Now,” she panted. “I want it all.”

She rode him deep and slow at first, then harder—grinding, bouncing, her tits brushing his chest with every movement. He grabbed her ass, helped guide her rhythm, his face buried in her neck.

Their bodies slapped together, soaked and breathless.

“I’m close,” he groaned.

She kissed him, panting, “Do it. Come for me. Fill me up.”

Alexei let go with a shudder, hips locked, groaning deep into her mouth as he spilled inside her.

Shuhua slowed, still grinding, riding him through the last of it.

When she finally stopped, she rested her forehead to his, breath ragged.

“Yeah,” she whispered, grinning. “You’re definitely not going back to Russia the same.”

[radio-fmm]

I hate cigarettes

Zoro x fem!reader

Just a sweet love confession

The air carried the ocean’s salt, mingling with the taste of tabaco form the cigarette between your lips. You hate smoking, you’ve never even craved one, still you hold onto it in an attempt to ground yourself, in hopes it’ll take away your thoughts with the smoke.

You hear footsteps, steady and hauntingly familiar that make you stiff. Zoro’s presence usually was comforting, like you knew nothing bad could happen around him, but lately it had the power to awaken a storm between you, making you stumble, hesitate, weak.

“Isn’t that supposed to calm you down?” He motions to the burning cigarette you still hold onto your dear life, shaking

“That’s what Sanji says… starting to believe he made it up”

Zoro hisses his teeth

You stomp on the cigarette and look back at the kitchens window, alive with your crewmates having dinner. Usopp renacts the fight he had earlier today as everyone laughs around the table, Luffy steals one of Nami’s grapes on her salad making Sanji kick him in the head

You smile

But your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like it’s supposed to, or at least that’s what Zoro notes. Lately you’ve been quieter, making yourself smaller around the swordsman, and he just can’t figure out why and it’s driving him insane

Because you are the opposite

When Zoro first met you he didn’t pay you any mind as he always does, but your apparently quiet nature made him gravitate towards your space because he felt at ease. After a while it turns out you weren’t exactly the quiet kind, trust granted him access to a new part of you, the real you. You were silly, obnoxious with the right people around, like the sun rising after a cold quiet night. You were loud when excited but quiet when you felt not so needed

That’s why your silence alarmed him, because it meant you weren’t comfortable and the thought of you not feeling anything close to safe around him was unnameable, even if Zoro was too shy to accept it he always searched for your approval and ‘need’– He wanted you to need him close.

It’s hilarious really, both of you are driving each other insane and you are oblivious about it. You are aware that what you’re doing it’s childish, but that feeling in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart that wears you down every time you see the swordsman is something you fear. You know you love him, you’ve always been someone really self aware but that doesn’t make it any easier, you don’t want to mess this up, you wouldn’t be able to keep living if that ever happened. It’s tearing you apart, and Zoro just stands there and lets it all happen like right now, because he doesn’t really know what to say or do

What a sad combination

Something the swordsman however, doesn’t get a lot of credit for it’s his emotional intelligence, this– mingling with a sixth sense when it comes to all matters you cancelled out his shy nature

So that’s how now he scoots over to you on the railing, steady but soft as if to not scare you more

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

His voice it’s a little stern but careful, you look over and you know you can’t scape it, your heart speeds up making everything hazy.

You stand defeated, still no answer as it hangs on the tip of your tongue, afraid but eager.

“Don’t have another option do I?” He chuckles, a little sinister but affectionately, he likes being known by you. You used to be that way too, before your insecurities sabotaged you

“It’s not that big of a deal”

“If it has you sulking it cannot be nothing”

“I’m not sulking”

“You are”

“Am not”

“You, are stalling”

You glare, without any bite to it. He glares back standing on business

“It has nothing to do with you Zoro, I just… am too afraid to face something”

His eyes never leave you as he sits with your words for a minute, before answering without an ounce of hesitation in his tone

“You’re brave and smart, I’m sure you can figure it out yourself. But, if you need any help you know you can always count on me”

Now you feel a little bad. His compliment craves itself into your heart and his desperation to keep you close maddening. It’s both unlike him but also so true to himself

The torture wasn’t gonna take you anywhere, it was just going hurt forever until it becomes painful to even wake in the morning to see your swordsman lay with someone else

“I hate cigarettes” you state with a painful sigh

Zoro crooks his brow and scowls confused

“Then why-“

“and you, Zoro?”

He blinks, a hand runs trough his green hair a little desperate. He had a whole speech prepared but he underestimated your ability to rant about whatever you wanted

“I don’t care ab-“

At the end of the day what is love but the soul naked? Better a love unrequited than a love never spoken

In an instant, you take advantage of his brain short circuiting to crash your lips into his. It’s desperate and almost pleading, you stand on your tiptoes and latch your hands onto his shirt, afraid to let go and have to see his face with horror etched onto it. Zoro for the second time in his life, stumbles– he is losing his mind, baffled but also thankful. The feeling of your lips in his just feels right

His hands move on their own accord, one falling onto your hip the other holding the back of your head to lock your face in his rougher

He’s hungry for it, like after a long day of training he gets to have dessert.

You shake in his hold but he catches you– every time

You end the kiss to take in a long breath, you find his eyes already on you and a smirk forming on his red lips

“So, that’s what’s up?” He teases and you try to scape his unrelenting hold but of course fail

“Don’t be mean”

“Am not”

“Zoro”

You stand there, soul bare and he can’t really name the feeling that blooms form his heart. It’s all consuming, addicting and sugar sweet, something he never thought would find at least in this lifetime, not for him to hold with his calloused hands

He says your name back like a promise and kisses your hand to lock it in

“Don’t ever dim your light for me again”

You smile and kiss him silly again

Masterlist