#and whenever I do that I get light headed

[lymtw]

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

-

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

[swordgrace]

𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 — john walker

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: john walker smut with "im serious, right here, right now (from reader)" prompt!! myb make it semi-public

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), porn with little plot, jealous john, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, dirty talk, making out, biting, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex.

[ 4K CELEBRATION. — PROMPT LIST. ]

John’s been watching you for the last hour.

Hooded blues have followed your movements throughout the gala event, narrowing whenever someone got too close or you laughed at a senator’s joke.

He isn’t as talented at masking emotions as he thinks he is, jaw clenched hands shoved into the pockets of his suit.

It’s tailored, Armani; Valentina was all about optics, about appearing marketable to those interested.

His blazer fits too snugly through the shoulders, crisp, white dress shirt tight over his musculature. There’s a sour look on his face, wanting to be anywhere else.

The last time he remembered wearing something like this was high school prom.

Being stripped of all military credibility and his rank had put a foul taste in his mouth. He used to be excited about the premise of rubbing elbows with politicians, but now, it only embittered him.

You were in your element; visibly, anyway.

The bright, sunshiny disposition you wielded seemed to magnetize any who stood around you, John included. As you chatted with shareholders, you had some light about you.

A begrudging sigh pushed through his nose, blonde brows pinched together as he took a swig of his champagne.

It was difficult to remain hushed about your relationship, especially being scrutinized beneath the public eye. John wilted when faced with backlash, and he didn’t want to subject you to it, either.

He played watchdog for a majority of the evening, keeping an eye on you from afar, watching as you entertained investors and representatives.

When you finally broke away to get yourself something to drink, John followed, mirroring your movements as the both of you arrived at a polished table.

Hundreds of glasses of champagne and vermouth sat on top of a pale tablecloth, pink-and-cream liquid fizzing at the top.

“I think I’ve had enough socializing for tonight,” You mumble, discarding your empty glass amongst the rest, rubbing a hand against your forearm. “How are you holding up?”

John hovers, perhaps too close to be considered strictly neutral. He’d played the indifferent role well whenever you were in public, but tonight, he wanted something else, something more.

“Suit’s too tight,” He grouses, scratching over his jaw, covered in a scruff of strawberry-blonde. “I don’t like being paraded around like a goddamned show-pony.”

That’s what he was when he was Captain America — a government weapon dressed in spangled colors like a mascot, living by their mandates.

Agitation ticks up in his voice as he shakes his head, and the temptation to grab another glass of champagne is present.

The strain of irritation laced like venom in his tone, and you feel yourself becoming concerned. “Do you want to take a walk? There’s an exhibit upstairs.”

His chest heaves with a tired sigh, and he nods, conceding to you with a threadbare smile. “Yeah,” John turns apologetic. “Sorry, this is just … It’s ridiculous.” He murmurs.

“That’s alright,” With a reassuring smile, you gently skim your fingers over the back of his bicep, the gesture fleeting. “I’ve been wanting to see you.”

John perks up when you mention wanting to see him; maybe preens, too. He used to despise how easily he fell for you, feeling entirely undeserving of it, and he still does — not as much anymore.

“Hm,” There’s a low warmth to his grunt, and he leans inward, catching a whiff of your perfume. It’s the one he’s complimented you on before. “Aren’t you sweet?”

Departing from the table, the both of you make your way toward the grand staircase at the back of the ballroom, weaving through patrons.

One of the senators calls after you, but you pretend not to hear, side-by-side with John as you grace the steps. The heels of your stilettos click over marble, and you catch him staring.

He’s been staring all night like a man who’s walking the thin line of restraint.

Sage satin clings to your frame, and the gown you’re wearing is nothing short of simplistically beautiful. Despite Val’s insistence to wear something flashy, you don’t; it’s better that way.

John’s gaze carefully traces over your frame for the hundredth time that evening, hand briefly hovering over the small of your back.

The pavilion upstairs houses a humble art gallery that has seen better days, no longer the primary attraction of the venue. Though, it’s significantly quieter, voices drowning into mere background static.

An open archway serves as the frame for the gallery, strewn with several pieces of artwork, some contained behind glass panes. The walls are smooth, lit in a low, golden glow.

When you’re both out of-sight, tension unfurls from his shoulders, bleeds away as if it’s been cut from him like a wound. In private glimpses, he seems to soften around you.

“You look handsome,” It’d left your mouth before you left for the gala, but you make sure to remind him. “The suit highlights your shoulders, even if it’s too tight.” You smile.

John scoffs, mouth curling into a sardonic smirk, standing close beside you in the middle of the room. The hush clears his head, but the thoughts are a farcry from wholesome.

He’s thinking about you; you in that dress, with a wide beam and an ethereal glow about you, as if you’ve been touched by sunset.

“Haven’t worn a suit since prom.” He admits, and the sentiment is somewhat cute, especially for you. His vulnerability only slips through the cracks in private moments.

“Really? You should wear them more often,” You pause, deciding on how best to broach your question. “Didn’t wear one at your wedding?”

Expecting a streak of bitterness, John surprises you by being open about the ordeal. His divorce still hurts, but it’s something he’s worked through. “No,” He laughs dryly. “Too broke. I wore jeans.”

Amused, a glitter reaches your gaze, warm and saccharine, a look of fondness that he clings to. It’s that shred of affection he wants desperately; he only wants it from you.

“I can’t remember the last time I wore something this beautiful,” With a shrug, you smooth your hands over the bodice. “If I ever did.”

“You’re the prettiest thing in the room,” John murmurs, jaw tightening. “Only one worth looking at.” His tone drops, palm steady over the small of your back.

“John …” Smitten, you’re mesmerized by his boldness, throat tight as he draws you closer. It’s as if his restraint snaps then and there, already frayed to begin with.

“Jesus, you’ve been torturing me all night.” He gruffs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. Even if he can kiss you a few times, that’ll be enough to satisfy him until you’re back at the Watchtower.

A low, excitable exhale rushes from your mouth, lips parted as your hands grab at the front of his blazer. He kisses over your throat, taller frame caging you in against his musculature.

“That wasn’t the goal,” Little more than a content utterance, your voice hums low, savoring the feeling of his lips scraping across your neck. “Whatever’s gotten into you, I like it.”

“Couldn’t take my eyes off of you, sweetheart.” The strained, needy sound he makes catches you off-guard, heightening the spike of want in your belly.

Part of you is wanting to finish this back at the Tower — until you aren’t, and a lascivious fantasy soon blossoms within your mind. It’s reckless, but the feeling it gives doesn’t go away.

Mouths meet in a heated collision, bruising enough to pull a grunt from his lips, and a soft moan from yours. His hands steady over your hips, gripping you with urgency.

He’s half-carrying you, hoisting you an inch or two higher, kissing you again and again. Your hands hold tightly to his suit jacket, lungs stinging with excitement.

Wordlessly, the both of you are walking sideways toward the nearest wall, and he doesn’t intend for it to become so heated; it just does.

Your hands lock over the nape of his neck, beginning to trail through blonde tresses, bodies wedged together. Each kiss sends you reeling, but you don’t recoil, reciprocating with enthusiasm.

The kiss is an unbridled thing, smoldering with a mutual want. He kisses you as if you might cease to exist, hands roaming your hips, anchoring your body to his.

John begins to slow to a crawl, lips tugging into a smirk, but your insistence starts to bleed through.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper, pupils dilated and tone stretched thin with desire, the cool marble kissing your spine.

“You want everybody to know what we’re up to?” He murmurs, kissing a steady, passionate trail across the side of your face. It’s teasing, but he realizes that you’re genuine with your question.

“Maybe I do,” When it slips past your mouth, John feels a spike of excitement strike at his gut. It’s white-hot and primal, as if you’ve flipped a switch. “I want you, John.”

Something raw and wanting blisters through him, scorching his bones like a wildfire. Resolve slips, already threadbare, and he grabs you tight, his hold ironclad.

“You really want this?” He rasps, as if something inside of him is actively waging war. God, he wants you — wants to fuck you rough and lose himself in you.

“I’m serious — right here, right now,” The insistence and urgency within your cadence conveys everything that he needs to know, lips parting to make room for a gasp. “Please.”

Mouths connect with a gnawing hunger, a knot of teeth and tongue, lips clamoring as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, teasing him further.

“Pull your dress up.”

John’s growl sends shivers down your spine, rough and commanding, as if time is of the essence. You’ve already been gone long enough for it to warrant some attention.

Scrambling to act, you’re grabbing at the train of satin, wrestling with it as you bunch it into eager fistfuls. Labored breaths and excitable sighs serve as idle ambiance.

He can barely focus, hungry and wanton, hands flying to unclasp the buckle of his belt. Every kiss is a collision — teeth, tongue, lips, and then the cycle repeats itself.

As you hitch your dress up around your hips, his hand follows, calloused as his digits push past the waistband of your panties.

You’re wet, and he stifles a noise at the sensation, parting your legs with his thigh. He’s much bigger than you — more muscle, more man, more to grab onto.

John gazes at you through eclipsed hues and half-lidded lashes, incendiary enough to burn a hole straight through you. Fingers slide over your pussy, momentarily grazing your clit.

“Shit,” You choke, hips jolting into the friction instantaneously. “John, please, please just fuck me.” The sound of your borderline plea clouds every rational thought he might’ve had.

“Want it that bad, huh? Don’t want my fingers, sweetheart? Just my cock?” He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but it’s shadowed and lascivious; he wants you.

“Yes, yes —please!” With a whine, you watch with doe-like eyes as he nearly rips at his pants, body flush against yours, adjusting your legs. He bites at the juncture between your throat and shoulder.

A low grunt tears through his throat, lips hotly sealing themselves to your neck, sucking a bruising hickey into the sensitive flesh.

It earns him a pretty moan from your mouth. The hot swell of his cock soon presses into your navel, incessant and throbbing.

“Jesus, you’re killin’ me.” He gruffs beside your ear, breathing hot, nostrils flaring like a bull. One hand grabs your thigh, the other steadying over your hip to keep you afloat.

Restraint crumbles completely, dissolving as the flushed head of his cock bullies past your folds. He’s quick about it, knowing that your time is limited.

With a brusque snap of his hips, he buries his cock into your pussy, a guttural groan escaping his mouth. It’s smothered into your throat, faces pressed close together.

All it would take is for one person to come strolling up here — neither of you were subtle.

He fucks you so well, pouring all of his built-up tension into every thrust of his hips. John isn’t cruel, but he isn’t sluggish this time, cock nearly kissing your cervix.

A string of muffled growls plume over your flesh, and he kisses at your jaw, beard scratching ragged across your skin. You cling to him, legs parted, hand fisitng into his shoulder.

The pace he sets is quick, needy, desperate; he’s all bite and no bark, shuddering at the feeling of your cunt, tight and clenched around him.

“You asked for this, and now you’re shy,” John grouses, teeth snagging against the spot beneath your jawline. “Talk to me.”

Each brutal thrust of his hips sends his cock deeper, fucking into you like a battering ram, chasing after a release. He’s actively trying not to fall apart, too.

“Need you so bad,” It’s instinctive, the way your voice hums to life when he’s fucking you raw, pitched with want. “S—Shit, you fuck me so well, John.” You moan, and he nearly gasps.

He drives you into the wall with each urge of his hips, cock kissing your walls, filling your pussy with him. The hint of praise only spurs him on, hands holding you tight.

John’s head rolls forward, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded, loosing a primal groan that makes your cunt clench around him.

Each slap of his cock lewdly urges against your slick cunt, arousal thick and honeyed around him, making everything easier.

The hum of patrons and shareholders drones on somewhere beyond the door frame, and fortunately, there aren’t any footsteps nearby. It’s just you and him, fucking against a wall.

“Fuck, you’re mine,” John grits out, grasp hard enough to leave bruises, but you don’t care. He fills the void inside of you, hammering away at your aching pussy. “My girl.”

“M’yours, yours.” You pant, wound-up and coiled, feeling that ball of heat threaten to burst within your abdomen. Bliss curls over your bones, slithering through, ceaseless and burning.

He’s fucking you as if it’s the last thing he’ll do, grunts resonating beside your ear, breath hot as it tickles the nape of your neck.

Lewd, crass noises fill the space between bodies, perspiration lingering over your spine, even when wedged against the wall. You’re scratching at his shoulders even still, mouth agape and eyes closed.

Scarlet clings to John’s features, handsome and pink, jaw strained as if something might shatter. He’s rutting into you as if he might come apart, his sounds borderline animalistic.

His cock throbs, pulses desperately inside of you, and it’s heightened when your cunt clenches around him again. Every little sensation sends him into a near-frenzy.

“Don’t stop, I’m — Mm, almost there,” With a whimper, you let him take what he needs, and he’s pistoning into you like a man starved. “Fuck, keep going.”

John nods, knowing he’s on the verge of crumbling, hips snapping — it’s a vigorous push and pull, quick, desperate, and feral.

As his cock pounds lewdly into your pussy, you use his tie to tug him in for a wet kiss, mouths molding together. It’s all heat and want, pulling a strangled grunt from his chest.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” John rasps, throat thick with desire, coarse as he feels himself slipping over the edge. “Perfect like this.” He grits, cadence husky and low.

Another moan leaves you, and he fucks you hard, right into that spot that makes you writhe. It’s an instantaneous wave of bliss that takes you, and you squeeze around his cock again.

“Fuck, I can’t — Shit, honey …” There isn’t any warning, but you don’t care in the slightest. He shudders, face pressed into yours, fucking you full of his cum.

Warmth floods your insides, veins simmering with liquid fire as it washes over the both of you, white-hot and consuming.

It almost makes you dizzy, head spinning, brain dissolving into a mess of static. The hum persists even after you cum, clenching around his cock, leaving you feeling dazed.

He knows he’s disheveled, but he doesn’t care.

Blue eyes snare on you, on the blissed-out look in your tender gaze, the smitten smile you wear as if you didn’t ask him to fuck your brains out against the wall.

John’s tangled within your beauty, in the way you bask so effortlessly in the afterglow, features illuminated by crystalline colors. He exhales, low and drawn-out, almost in disbelief.

The both of you are panting, ragged as if you’ve just run a marathon, but he’s never felt better. There’s a contentment he feels afterwards; happiness.

When he pulls out of you, it’s sticky and warm, coating the insides of your thighs, over your cunt as you awkwardly tug your panties up.

Hurriedly, you attempt to fix your hair and smooth your dress back into place, but anyone with eyes can tell that you’ve been up to debauchery. John’s smirking, seemingly nonchalant.

“How do I look?” You murmur, visibly flustered as he plants a kiss against your brow, playfully pinching at your hip. You smile despite yourself, thighs still shaking like leaves.

“Like I might have to carry you out of here.”

[haostea]

enhypen bf headcanons

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: enhypen members as boyfriends

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ heeseung

you guys are practically married at this point, like you guys have your routine down, and it's the cutest most domestic thing ever

he's actually adorable, he would care about you so much!

i feel like he is a great listener, so he would always be there when you need to vent, and he would give good advice after

not that much into pda, but he wouldn't mind a quick hug or holding hands, in private i could see him inviting you to sit on his lap a lot, especially when he's gaming

speaking of gaming, he would love it if you played with him

he gets so giddy around you, immediately lights up every time you walk into a room

i think he would be shy to sing to you, or show you lyrics that he wrote about you

but the more you tell him you love it the more you catch him telling you he what he has been up to and wants to hear your thoughts

one his main love languages seems to be quality time, so you just being in the same room as him doing your own thing makes him really happy

he also expresses his love for you in his writing where he'll write some cheesy lyrics and cringe, but if you tell him how much you love it he will write even more

would absolutely love if you pulled him up to dance, especially when you start singing he would start singing too

the more times you do this the more he'll get comfortable dancing and singing around you, to the point where he's serenading you around the house, and pulling you up to dance all the time

overall 10/10 bf

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jay

will always be hovering over you, not in a bad way, but in more of a protective way as he wants to make sure that you are okay

speaking of making sure that you are okay, he is for sure a caretaker

thinks that you are absolutely adorable, and only wants the best for you

you are always his first priority, no matter how busy he will always make time for you

and even when he can't physically be there, he is always calling and texting you little reminders to eat, take a break, sleep

he would also make food ahead of time, so you can just take it out of the fridge/freezer and heat it up

he treats you with such softness, where he would be extremely gentle with you, as he wants to make sure you can always go to him no matter what

also such a gentleman, would drive you anywhere, constantly hold doors open for you, carry your bags, and also open things for you

not because you can't do it, but why should you have to if he's right there?

he genuinely would put so much time and effort into your relationship, and he would make sure that you never go to bed mad

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jake

he's such a cutie pie omg, he's the definition of head over heals

at this point you don't have a name, you are known as darling, sweetie, sweetheart, love, etc. because jake will literally call you every one of them under the sun

his pupils turn into hearts whenever your around, he literally lights up when you walk into a room, like one would think he ate the sun

doesn't even care that he's a "simp" according to ni-ki because he knows he is, i mean haven't you seen yourself? of course he is

he LOVES cuddles, like good luck trying to get up in the morning, this man will not let go

his accent is so cute, so obviously one would only want him to speak in english, and if you also speak english you guys would frequently have conversations in english

but if you don't he would love to teach you, he thinks it's adorable, and feels so special that you want him to teach you

layla would love you, his camera pretty much only consists of you two, and when you guys are together he is taking thousands of photos, because layla and you in the same picture? omg it's the most perfect thing

such a gentleman, loves kissing your hand, giving you his jacket, opening doors, holding bags for you, etc.

his dream is to definitely travel with you and take you to austrailia

would be so happy if you brought him to meet your family, or bring him to wherever you grew up/where your from

actually husband material

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥sunghoon

this man is aggressively endearing?

he will make sure that you eat and are okay

like he will force you to eat if you haven't and it's sweet because he is not afraid to spoon feed you if he has to

this relationship if definitely private, i could not see him wanting a public one

he's also very awkward, especially when you first started dating, he would be fidgeting and looking anywhere besides you because you're just so pretty and cool

overtime it's gotten better, but there are still occasions that make him blush and try to hide his face

he loves teasing you, which can be annoying, but he will never make you uncomfortable or go past your limit

very good with boundaries and will never pass them once they are set, unless you say otherwise

because he does love you so much and would never want you to hate him, so he knows when to back off

he knows when to be more serious and intimate, but it really only occurs in private in the privacy of your home where he can feel vulnerable

he does truly love you, it just takes him a little while to fully embody it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ sunoo

he's the cutest and sweetest

so so so gentle with you, to the point where you think he's holding a piece of glass

loves holding your face and giving you kisses, and would love it if you would do it back as well

you're definitely his first priority over his members, like if you needed him for something he would drop whatever he was doing and go to you

loves receiving gifts and acts of service from you, like if you folded his clothes or bought him a new shirt, he is literally on the ground confessing his love for you and how you didn't need to do that

plans out dates and events to the last detail, he will not have anything go wrong, everything will be just how he planned

and since he only thinks you deserve the best he would go all out, buying balloons, bouquets, stuffed animals, even buying you an outfit

don't forget that there are of course going to be handwritten letters, that are at least a page because he could go on and on about how much he loves you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jungwon

such a sweetie

would be such a gentleman, where he would kneel down to tie your shoes for you, or would full on give you his shoes if it hurts to walk in yours

along with the headcanon above piggyback rides are also very frequent, not just because your feet hurt, but because he just thinks it's fun

would quite literally remember everything, like one day your walking through the mall and mention you liked a shirt, then its showing up on your bed the next day with a little love letter?

loves loves loves seeing you smile and laugh, would for sure do anything to see and hear it

he would love to just lay down in your lap and have you play with his hair, he thinks it's so relaxing and calming

i feel like he would act like he doesn't like physical affection, like kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair but he's lying, he does love it, just maybe not in public

i see him wanting a more private relationship just because he wants to keep you away from all of the hate and toxicity

overall very fun and loving, and he loves you to bits

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ ni-ki

this relationship is actually the best thing ever

it's such a young adult romance, where it's so playful and unserious, but you both know that you love each other so much

if your relationship was described it would be summed up with: teasing, playful, adorable, fun, loving

he would take you on such fun dates, like you really have no idea where he could take you, it could be to an aquarium, concert, café, amusement park etc.

i could also see him liking to stay home and just do an at home picnic type date just because it's a lot more intimate and would still be playful and fun

he would love dancing with you, especially teaching you new choreography, and if your a dancer too you guys would be constantly be making tiktoks together

we all know he tries to be nonchalant, but it's all a façade

he loves attention, especially from you, like i can stress how much he loves cuddles

and he is obsessed with you playing with his hair, like you'd be constantly find yourself sitting on the couch and he would be on the floor with you playing with his hair

would need someone who could match his energy, like when his is high you should be able to match it, because i feel like your relationship would originate from that

he does love you so bad, he really is such a golden retriever bf even if he may not let it out into the public, but in private that's your baby

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ

[asiatic-apple]

Love your writing! Thank you for taking requests.

I would absolutely adore fluff promp 6 with Zayne and female MC. Imaging them at maybe Dr Noah’s place in Snowcrest? Or anywhere where you prefer it :)

Thank you so much, lovely!! I'm still getting used to writing for Zayne, but I hope this is to your liking 💙 and I apologize for the long wait

Late night warmth

Zayne x female reader

Prompt: it’s freezing cold and they can’t figure out how to turn on the heat; they’ll just have to share the bed to stay warm then

Content: tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, cuddling

Dr. Noah’s house is quiet this late at night. Snowcrest’s frigid winds push softly against the windows, but inside, everything is still. The wooden floorboards creak as you pad down the hall, half-asleep, rubbing your arms to ward off the cold.

The thermostat near the kitchen hasn’t responded to anything you tried. Dr. Noah warned you the heating system could be stubborn this time of year, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

You could go back to your room and try huddling up in the blankets. But there’s another, more tempting solution. When you glance down the dark hallway, you catch the faint glow of warm light beneath the other guest bedroom’s door. The one Zayne is staying in.

He’s still awake, it seems.

Waddling over to the door, you knock gently and whisper, “Zayne?”

A pause. Then, “Yeah.”

You crack the door open. He’s sitting upright in bed with the duvet tucked around his shoulders a bit comically and a datapad resting on his lap. The blue glow from the screen highlights the tiredness in his eyes. But there’s also a hint of amusement in them; he doesn’t look surprised to see you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

“Not in that room,” you say, stepping in and closing the door behind you. “It’s freezing in there.”

He hums in understanding—although you both ignore the fact that your excuse doesn’t make much sense since it’s freezing everywhere in this house.

You see him shift slightly beneath the covers, a subtle motion. As if he’s making space for you.

You glance down at the bed, then back at him. “Is your bed warm?”

He meets your eyes for a beat. To anyone else, they’d only see that calm, unreadable expression of his. But you notice the glint of playful teasing behind his wire-frame glasses.

“A little,” he says. “Blankets help.”

You stand there for another second. Then you cross the room.

Zayne doesn't say anything when you slide under the covers beside him. He just lies down beside you and adjusts the quilted duvet to tug it up over your shoulders. The bed is warmer than the one in the room you were given. Or maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s the way your skin always goes a bit too clammy whenever you’re near Zayne. And being in the same bed as him only heightens your yearning for him. The air feels thick with his calming scent—something clean yet faintly herbal like peppermint or eucalyptus.

You lie stiffly at first, trying to give him space by sticking to the extreme end of the bed. But the air beyond the blanket’s edge is cold, and you don’t want to accidentally slip out into the frosty air.

Zayne doesn’t say a word. He just reaches out, fingers grazing your wrist under the sheets. It’s the softest touch, almost uncertain. Somehow, his fingers feel even colder than the air outside. But his touch makes your skin sweat.

You turn your head toward him.

“Are you still cold?” you ask.

You expected to borrow his warmth, but instead, something about him draws the heat from you—like he needs it more than you do. For once, you want to be the warmth that eases into his chest. Maybe all the heat he makes you feel with a simple look or the graze of his fingertips can finally serve a bigger purpose.

He nods, barely perceptible in the dim light. “A bit.”

You shift, turning onto your side to face him properly. “C’mere,” you whisper, a little less confident than you want to sound.

There’s a pause. Then he inches closer, slow and deliberate, until you can feel the chill of his body against yours. Your legs brush. His hand settles lightly at your waist, no pressure behind it, like he’s testing the space between you.

You reach up and touch his cheek, brushing his hair back from his forehead. His skin is cool. But he melts under your touch—the perfect complement to how you always burn for him. You watch, enraptured, as his eyelashes flutter in what seems like bliss.

“You couldn’t sleep because of the cold either, could you?” you ask with a chuckle. “You should’ve come to my room.”

He exhales softly, something between a laugh and a hitched breath. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You never bother me.”

Your voice is quiet, but you mean it. You’re close enough now to feel the soft rhythm of his breathing against your chest. His body gradually relaxes as the warmth spreads between you—a slow, calm settling, like snow drifting to earth.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a moment. “For being my hearth.”

You feel his fingers tighten slightly against your side, a quiet acknowledgment of how much your presence means to him—more than just the warmth you can provide.

His words and touch fan the flames beneath your skin, and you press a light kiss to his forehead in reply. Eventually, his breathing evens out. The house is wrapped in silence again as your stoic doctor curls closer to you in his sleep.

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dividers by me (please do not repost)

[saetiate]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible) word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan.

“What are you doing here, Sae?”

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[rjunhuang]

juliet, o juliet ✰ tim drake

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: tim gets grounded so you take it upon yourself to get him out. the problem? he doesn't want to leave — he just wants you.

warnings: lowercase intended. fem reader. established relationship. reader is also a vigilante. making out. suggestive. tim is red robin. mention of jason's death. clingy tim.

note: i am his biggest fan. i felt so sinful writing them just MAKING OUT — must be the ace in me. fuck knows how old tim is in current canon but i imagine they're like nineteen in this. also, viet/wasian tim is so real to me — whenever people mention his blue eyes i get jumpscared.

divider by omi-resources | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

tim drake had always been the voice of reason.

being reckless was not in his nature. he was wired for precision and hypothesis. out of all his teammates, young justice or anywhere else, he was least likely to mess things up due to carelessness. in fact, tim drake cared too much.

it was exactly why he put himself on the frontlines this time — for the sake of the mission. for the safety of his team. if anyone needed to harmed, let it be him.

and while the mission ended in a success with red robin unscathed, bruce did not like what he came to hear. maybe it was the jason trauma kicking in, but bruce didn’t need his children playing the role of martyr.

so, for the first time in long while, tim was grounded.

no outings. no patrolling. no you.

his brothers took great pleasure in seeing the wayne child, whose image was all about being ‘orderly’, sulk in the confines of his bedroom. tim attempted to slip away many times, but living under a roof filled with security systems and other super-spies, it was harder to escape than arkham asylum in comparison. little damian had no problem reporting to their father if tim’s foot made it even a centimeter past the front door.

lucky for tim, he had a girlfriend who shared a mind of his own. breaking into the wayne manor was difficult — this was batman’s sanctuary, after all. you’d almost gotten your butt fried when hopping past a high voltage trip wire.

truthfully, you didn’t need to be doing all of this. you had access to most, if not every, part of the estate. you even had your assigned room there, whenever you decided to stay over. you were associated to the bats as closely as stephanie brown or barbara gordon. nevertheless, the idea of forcing your way into a place you could practically call your home sounded incredibly appealing for what was a dull wednesday night.

tim only noticed you perched out his windowsill when he heard a small tap on the glass, forcing him to peel his eyes away from his laptop. his personal laptop, of course — bruce knew tim’s biggest hobby was scrolling through the system files to crack any cases.

“nuh-uh.” tim begun to vigorously shake his head. “no. nope.” he pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to the window. “get out.” he hissed lowly, like he was shooing away a stray cat, fanning his hands. to be fair, you did look like one with the cheshire’s grin you held. when he realised you couldn't hear him through the glass, he unlatched it, leaving a crack wide.

tim’s reaction hadn’t faltered you in the slightest. you saw it coming, in fact. if bruce happened to catch you in his room — which was very possible — tim would be blessed to be un-grounded before thirty.

you took the open window as a chance to push your way into his room. your hop was light, feet soundless on the rich wooden floors. it’s been near a week since you’ve last seen your boyfriend. the longest separation since the time you met at the ripe age of fourteen. tim, who had all the strength to do so, doesn’t make an attempt to keep you out. despite all his protests, he was missing you a lot more than he currently let on.

you don’t pay mind to a single word he’s whisper-yelled. instead, planting your hands on his face, diving in to give him a gentle greet on the lips. he couldn’t say a damn thing once your lips landed on his.

his hands automatically found their usual position on your hips, instinctively pulling you closer as he kissed back. he was dying of withdrawal, his body reacted to you like he needed air. the kiss left you giddy, but you managed to pull yourself back before any one of you could lose the plot. staying put in tim’s hold, you asked, “sneak out with me?”

“this is a horrible idea—“ he muttered in a hushed tone. it was evident how badly he wanted to run away with you.

“oh, come on,” you begun, “he’s your dad. he’ll come around to forgive you a lot more easily than you think.” the tips of your fingers brush against tim’s pale face, pining the mere touch of him. it was a deal with the devil — for you were letting your heart get to you and not your head.

but, dammit. how did you making everything so enticing? you were a temptation that he absolutely could not resist.

with a groan, he leaned into your touch. he didn’t want to admit it out loud but he was caving. “he’s already pissed that i went against orders. this’ll just piss him off more,” he protested weakly, despite knowing that he was about to give into you anyway.

“please?” you pleaded, with a weak attempt of what people called ‘puppy eyes’. you leaned in closer to brush your lips against his. “i miss you.”

you had him wrapped around your damn finger — the second those three words left your lips, it was over. his will to resist was crumbling by the second. tim sighed, giving your lower lip a small and playful bite. “you’re the bane of my existence.”

you raised your eyebrows. “isn’t that a bridgerton quo—“ your comment is smothered by another kiss.

tim’s hands shifted to your thighs to lift you up, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. he pressed you against the wall of his room, returning the kiss with fervor. his fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you tightly. “shut up and kiss me.” he breathed against your lips.

your bodies are reacting before your brains do. clearly, the days spent apart had been driving tim up a wall as well. “wait, wait, wait.” you giggled against his lips, “we’re supposed to be sneaking out, not making out.”

tim only groaned when you interrupted the kiss, burying his face into your shoulder. he was so close to completely abandoning the idea of sneaking off to just kiss you until the sun came up. “c’mon,” he whined, “sneaking out is overrated, let’s just stay here and make out instead.”

“gods— you are such an introvert.” said the other introvert — yourself. you rested your head against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the black tufts of hair on tim’s nape. his eyes fluttered momentarily at the feeling of you playing with hair, a small, content hum rumbling in the back of his throat. “i really wanted to go for the whole romeo and juliet aesthetic. except, i’m romeo and i’m trying to get you out and have your father’s approval.”

he raised his head to roll his eyes in an overdramatic effect, though a smile pulled at the corner of his lips while listening to your rambling. “you do know they both die at the end, right?” he teased before pressing another kiss against your collarbone, trailing his lips up towards your jaw. “besides, you’d be the worst romeo,” he said with a gentle nip.

“what?” you dramatically yelped, offended. “would not. i’d totally drink poison for you, or however the play goes. juliet, oh, juliet — let down your hair.”

the sudden and rather loud outburst had tim immediately cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your next sing-song remarks. “be. quiet,” he said with a small laugh. “you’ll get us caught, dumbass.” he couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. “see? terrible romeo, i’m doing all the work.”

but you weren’t really listening anymore, your eyes narrowing into a knowing, dirty-minded look. the smirk you were currently sporting was enough for tim to get the message. the small smile on his face betrayed the false annoyance, “pervert.” he mumbled, lowering his hand from your mouth to rest it on your hip instead.

“you like this pervert.”

“not the words that come out of that mouth.”

“i can think of other ways to use this mouth.”

“oh, yeah?”

“i can use it,” you paused for dramatic effect, and in a blink, you’re swinging off of tim’s grip, “to eat a good ol’ hotdog at our nearest bodega.” you said the line like a narrator straight out a 60’s commercial.

“you little—“ he started, his hand flailing outwards in a pathetic attempt to grab you again. you snickered at his reaction, too busy collecting your backpack that you slipped off in passing earlier. tim was still pouting like a child as he slumped back against the wall. you took a step closer and swung an arm across his shoulder, dragging him with you to his window.

“a shitty pizza slice sounds so good right now.” he couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of laughter at your excitement for shitty bodega pizza.

tim’s only response was to let out a small smile, muttering, “alright, let’s go get our shitty pizza, then—”

[mmmmilo00]

Sevikas love languages

Modern au

I think one of Sevikas love language is definitely act of service. She's always there to do whatever it is in her power to make you feel comfortable and safe!

It could be as small as her peeling your fruits so you don't have to, or opening jars that are too hard for you to open. She'll even detangle your earphones, when your too frustrated to handle that.

She's always there to offer her help, support and her love, without ever being overwhelming. She understands that you are a capable adult of handling your own stuff but she also wants to spoil you at the best of her capabilities!!

You've made a comment about how you liked oranges? Tomorrow there's 2 bags of them waiting for you on the kitchen counter. You've absentmindedly complained about how your back hurts from sitting around all day in your office? She'll religiously apply soothing cream on your back, every single night before going to sleep.

She's the type of lover that always has you in her mind. For example,she's a pretty light sleeper so she'll often wake up at night randomly. She'll definitely use that moment to make sure your head is positioned correctly on the pillow so you won't deal with cramps in the morning:

It's summer, the weather is super hot and your apartments AC is broken. Sevika wakes up slightly irritated and sweating like crazy. As she tries to get up, she feels a weight on her body. She looks down and sees your legs sandwiching her torso. One of your arm is on her chest while the other is behind your head. You look like a mess and she's genuinely wondering how you're able to pull that position. She huffs at your nonsense and slowly detangles herself from you, pushes you on your back and places both your arms at your side. "There, baby. I bet that's more comfortable" she hums softly. She's not expecting any answer, but when your face scrunches and she hears you grumble, she can't help but softly chuckle at your attitude before landing a soft peck on your forehead.

Contrary to popular beliefs,I do think she shows a bit of physical touch when she expresses her love for you.

Maybe not in the beginning of your relationship,where she's super hesitant on being vulnerable with you in fear it will backfire on her. However,as months go by,she'll start leaning more into your touches.

If you're a clingier person when it comes to your partner,it may come off as overwhelming for her at first. She's not used to sharing so much of herself with people,and she definitely isn't too educated on what to do. She's lowkey awkward lmaooo

But,as mentioned,she grows out of it, and starts seeking your affectionate touches more frequently. She'll kiss your cheek in public whenever she misses you,even when you're literally next to her. She'll hold your hands in her big ones and rub your palm with her thumb whenever you're anxious to give you some sort of comfort. She'll even twirl your hair whenever SHE'S anxious hehe

And her hugs!!! Her hugs!! It's like being engulfed in a giant soft marshmallow. Heres a cute scenario that's been on my mindddd:

It's been a long day of work for you and you're honestly so exhausted from the huge amount of workload you had to do. As you drag yourself to your shared appartment with the last bit of energy that you have, you start fumbling for your keys. Once you open the door door, you're met with Sevika in her kitchen apron and fuzzy socks.

"Hey sweetheart, took you some time" she softly questioned. You could barely answer her as you were fighting to get your coat off of you. She smirked slightly before getting closer and helping you unbutton your cause of stress. "Here, let me help"

Her smell was so intoxicating, so sweet, so like her that you just melted on her,making her gasp softly as she quickly held you with her big strong arms so you didn't fall. This was honestly the life, you softly closed your eyes and snuggled deeper into her chest as she softly rubbed your back.

"Missed you too hun" she softly hummed before kissing the top of your head.

-------------------------------------------------------

Requests are open! I got no more ideas lol maybe they'll inspire me;) No NSFW obvv

[prettydaisygirl]

GENUINELY how do you write like you're running out of time 😩

absolutely in awe --- BUT ALSO have you seen the picture of atj with cards?

if/whenever it's possible, could you make a roommates!james fic around that?

thank you sm! always look forward to all the day-makers you put out queen 🫶

Me and Alexander Hamilton 🏃🏃

Nonnie thank you soooo much for your request! I had the beautiful, lovely @mischievousmoony show me the pictures as the ATJ expert because I had, in fact, NOT seen them. But I'm glad I did, I love them, so thank you for that also. I looked at them and here's what my brain spit out haha! Hope you enjoy <3

roommate!James Potter x fem!reader who gets accused of cheating (at cards) ✿ 569 words

cw: fem!reader, could be interpreted as drinking alcohol but also could be any drink, roommates to more???

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

“You’re cheating!”

You give James a deadpan look, lowering your cards down to your lap. He’s glaring, and it’s a serious one. You purse your lips to stop yourself from giggling.

“And now you’re laughing at me!” James is full blown pouting now.

“I’m not laughing, I’m not! It’s just…” A giggle escapes you anyway. “How do you cheat at ‘Go Fish’?” 

“I don’t know! Ask yourself!” James throws his cards down, revealing all of them to you as he leans back against the couch, legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him. You glance at his cards and find yourself laughing again. You would’ve won, for sure. 

“See? You’re doing it right now!” James accuses, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s twelve and not a fully grown man.

“Hey, you threw them down and showed them to me.” You argue, reaching for your drink. You take a swig, only for James to snatch it and finish it off himself. It’s your turn to glare at him this time.

“This is your punishment.” He tells you after he chugs down the rest of your drink. “For cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat!” You nudge him with your knee and he nudges you back. “But… I would’ve won anyway.”

“Oh, now you’re just asking for it.” James launches himself at you, the two of you tumbling on the floor together. He starts to tickle you, your squeals of protest ignored as his fingers find all of your most ticklish spots. He knows you too well, knows exactly what to do to have you crumbling in his hands. 

“James!” You’re trying to shout at him but it comes out shaky from your giggles. You try to shove him off, push him away, but it’s pointless. He’s bigger than you, his body on top of yours now, and his laughter begins to match your own. 

Cards lay scattered around you, forgotten as James finally stops and allows you to catch your breath. You watch him from your place beneath him, back against the carpet. Only once your breathing steadies and your giggles fade out do you realize the position you both are in. James seems to notice too. 

“Sorry,” He says, shaking his head a little as he sits back on his heels. You lean up, resting on your elbows. James’ legs are still on either side of your own, and you notice the light blush on his face. Your cheeks heat to match.

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” You say, voice far more timid than it should be. James goes quiet, and you do too, the air being sucked right out of the room. James’ eyes look back and forth between each of your own, and you inhale sharply when his hand moves to cup your cheek.

He’s kissing you before you can even realize what’s happening. His lips are plump, the kiss softer than you’ve imagined. Every time you’re laying in bed alone at night, knowing he’s just on the other side of the wall, you imagine him… rougher. Less controlled.

Instead, the tooth-rotting sweetness of his kiss makes your head spin, he cradles your face like you’re something precious. When he pulls away with a smile, you can’t help but mimic him.

“And that’s my reward.” He says, and you look at him with confusion, so he clarifies with a laugh, “For catching you cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat!”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TYRANT- J. MILLER

day twenty four of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! dilf! joel x fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: you're home for the summer and the local bar is having a western night- and a certain older cowboy catches your eye. good thing you know how to lasso them in and ride them good...

warnings: SMUT- reverse cowgirl ofc, heavy praise kink, petnames, swearing, size kink, daddy kink, hair pulling, joel lowkey mocking and being all condensending, truck sex in the parking lot (kinda exhibitionism?), heavy flirting and sexual tension, intoxication

this is inspired by the time my local bar was hosting a country night and i made a "cowboys only" tramp stamp... yeah

“tyrant every time i ride it, every time i ride it/ make it look so good, try to justify it- boy, i know they're lookin' for me, how we gonna hide it?/ ride it like hydraulics, i am such a tyrant"- tyrant, beyonce

It had started as a joke.

And then, it hadn’t.

You had no marks on your skin, free of ink. Except for the eyeliner that had been used instead, for tonight.

It was Western Wednesday at the local bar- the go to spot back home surrounded by hay bales and tumbleweeds. Without a question being asked, you and your group of girlfriends had gathered at your house to get ready, talking over each other with excitement, catching up as you had all retunited from time away at school.

After a few drinks had been tossed back and rollers had been placed in heads of hair, you brought up the idea. It was silly, and you couldn't get through it without bursting out in giggles.

What if… what if I got a tramp stamp? Just for the night?

It had ended with you flat on your stomach, your friend scribbling your request in pretty font, just above where your thong poked out from your low rise jeans.

Cowboys Only, with a little bow under it.

It was teasing.

Poking out from under your little tank top whenever you lifted your arms up, throwing your head back to laugh and dance with your girls.

And it had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be.

On top of an older cowboy.

He had taken his time before he approached you. Heavy, heated gaze latched onto your figure as you slid past the wooden swinging doors, chatting with your crowd. Your eyes had met his instantly. Heat pooled in your panties and you knew.

That one. I want that one.

He was older, you could tell by his weathered hands and salt and pepper hair that framed his deep, dark puppy dog eyes. That had narrowed in on you.

Like a predator had found its prey.

You waited. You never claimed to be easy, even though you had spent your time gushing about how attractive the stranger in the corner was to anyone who’d listen. You had always joked to your girls about how badly wanted an older man to sweep you off your feet one of these nights.

You hoped tonight was the night.

It had taken a drink or two for you to let yourself relax a bit more, to get used to the buzz of the chatter and the neon lights of the bar. It was then you could dance, swaying your hips seductively side to side, feeling his eyes on you as he sipped on his beer.

Observing the little font that graced your lower back.

Your eyes met his again as you made your way up to the bar, sliding up next to him as you ordered a whisky sour.

“What's a pretty lil thing like you doing here on a Wednesday night?” he murmured lowly, breath smelling like mint and tobacco.

You hummed, watching as the bartender made your drink. “Western night. I like the cowboys.”

His eyebrow raised, a ringless hand drumming the oak bartop.

“S’that so sweetheart?”

You smirked, turning to flip up your shirt, exposing the font, and a good chunk of your little thong in the process. He had already seen it, of course. You had felt his eyes on you the whole time you had danced for him.

“You haven't seen?” you giggled seductively, throwing him a flirtatious little wink as you grabbed your drink from the bartender, tossing him an extra tip as you took a sip.

The mystery man leaned in close, a hand slipping down to cup the dip of your spine. You savoured the touch, his large palm covering the ink, warm and soft as he gripped you in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game darlin.” he grumbled, southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine.

You hummed. Teasing him, as you leaned more into his touch. Letting his hand slide down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze. Letting him be a disgusting pervert, when he knew he was so much better than that.

He was a gentleman. But you made him want to be anything but.

“How so sir?”

The name sent him spiralling. Fuck it.

“Because I’m twice your age, if not more darlin. And you’re making me think about dirty things.”

You battered your lashes at him, leaning down to rest your elbows on the bar, showing full cleavage. Doe eyes wide and innocent- while your actions were anything but.

“What things?”

“I wanna take you back to my truck and show you how a real man fucks. Cause I bet that pretty lil pussy hasnt been treated right by anyone your age.”

Well. That was the truth.

You wanted to find out what it was like, just once- to see where this could lead you. His dirty words sparked that flame in your lower belly, squeezing your thighs together.

Finishing your drink in one big swig, you slammed the glass down on the wood and whipped the remaining liquid that trickled from the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Well, what's stoppin you old man?”

゜✭・.・✫・゜ ゜✭・.・✫・゜

“Fuckkkkk. Joellll-” you moaned, gripping his thighs as you slid up and down. He was so fucking big he nearly split you in half. And it hurt so good.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours honey, you know daddy doesn't like when you use dirty words.” he chuckled, admiring your pretty form swallow him up, a creamy ring formed around his base and grey pubes.

It took everything in you to not fold, your legs already quivering from the multiple orgasms he had given you already. Your brain felt incoherent.

“Mmm s’sorry I didn't mean to-”

“I know sweetheart, you're such a sweet girl. Heads just gone all dumb f’yer old man eh? Poor thing.” he cooed, taking your hair in his hands, tightening his grip on you.

Your head leaned back, still continuing to ride him in reverse cowgirl as he taunted you.

He was right. You hadnt been fucked like this before. And you never wanted to go back.

“Need s’help daddy please-” you cried, as you clenched around him again.

He knew your body like it was his own, making it sing and hum for him as he played it like an instrument. Despite him just meeting you tonight. He knew how to make you scream for him. Your voice was hoarse, and he could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Awh sweetheart I thought my lil cowgirl knew how to ride?”

You moaned as your pace was interrupted by his hips pummeling up into you, taking full control. Your back arched , your hair tugged on as if he was holding reins as you bounced from his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his thighs, a sharp cry leaving your lips that echoed off the fogged up windows of his pick-up.

“There you go darlin, just needed your daddy to help ya out yeah? My sweet girl just needed someone to take control of this tight lil cunny.” he whispered, a cocky smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm for him.

That damn ink flashed back at him- and he couldn't help but feel proud of himself for fulfilling the claim.

“S’good Joel, you feel so damn good…” you moaned, sweat trickling down your body, the smell of sex clinging to you like a second skin.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum again?”

“Please, need to-” He chuckled lowly.

“Go ahead baby. Askin so nicely, always with the manners. M’gonna keep a sweet thing like ya around, ya understand?”

You nodded feverlishy, cuming around his cock with a cry as it hit that one spot that had you seeing stars. Basked in the comfort of his strong hands as they left your hair, finding their way to rest on your hips.

“Joel..”

“M’almost there sweetheart, just gonna use you for a lil okay? That sound okay baby? You just sit there and be all pretty.”

He moaned, letting his head roll back as you clenched around him tightly, biting his lip so hard he almost tasted copper.

“Fuck you're so tight. Such a sweet little cunt. Knew she’d take me so good.”

A few more sloppy thrusts into you and he was spent, filling you up to the brim, cooing sweet nothings at your worn out frame. He had fucked you so hard you knew it was a closed case.

He was the only cowboy you wanted. 

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Imagine Joel taking your virginity

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

WC: 5.4k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, porn with no plot, unspecified but big age gap, oral (m!receiving), virginity loss, unprotected piv, thigh riding, daddy kink, baby-talking, young and innocent reader, creampie, condescending joel, terms like baby girl, sweet little girl etc.

Even thought this part is a standalone, you might want to read a previous part: Joel teaches you how to go down on him.

Today was just another quiet afternoon in Jackson, you’d been heading back from the greenhouse, you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings, too focused trying to brush the dirt off your knees, until you saw them…

Joel was outside the stables, half-laughing about something with a woman, gray in her hair, deep lines around her eyes from a life lived outdoors, she looked about the same age as Joel. She was standing close to him, not too close, nothing inappropriate, nothing that would give you the right to get pissed, but the kind of close that felt natural.

You stopped walking without meaning to, and you watched as she touched his arm and laughed. They looked right together, and it hit you like a sucker punch, the breath caught in your lungs and wouldn’t let go. Maybe because you’d never look right with Joel next to you, at least not in the way people expect a couple to look. People didn’t assume you two were together, hell, you’d even been mistaken for father and daughter more than once whenever someone new showed up in Jackson.

You turned away, heading back home before you could watch more. You felt so small, so young, like some little kid playing grown-up. You weren’t enough, not for him, not when he could talk for hours with a woman who remembered the same pre-outbreak songs, who didn’t need Joel to teach her how to shoot, or how to suck him off, a woman who could take all of him, not just the tip.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed after you reached your house until you heard the door open, footsteps crossing the threshold. Joel’s voice followed a second later, light and casual.

“Hey, darlin’. You home already?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. You felt so insignificant, who were you trying to fool? There would come a day, because of course there would, when Joel would get tired of playing house with a little girl pretending to be a woman.

Joel walked into the bedroom, you didn’t look up, you were staring hard at the floor, fists clenched in your lap. He paused in the doorway, sensing the shift in the air instantly.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“C’mon now,” he said gently, stepping closer. “I know when something’s up, sweetheart.”

You finally glanced up, and the moment your eyes met his, everything cracked.

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “With her. That woman.”

Joel blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Her. Outside the stables.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean Carmen?”

You nodded once, the name sounded even worse spoken aloud.

Joel crouched in front of you. “What about her?”

You let the silence hang for a second too long, he caught it, could see it on your face. What were you supposed to say? He hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t cheated or anything like that.

“Goddammit,” he murmured. “My baby’s got herself twisted up, huh?”

“She’s your age,” you whispered. “She laughs with you. She gets your stories. She probably remembers music on the radio. And—and—I feel like a stupid little girl. You’re a man. You’ve lived this whole life. I don’t even… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, I just pretend, and you’re just—You’re Joel. You don’t need me.”

“You really are just a dumb little thing, huh?” Your breath caught, he wasn’t cruel when he said it, just… exasperated, deeply, lovingly exasperated “Little dumb baby.”

Your breath was shallow, tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. Joel didn’t say anything at first, just reached for your hands, gently unclenching them.

“I’m gonna say this once,” he said, voice low. “And I want you to hear me, alright?”

You nodded, barely.

“You’re my baby. You're soft, and sweet, and so fuckin’ easy to wreck I can barely keep my hands off you. You look at me like I’m good, even when I ain’t. And yeah, baby, I like that you need me. I like teachin’ you. I like when you look up at me all scared and excited, askin’ me to show you things no one ever has.”

He pulled your hands to his chest, right over his heart.

“I want you. I choose you. Every single goddamn day.”

Your throat closed, he sounded sincere, and you really wanted to believe him

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked. “I see someone who makes me laugh when I forget how. Someone who touches me like I matter. You know how long it’s been since I’ve felt that? I feel alive, baby. I feel like a man again. Not a ghost.”

You looked at him, really looked, and saw how wrecked he was now, how deeply this was hitting him too.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re not a phase. You’re not pretendin’. And you’re sure as hell not some kid to me, you’re my girl.”

“I just… I know I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not older. I don’t know how to do stuff. I had to ask you to show me how to… suck you, and then I couldn’t even take you, not really. Just the tip.” your voice cracked on that. “You’ve waited so long already and it’s not fair—”

“Stop.”

You blinked, his voice was quiet, but it had teeth. Joel pushed himself up slowly, sitting beside you on the bed, and looked down at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I don’t want this?” he asked, voice low and gravel-deep. “You think I’d rather be off with some older, experienced woman who could deep throat me and ride me into the goddamn sunset?”

He shook his head, almost laughing, but there was no humor in it.

“You think I give a single shit that you don’t know what you’re doin’? Sweetheart, I like teachin’ you. I like that you’ve never done this before. I like bein’ the first cock you take. I like that I get to be gentle with you. Take my time. Watch you fall apart under me.” He leaned down, bracing himself over you, hand sliding to your cheek. “You think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause I only had the tip inside you? Baby girl, that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I’ve had in years.”

Your breath caught.

“You were clenchin’ around me so tight, I damn near came the second I pushed in. And you were so sweet—so good—lookin’ up at me all wide-eyed, sayin’ please, Joel, please just the tip, like you didn’t know you were ruinin’ me.”

You looked away, a bit embarrassed by the memory, but is hand gently brought your face back to his.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, softly this time. “You think I want someone who’s had twenty dicks in her mouth and five up her pussy?”

Your eyes widened, Joel was always so blunt, you let out a startled laugh, he grinned, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I want you, baby. I want this tight, shy little thing that don’t even know how sweet her own mouth feels until I show her. I want the girl who looks up at me while she’s suckin’ and asks, am I doin’ good, Joel? like it don’t drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You nodded against him, voice small. “I just… I want to be enough for you.”

Joel pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. You were so clueless, Joel thought, how couldn’t you see how much he loved how soft and innocent you were? How you were all he’d ever wanted? Your sweetness made both his heart ache and his cock throb.

“You are enough. You’re fuckin’ perfect for me.”

You searched his face, the lines, the grey at his temples, the quiet sadness behind his eyes, and all you saw there was truth.

“Even if I need you to teach me everything?” You whispered.

“Especially that,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m gonna teach you right. Teach you slow. You’re gonna learn everything from me, and only me."

“Joel... I wanna try again,” you said, and your voice came out soft, but sure. “With my mouth.”

Joel stilled, his eyes darkened slow, oh, the things you did to him, hearing you say those filthy things with that sweet, innocent mouth of yours. He smiled, slow, crooked, filthy.

“You mean suckin’ my cock?” he asked, all teasing drawl and patronizing sweetness.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to.”

Joel’s hand slid higher on your thigh. “You askin’ real nice, baby girl.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Joel. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna do it right this time.”

He groaned, low and sharp, hand flexing on your skin.

“Alright, then, but only cause you want to, not because you feel like you need to prove somethin’,” he muttered. “Go ahead. Show me what you remember.”

He shifted back on the bed and unzipped his jeans with one hand, tugging them low enough to free his cock, already half-hard, thick, and flushed. You sat up on your knees between his legs, suddenly so aware of how big he looked like this, broad and spread out, just waiting.

Your hand wrapped around the base of him, he twitched in your palm, and you leaned down slowly, licking a soft stripe up the underside like he’d shown you before.

Joel exhaled sharp through his nose. “Thassit. Just like that, baby.”

“Hi there,” you said softly with his cock on your hand.

Joel huffed a laugh, low and almost incredulous. “You talkin’ to my cock now?”

“Maybe,” you said to Joel, before focusing your eyes back to his cock. “Hello again,” you said sweetly, leaning in to kiss the head. “Missed me?”

His breath was already hitching, you took it as a good sign and did it again, this time licking the head in slow, teasing circles, letting your tongue slip under the ridge.

“Look at you. Such a good boy. Getting all big and strong for me.”

Joel groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. You’re one of a kind, baby girl.”

You batted your lashes up at him. “You like it.”

“I love it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on your mouth as you gave another teasing lick up the underside. “Love my silly baby girl talkin’ nonsense while she plays with her food.”

You giggled and leaned in, rubbing your cheek affectionately against his cock like it was a plush toy. And then you leaned down and kissed it with over-the-top reverence, soft little “muah” sounds, little nose nuzzles. You really liked his cock, sure, it was the only one you’d ever seen in person, so you didn’t exactly have a reference point, but still… if you had to guess? It was the kind of cock a woman would want

He gave you that slow, dangerous smirk. “You gonna make out with him right in front of me, baby?”

You nodded solemnly. “Don’t be jealous, daddy. He deserves love too.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Christ, you’re such a goddamn brat.”

You were driving him absolutely insane, on your knees, looking like a sweet little angel who’d fallen from heaven, your innocent little face nuzzling all over his cock, rubbing your cheek against it, pressing soft kisses… He wanted so badly to grab your hair, shove his cock down your throat and hold you there as he emptied his balls.

You kept flicking your tongue over his tip over and over again, watching as it began to leak more

“I’m your brat.”

“Damn right you are,” he said roughly, running a hand through your hair. “My sweet dumb baby. Givin’ daddy a heart attack every time she opens her mouth.”

“He missed me,” you whispered, tongue tracing around his tip. “He loves my mouth, doesn’t he?”

Joel’s voice dropped, rough and sweet and low. “Yeah, baby. He does. You got the best fuckin’ mouth. He wants you drooling all over him, don’t he?”

“Mhm.” You licked a fat stripe up the underside, then wrapped your lips around the head, making Joel moan, loud and unfiltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “You been practicin’ in your dreams or somethin’, baby girl?”

You smiled against him. “Just been thinkin’ about it,” you whispered. “Thinkin’ about makin’ you feel good.”

“Better just be that,” Joel groaned, “and not you practicin’ on any of those boys from round town.”

“Jooeeel,” you giggled, sweet and teasing, “you know I don’t want anyone else but daddy.”

He growled, and you let your lips close around the tip and sucked, hollowing your cheeks, going slow, shallow, just the tip, in and out, working your hand at the base to match like he'd taught you last time.

“Atta girl,” Joel groaned. “That’s it. Look at you. My good girl. My perfect little cockslut.” Joel’s hand came to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just resting.

“Jesus, baby. You’re learnin’. Makin’ daddy feel so good…”

You moaned around him, and he twitched in your mouth, the vibrations were just adding to the intense pleasure you were already giving him.

“Fuck—yeah, do that again. Moan on it. Shit.”

You moaned and took him a little deeper, your throat felt tight, but you were determined, wanting to prove him you were a big girl, one that could take his entire cock in your mouth. You pulled back after you ran out of breath, and sucked softly on the tip, letting spit drip and smear down your fist.

He groaned loud. “Look at you,” he panted. “Look at this fuckin’ mouth, takin’ my cock so sweet. You were made for this, baby girl.”

You got bolder by his compliments, and licked down to the base and back up again. Let the head rest on your tongue and gazed up at him, eyes wide and wet, mouth full.

“Oh fuck, baby—don’t look at me like that, I swear to God—”

“You like that?” You asked, lips glossy with spit. “You like watchin’ me do it?”

“I love watchin’ you do it,” he growled. “You’re so good, baby. S’good for me. This mouth’s made for suckin’ daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered, and he caught your face in both hands, gently guiding you down again, rocking his hips just a little. He needed it, yes, he loved the gentle flicks of your tongue, the toying with his tip, but right now he needed to hit the back of your throat.

“You take what I give you,” he murmured. “Little bit deeper now. That’s it. Just like that. My good girl. Take him all the way. Show him how much you love him.”

You worked him with your mouth and hand together, taking breaks to lick, to suck, to breathe—and each time you paused, he praised you, whispered filth like you were doing him the biggest favor in the world.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so pretty like this… pretty mouth full of me…”

“Yeah, just like that, take your time… fuck, I ain’t gonna last…”

“You feel how hard I am for you? You know what you do to me, baby girl?”

You sucked him harder, hand twisting at the base, Joel groaned, full-bodied and deep. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna last another minute with you takin’ it like that.”

You whimpered around him, thighs squeezing together. Just his moans and those bold, filthy compliments were enough to get you wet and aching.

“Aw, baby’s gettin’ wet just suckin’ cock, huh? Poor little thing. Gonna need me later?”

You nodded, still bobbing, spit running down your chin. You pulled off just enough to murmur:

“He’s gettin’ twitchy.”

Joel grunted. “Yeah? You feel him startin’ to cum?”

“Warn me, daddy,” you said around him. “But I’m not stoppin’.”

You smiled and sucked him back into your mouth, sucking deep, and you didn’t let go until he was shaking, grunting, hips stuttering.

“F-Fuck… baby—daddy’s cummin’, he’s cummin’—fuck, right now—” Joel groaned, voice rough and desperate, his hips jerking up into you as the pleasure overtook him.

He came down your throat, hot and thick and salty, you liked the taste of it more than you did last time. You swallowed around him, let him ride it out in your mouth, his hands cradling the back of your head, thumbs stroking your cheeks like you were precious.

When you finally pulled off, he was panting, staring down at you like he didn’t know what hit him.

“Holy fuck, baby…”

You smiled, wiped the corner of your mouth. “Did I do good?”

Joel laughed, breathless. “You did perfect.” It was only the second time you’d sucked him, and you’d already outrun every other woman who’d ever been in his life.

He pulled you up onto his lap, arms tight around you. His thigh shifted beneath you, solid and warm, and you didn’t realize you were grinding down against it until he did.

“Ohh,” he said lowly, voice nearly a growl. “There she goes.”

You froze, a little ashamed by the fact that you were so horny you hadn’t even realized you were unconsciously humping his thigh, but Joel leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart. Keep ridin' me like that.”

Your eyes fluttered. “On… on your thigh?”

He nodded slowly, letting his hand drag up the curve of your back. “Mhm. That’s it. That’s what a sweet, shy girl like you needs. Nothin’ too scary. Just daddy’s thigh to start.”

“Joel,” you whispered, embarrassed and overwhelmed and aching so bad.

“S’just like dancin’, baby,” he cooed. “You know how to move your hips, don’t you?”

You nodded shyly, lashes still wet from sucking him, clutching at his shoulders. He adjusted your legs so you were straddling one thick, muscled thigh, your knees braced on either side of his, making you feel the corded muscle shift under you.

“Try movin’,” Joel whispered, voice all honeyed patience. “Rock your hips on me. Just a little to begin with. Just rub your sweet lil’ pussy on my thigh. Pretend it’s my cock if you want.”

You hesitated, but then rolled your hips forward, slowly dragging your clothed pussy over the ridge of his thigh, the friction made you gasp and clutch your fingers on his shirt.

“There we go,” Joel cooed. “See? That feel good? That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do all on your own. Go slow at first. Just lil’ rocks, baby.”

“Oh…”

“Atta girl. You’re doin’ so good. S’just like that.”

You moved again, the soft cotton of your panties growing damper with every pass. Joel watched you like a starving man, eyes hooded, hands staying right at your hips, guiding your movements.

Your breath came quicker as your clit caught on the firm pressure beneath you. The friction was perfect through your panties, rough enough to spark pleasure but safe enough not to scare you.

“Feel good, baby?”

You whimpered. “Y-yeah.”

“You ridin’ me now, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “Even if it’s just my thigh. So desperate to be a big girl, you just had to feel it, huh?”

You nodded, moving again, this time more confidently, moaning under your breath as the pressure hit just right.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he whispered, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “Look at you grindin’ all over me like you need it to breathe.”

Your cheeks burned, you buried your face in his neck as your hips rocked faster. “Feels so good, daddy…”

“I know it does. This is what happens when you trust me to teach you. I’ll show you everythin’, baby. Start you slow… get you used to it.”

You moaned into his skin, your clit catching just right on his thigh.

“Bet you’re gettin’ your pretty panties all wet, huh?”

You whimpered again in response.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” he growled. “Soakin’ through. You keep goin’, baby girl. Use me. Rub that little pussy right on me ‘til you cum.”

“God, Joel, it—feels so good—”

He nodded, hand sliding up your back. “I know it does, sweetheart. That’s your little pussy learnin’ how to get off. Keep goin’ for me

“Joel—”

“You need to cum,” he said, gently but firmly. “You need it, don’t you?”

“I—I think so—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Think real hard. Wanna cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, now chasing every movement of your hips, the pressure was building and building, your clit throbbing against the strength of his thigh. He let you do your thing, just watched you unravel slowly, whispering praise like poison in your ear.

“That’s it. Just like that. Look at you—so sweet and dumb, so fuckin’ precious. Bet if I let you cum like this, you’ll be beggin’ me to show you what ridin’ my cock feels like next, huh?”

“I think—I think I’m gonna—Joel—”

You cried out, back arching, your thighs shaking as the orgasm hit. It was hot and dizzying and so much stronger than you expected just from grinding him, but you’d never done anything like this, never been talked through it like this, handled like this. You kept rocking even through it, drawn-out and needy, until Joel’s hands stilled you.

“Shh. That’s it. That’s enough, baby. I got you.”

Joel held you close through it, murmuring praise into your hair, arms wrapped around you like you were something breakable. When your breath finally slowed and your hips stilled, you whispered, “Joel…”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed, voice small. “I think I’m ready.”

He stilled, blinking, breathing harder now.

“Yeah?” he said after a second, thumb still pressed to your mouth. “You sure, sweetheart? Don’t say it if you’re not. I can wait. I’ll fuckin’ wait forever for you.”

You nodded. “I want it to be you.”

Even though that orgasm had been mind-blowing, your body was still craving more. You were a little scared, but you knew Joel loved you, and that he’d take such good care of you in every step of the way.

Joel let out a shaky, wrecked sound and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like you’d given him something holy. He felt so honored to be the one, the only one, to take that part of you. To be the first cock to stretch you open, to fill you up completely.

“Alright,” he rasped. “Alright, baby girl. We’ll go slow. Real slow. I got you.”

He laid you spread open on the bed, softly, like you were made out of glass. He kissed down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, murmuring as he went.

“I just…” You swallowed, cheeks burning. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.”

Joel exhaled softly, his voice dropped low.

“S’a stretch, baby. First time always is. You might hurt some. But I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll help you through it. You just gotta listen to me, yeah?”

You nodded.

“Gonna be s’good for me,” he breathed. “You’ve been s’good for me already, haven’t you? Lettin’ me teach you. Lettin’ me touch you. And now you’re gonna let me take you all the way. That what you want, baby? Want daddy to take your little virgin pussy?”

Your thighs trembled. “Y-Yeah.”

Joel pulled back just long enough to wrap his hand around himself, hard, and heavy, all over again.

“Look at this cock, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You really think you’re ready for all this?”

Your eyes flicked to his cock, shy but sure, it was all you needed right now. “I want it.”

He groaned, moving between your thighs again. “Alright. Gonna give you just a little first, okay? Gotta stretch you open slow, baby. I ain’t lettin’ you hurt.”

His fingers stroked through your folds, slick and ready, spreading you for him, and then you felt the broad head of his cock, warm and insistent, pressing right at your entrance.

“Deep breath,” Joel said, his voice like velvet. “Just the tip first, like last time. Let daddy in.”

You exhaled, and he took that moment to push forward, just barely, just enough to breach you. You gasped, your whole body tightened around him instinctively, but Joel was already soothing you, already leaning over you with kisses and murmurs and praise.

You gasped—your hands flew to his arms, nails digging in. “Joel—oh—wait—”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “I know, baby. I know. It’s a lot. Daddy’s so sorry.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. You were shaking, even if he wasn’t moving.

he whispered. “Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “Just… hurts more than I thought.”

“I know, baby. I know it hurts. Just breathe f’me. You’re doin’ great.”

You tried to breathe through it, feeling the dull burn of being opened by something too big, too thick, but still, you wanted it, you wanted him.

“Shhh, baby, that’s it. You’re doin’ so good. Tight little thing, ain’t you? Gonna suck me in so sweet. I knew you’d be tight, but fuck—you’re squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry as he gave another slow push.

“It’s a lot, huh?” he whispered against your ear. “Big cock stretchin’ you for the first time. Feels full, don’t it?”

You nodded, jaw trembling. “So full.”

“Too much?”

“No. Keep going, daddy.”

His breath hitched. “Jesus. You’re so fuckin’ brave, baby girl.”

And then finally—finally—he was all the way in, buried to the hilt, making you gasp again. Joel froze, holding you tightly, his whole body shaking above yours.

“Christ,” he groaned. “You took all of me. First time and you’re takin’ me so goddamn deep. That pussy was made for me. You feel that?”

You could only nod. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes. Joel looked down, utterly wrecked by the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, of that tight little hole stretched around him.

You could feel everything, every twitch, every throb, every part of him stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined. It hurt, he was so big, and your body was struggling to take it, but you knew the pain would fade, your just needed to give your body a minute to stretch, to get used to him, and once it passed, the good part would come.

Joel rocked gently, barely moving, just letting your body adjust. You whimpered at the pressure, at the fullness, at the intensity of it all.

Joel just babied you. “Such a sweet girl. So fuckin’ brave. You lettin’ me be your first, baby? Makin’ me feel honored.”

“Don’t move yet,” you whispered. “Just… stay.”

“I ain’t movin’,” Joel said. “You tell me when. This pussy belongs to you until you give me permission.”

Your heart ached by how sweet he was, you wrapped your arms around his neck, held on, breathed, and slowly, the pain dulled, the sting turned to heat, the fullness turned to need, you needed more, you desperatly needed friction.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can move now.”

Joel pulled back, just a little, and then rolled his hips forward, slow and steady. And again, and again. Each stroke made you gasp, made you cling to his shoulders, the feeling of him sliding deep, hot and heavy and perfect, dragging against every tender, untouched nerve inside you.

Every thrust was shallow, slow, careful, but it still made your thighs tremble. The pain was a shadow now, replaced with a tight, delicious ache and something filthy blooming low in your belly.

“Good girl,” he kept whispering. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. I knew you would. This sweet little pussy was just waitin’ for me, wasn’t it?”

You moaned so loud your throat felt sore. You would’ve been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been so completely lost in the overwhelming, electric pleasure coursing through your body.

He was trying to hold back, trying to stay gentle, because he knew how important a first time was, and you were his baby, you deserved for it to be nothing but soft and sweet. But in the back of his mind, he was already tasting the future, already imagining how he’d have you in all fours soon, when your body was ready to take more. He’d be rough then, fucking you deep and hard, just like he knew you’d want it once you got a real taste of him. But not now. Not yet.

“You wanted this cock,” he murmured. “You needed it. Wanted daddy to teach you how to take it. Fuck—look at you, baby girl, takin’ every inch. Buryin’ my cock all the way in this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, not quite from pain anymore, but from how full and overwhelmed you were. Joel kissed them away, he started to move faster, the heat built with every slow thrust, every slick grind of his hips against yours, and then his hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

You arched under him, sobbing louder now, overwhelmed and shaking from how deep he was. It felt like he was in your stomach, stretching places you didn’t even know could feel pleasure.

“J-Joel, it’s so much,” you whimpered. “I—didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He groaned low, voice thick and wrecked.

“That’s right, baby. That’s me all the way up in there,” he murmured, pressing his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the bulge where his cock reached so deep it made your eyes roll back.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Want this little pussy to milk me dry. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-Yes—yes—Joel—”

You didn’t even have to try, the tip of his cock found that perfect spot inside you, that sweet, aching place you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the moment he hit it you saw stars, and then he hit it again… and again… and again.

You came hard, it was all so new, so perfect. You clenched around him, voice breaking, and the spasms of your cunt made Joel snap. His thrusts got rougher, deeper, his hips stuttering as he groaned your name over and over again.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck—gonna fill you up, baby girl, give you every fuckin’ drop—mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

He spilled inside you, grinding deep, holding you to him as you both fell apart. You clung to him, trembling, panting, tears still slipping down your cheeks. It was strange, so strange, a sudden heat blooming inside you, you swore you could feel his thick and warm seed being spilled inside you, and then sliding back out, dripping from your sore, used hole, slick and messy between your thighs. You whimpered at the sensation, so sensitive now that even the slow trickle of it made you twitch.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “So goddamn good. You’re mine now, baby. Every part of you.”

Afterward, Joel gave a few slow, shallow thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you before going completely soft. Even as he pulled out with a low groan, he watched the last of his seed slowly drip from your hole.

“Fuck… look at that, baby,” he rasped, his voice still thick with lust and awe. “Can’t even keep it in. I filled you that good.”

You could barely speak, barely breathe. All you could do was lay there and feel his release leaking out of you in hot waves.

“Daddy made a mess in you,” he murmured, his thumb gently playing with the warm slickness, spreading it over your folds and making you flinch from the sudden sensitivity. “D’you want me to clean you up, baby?”

“Mmm, can I stay like this, daddy?” you whispered. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

It felt… nice. Comforting, even. Being this marked by him. Joel just nodded, he didn’t move away from you, he just stroked your face, your hair, kissed your cheeks and whispered how good you’d done, how proud he was, how much he loved you.

And even though your body ached, your legs were still trembling, and your thighs were sticky with him, you felt safer than you ever had in your life.

He kissed your face, your hair, your lips. You were still crying a little.

“You did so good, baby girl,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ good f’me. I’m so proud of you.”

You held onto him, safe in his arms, and whispered.

“…I love you.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought I could.”

A/N: This definitely ended up being much longer than I intended, especially for pure porn without plot, lol

I’m so happy to see how much you liked the previous part I posted🥹 I immediately started writing this other one, and I hope you enjoy it just as much. If you do, please consider showing some support, it would mean the world to me🩷🩷

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[kuidore]

a bunch of random miromabby headcanons off the top of my head because i cannot stop thinking abt them

- it was originally a joke. Key word was.

- the guys fell first, obviously

- then they immediately concocted a ‘genius’ plan to win her over, which involved essentially what we saw at the signing but with more actual attempts to get her to talk to them

- they’re all over her, all the time, and she’s desperately trying to convince herself she hates it

- At this point in their relationship, when she found herself thinking about them at home for the first time, she immediately buries her head in a pillow and screams so loud she has a sore throat the next day

- they’re very slowly pushing their way into her life and making her like them, as much as she *does not want to* she can’t help it

- they’re ‘pushy’, but she notes they might not be as bad as she thought when one day she’s in a piss poor mood and fully snaps at them, demanding they get off and leave her alone because she was stressed and tired and needed to finish what she was doing. And they actually do?

- they come back with ramyeon and a smoothie for her and she actually lets them sit back down. as long as they shut the fuck up.

- They do. They’re quiet, doing their own thing in her vicinity. they’re happy to parallel play if she’s in the same room, and for the first time she considers the fact that they might actually be doing things like clinging to her constantly not just because they wanted but also because they think she’d like it too

- Sometimes she forgets they’re demons with centuries separating them from the last time they got to experience real human emotions and socialization (this is another hc we don’t know how old they actually are besides Jinu)

- She makes an effort to remind herself, not because it makes her wanna be any less harsh but because it does recontextualize their behaviour a bit. it makes her just a little more fond of them, a bit more aware of the fact that they could actually be thoughtful and considerate

- the longer she thinks about it the more she realizes that beneath the annoyance and the fear of the unknown and the demon markings, yeah. She did like it, just a bit

- even lets Romance put his arm around the back of her chair and lean his head on her shoulder that day, and it doesn’t immediately make her so annoyed she wants to strangle him

- Abby is a textbook himbo, Romance is book smart and *thats it*. Mira is smarter than both of them combined when she’s asleep.

- once they’re actually together, Mira is no less annoyed with them than she was when she first met them. they still know just how to push her buttons and they like pissing her off just a little bit

- but now she has a weapon, which is ‘threatening to break up with pink idiot #1 and #2 every time they start getting particularily obnoxious (aka every two days)

- they ‘cry’ every time. she enjoys their crocodile tears (and real ones too tbh) , they enjoy her amusement. at this point it’s like a game

- Romance and Abby will make out on the couch in front of Mira if they feel ignored.

- they feel ignored whenever she doesn’t look in their direction for any longer than ten minutes

- it’s about a 60:40 that she joins in vs walks out of the room

- most of the time they *will* pout and follow her if she leaves. but sometimes they’re in their own world and she finally gets some damn peace in this house.

- she always puts in her headphones in when the boys are doing their thing because once she’s walked out of the room, she refuses to join in no matter how much she hears that makes her want to. it’s a pride thing. she will be grumpy about it though

- Abby is a morning person, Mira and Romance are *not*. He convinces them to go to the gym in the morning with him a whole one time

-ends up having to carry them both back into the apartment because Romance is out like a light and Mira simply refuses to walk after being dragged out to exercise before the sun was up

- Abby cooks, Mira is good at it but she avoids it at all costs, Romance could burn a pot of boiling water

- Romance is like a dog with separation anxiety he needs to see and touch Mira at least once an hour or he *will* have a bad day

- Abby is more content with loading himself up with physical affection before they have to part ways. On more than one occasion she basically has to fight her way out of a hug just so she can do what she needs to do

- she will not admit that she likes this but. its not hard to tell

- She’s always in the middle when they cuddle, but it barely matters in terms of physical contact. the three of them may as well be laying on top of each other with how close they sleep

- it’s more so because the two of them will argue over who gets to cuddle her otherwise.

- Abby and Romance are also dating to be clear. Their fighting over Mira is lighthearted, and mostly because they like seeing how smug she gets

- Her ego grew three sizes that day they started dating. Rightfully so. Those boys also pump it up at any given opportunity

- they’re all easy blushers, all of em. Romance has his constant one going on but if he’s with Abby and Mira it gets twice as dark.

- that little necklace around Romance’s neck was originally just an empty accessory. After they get together he figures out how to put pictures in it and now it’s got a photo of the three of them inside

- Mira makes fun of him when she finds out but it’s very clear she kinda loves it. she won’t stop fidgeting with the chain any chance she gets after that point

- they end up getting matching ones for their first major anniversary Mira’s is pink and Abby’s is yellow

[sunshine-lux]

ok ok but established relationship joaquin x stark!reader who’s got a sassy little attitude and whenever she’s in a mood (which is often) joaquin always messes with her in a cute and flirty way and sam is always scared like “she’s gonna kill you man”

imagine the little “stooopppp quino”

grumpy x sunshine core i love them

Birds Of A Feather

summary: just a glimpse into the very lovey and chaotic relationship of y/n and joaquin!

pairings: Stark!reader x joaquin torres

warnings: mentions of death sprinkled here and there but nothing serious! y/n constantly threatening joaquin LOL, f!reader, i think that's it!

word count: 3.1k

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Joaquin Torres loves his girlfriend. He’d do anything for her—no hesitation, no questions asked, no matter how dramatic or unreasonable. He’s obsessed. Helpless. Completely whipped.

But with that love comes the deep, primal urge to annoy her to the ends of the world and back.

And lucky for him?

 Y/N Stark makes it so, so easy.

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Y/N slid into the passenger seat of Joaquin’s truck with a huff, slamming the door shut and buckling her seatbelt without so much as a glance in his direction.

Joaquin paused, glancing over at her with an amused lift of his brow. “Hello to you too, sunshine.”

He reached over and poked her arm gently, trying to coax even the tiniest smile out of her.

Y/N didn’t move. Just side eyed him and mumbled, “Whatever. Hi.”

Joaquin bit back a grin. Yep. She was in a mood. He’d seen that look before—usually when someone at work had pissed her off, or her tech wasn’t cooperating, or someone had the audacity to ask her a stupid question in the elevator.

Tonight, apparently, he was the one in the line of fire. Unlucky him. Or lucky, depending on how much he wanted to test her.

“You had one of those days, huh?” he asked lightly, starting the engine.

She didn’t answer. Just crossed her arms and turned to face the window with a sigh.

Joaquin glanced over, still smiling. “Aww, come on. Give me some sugar, sugar.”

He leaned over to kiss her, one arm snaking toward her shoulder to pull her in.

Y/N jerked away instantly, twisting her body toward the door like she was about to open it and jump out mid drive. “I’m so overstimulated right now, get away from me, Joaquin Torres.”

He blinked, hand still suspended mid air. “Damn. Full name and everything.”

“Do not touch me. I mean it. If one more person tries to breathe in my direction, I’m gonna explode.”

He bit his lip to hide a laugh. “Okay, okay. Hands to myself. Got it.” He settled back into his seat, throwing her a sideways glance. “But just for the record, you’re still really hot when you’re grumpy.”

She sighed again, dramatic and sharp. “I know. It’s exhausting.”

Joaquin chuckled, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the driveway. “Want me to cancel the dinner res and just drive around until you’re slightly less homicidal?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering it. “Maybe. Only if you promise to shut up for five minutes.”

“Deal. But I reserve the right to poke you again when I feel like it.”

“Try it and I’ll bite your finger off.”

He grinned wide. “You flirt so weird.”

Y/N turned slowly to look at him, unimpressed. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Quino.”

He beamed. “You say that like it’s not my entire strategy.”

They’d been driving for ten minutes now, music low, windows cracked just enough to let the evening breeze in. Y/N hadn’t said much, but the tension in her shoulders was slowly easing. Her head leaned against the window, eyes closed, fingers tapping gently against her thigh to the beat of whatever lo-fi playlist Joaquin had put on as a peace offering.

Joaquin glanced over at her at the next red light, content to let her decompress.

Which is exactly when she spoke.

“Wow,” she muttered, voice thick with fake betrayal. “You’re not even gonna hold my hand?”

He blinked. “What?”

She turned to him slowly, eyes narrowed in mock offense. “Did you stop loving me or something?”

Joaquin snorted. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch you, you cannibalist.”

“That was ten minutes ago,” she said, wiggling her fingers toward him like bait. “Things have changed. Keep up, Torres.”

“You’re actually insane.”

“And yet, you’re obsessed with me.”

He rolled his eyes but reached across the console anyway, threading their fingers together. She immediately curled into it, squeezing his hand like it was the only thing tethering her to the planet.

He gave her a sideways glance. “So dramatic.”

“Mm. You like it.”

He kissed the back of her hand at the next red light, then refused to let go for the rest of the drive.

They got back to Joaquin’s place a little later, and by then Y/N’s bad mood had mostly fizzled out, leaving her comfortably tired and… just a little clingy. She kicked off her shoes by the front door and flopped face down onto the couch like she was done existing.

Joaquin laughed as he locked the door behind them. “You okay?”

“No,” came the muffled reply from the cushions. “I want chocolate and a heating pad and maybe to be held like a small, misunderstood Victorian orphan.”

He grinned. “So… a regular night in.”

She lifted one hand and flipped him off without lifting her head.

He crouched down and gently brushed her hair from her face. “You’re gonna knock out here like this?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled. “Couch has less betrayal than the world.”

He smiled, leaned in, and without another word, slid one arm under her legs and the other around her back — lifting her in one smooth, practiced motion.

Y/N blinked, startled. “What are you—?”

“Carrying you to bed, princess-style,” he said matter of factly, already heading down the hall. “Can’t let my misunderstood Victorian orphan sleep in the drawing room.”

She buried her face in his neck with a dramatic sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “here you are. In my arms. As foretold.”

“You’re lucky I’m weak.”

“You’re lucky I’m strong.”

She smiled against his skin. “Shut up and tuck me in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He returned a few minutes later with a heating pad, and a bar of chocolate he had absolutely bought just in case. He laid everything out beside her, then sat next to her and gently coaxed her to roll onto him.

She crawled into his lap like a sleepy cat, settling against his chest with a little sigh as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All bark, no bite.”

“I bit you last week,” she mumbled.

“And it was hot.”

She snorted against his chest, letting him stroke her hair as she started to melt into the warmth and quiet.

“…Thanks, Quino,” she said softly after a beat.

He smiled against her forehead. “Always, mi amor.”

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It started innocently. It always started innocently.

They were supposed to be cleaning the kitchen. Keyword: supposed to. Y/N was wiping down the counter. Joaquin was in charge of dishes. Everything was fine. Peaceful, even.

Until he started singing.

Off-key.

Loudly.

And with zero knowledge of the actual lyrics.

“You. Belong. With me—YEAH! You BELONG with meeeeeee,” he howled, doing a little spin with a dirty plate in hand like it was a Grammy.

Y/N froze, rag in hand. “Quino.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“That’s not even the right melody.”

He grinned. “I’m doing the remix.”

“Please don’t.”

But it was already too late. He launched into the next line, doubling the volume and somehow managing to harmonize with nothing.

“She wears short skirts I WEAR T-SHIRTS—”

“STOPPP,” Y/N shrieked, ducking her head into her hoodie, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. “Quinooo, I swear to god—”

He was cackling, absolutely thriving off her chaos, flicking soap bubbles at her now for extra effect.

“Say you like it,” he teased, chasing her around the island with a sponge. “Say I’m talented. Say I’m the people’s pop star.”

“YOU’RE A MENACE.”

She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, voice cracking as she tried to fight him off with a kitchen towel.

“Stop it,” she gasped, half laughing, half crying now, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m gonna pee. I’m gonna pee my pants. I mean it.”

“Better now than in the truck,” Joaquin said cheerfully, dancing around her like he was in a concert crowd. “This is the exclusive living room performance, babe. Be grateful.”

She collapsed onto the floor, breathless and curled in on herself, still giggling uncontrollably. “I’m going to call Sam and tell him what you’re doing to me.”

“Go ahead. He’ll side with me. He likes my performances.”

“HE DOESN’T.”

He knelt down beside her, smug and glowing with victory. “Admit it. You love me more when I’m annoying.”

“I don’t even like you right now.”

“You’re literally crying from laughter.”

“I’m crying because you’re deranged.”

He beamed. “Same thing.”

She flopped dramatically into his lap. “You’re exhausting. My brain is soup. I am soup now.”

He kissed her forehead like he hadn’t just caused a small emotional breakdown.

“I love you, my little soup.”

“Shut up.”

“Say it back.”

“Not until you promise to never sing Taylor Swift again.”

“...what if I said I have a whole playlist queued?”

“I will commit a crime.”

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Sam stepped into the apartment cautiously, already suspicious.

The music was loud. Like, walls shaking, windows rattling loud. And it wasn’t Joaquin’s usual feel good playlist—it was full on metal.  The kind of music that made Sam instinctively squint.

He followed the sound into the living room and found Y/N sitting cross legged on the floor, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized AC/DC shirt, hair wild, eyeliner smudged like she’d either had a long night or a very powerful catnap. She was tinkering with some little device in her lap that looked like an arc reactor, because of course.

Joaquin was in the kitchen, squinting dramatically at the Bluetooth speaker like it had personally offended him.

“She’s been playing this for an hour,” he called out when he noticed Sam.

Y/N didn’t look up. “You can leave. Door’s right there.”

Sam held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just here to borrow the air fryer. Don’t involve me in whatever this is.”

“It’s Iron Maiden,” Y/N said proudly. “It’s culture.”

“It’s a cry for help,” Joaquin muttered, scrolling through his phone. “We could be listening to Bad Bunny right now. We could be thriving.”

Y/N shot him a look over her shoulder. “Touch that speaker and I’ll throw this at you.”

Joaquin grinned. Touched the speaker anyway.

Instantly, the music cut off. Replaced by reggaetón.

Y/N froze. Slowly turned around like a horror movie villain.

“Joaquin.”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What did I just say?”

“That threats of violence are foreplay?”

Before Sam could even process that, Joaquin darted out of the kitchen, sprinting across the room as Y/N launched a pillow at his head. She stood up in one fluid motion, chasing after him.

“I told you not to!”

He laughed, circling the couch. “I’m enhancing the vibe!”

She chased him halfway around the living room before he doubled back, caught her mid-lunge, and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Joaquin!” she screeched, fists pounding against his back. “PUT ME DOWN.”

“I will,” he said cheerfully, “once you admit my music taste is superior.”

“Never! I don’t even understand what they’re saying!”

Sam stood there frozen, holding the air fryer under one arm like a shield. “She’s gonna kill you, man. Actually kill you. Like, she’s got the Stark sass in her bloodline. You are so dead.”

Joaquin just danced around with her still on his shoulder, shaking his hips to the beat, grinning big.

“This is a normal Tuesday, relax,” he said, spinning with her as she screamed bloody murder and maybe—just maybe—was starting to laugh a little.

“I hate you,” Y/N gasped between giggles.

He smacked a kiss to her thigh. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Sam backed slowly toward the door, still holding the air fryer like it might explode. “I’m leaving. Y’all are unwell.”

Joaquin winked at him. “Tell the world our love is powerful.”

Y/N elbowed him in the back. “Tell the world he’s getting buried in the backyard if he plays 'Moscow Mule' again.”

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Y/N got in a mood when Joaquin didn’t answer her text right away.

So when he finally walked through the door with groceries like a normal person, Y/N was already curled up on the couch in his hoodie looking emotionally unstable.

“You forgot about me,” she said flatly, not even looking up from the blanket she was swaddled in.

Joaquin blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t respond for forty-three minutes,” she said, holding up her phone like it was evidence in a trial. “I timed it.”

“I was driving. For you. To get your snacks.”

She sniffed. “I thought you were dead. Or worse. Ignoring me.”

He set the bags down and walked toward her slowly. “You good?”

“No. I’m feeling very unloved and neglected and fragile.”

“You FaceTimed me from the bathroom while I was still at the store.”

“I was vulnerable.”

He grinned. Oh. Oh. So that’s the game they were playing.

“Mi vida,” he said, kneeling in front of her like she was on her deathbed. “Are you saying I emotionally wounded you by leaving you here for an hour?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re right. I’ve been so cruel.” He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “But if I leave you again… take me out. I won’t survive the guilt.”

Y/N stared at him. “Don’t. Don’t do the soft voice thing. I’m being dramatic. Let me be dramatic.”

“You want me to be distant to fuel the bit? Okay.” He stood up abruptly. “You’re right. Maybe I have been pulling away.”

Her eyes widened. “What.”

“I just think we’ve gotten too close, you know? Too fast. Maybe we need space.”

“JOAQUIN.”

“I’m worried we’re codependent.”

“STOP. TAKE IT BACK.”

He smirked, circling the couch now, fully committing. “Do you think we lost ourselves in each other?”

She launched a throw pillow at his head. “I will cry on purpose.”

“Good. I like it when you cry. Makes me feel needed.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m yours.”

She screamed into the pillow. “This is NOT how ragebait is supposed to go!”

“You tried to ragebait the ragebait champion. Know your place, princess.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

He flopped down beside her and tugged her into his lap, arms looping around her.

“You’re obsessed with me,” he whispered.

“I am,” she hissed back. “And I hate that for me.”

“Bet you still want forehead kisses.”

“…Shut up and do it already.”

He kissed her forehead three times in a row, obnoxiously loud.

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“And I’m only getting hotter.”

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Y/N had exactly one thing planned for the evening: an uninterrupted candlelit bath. She’d earned it—long day, annoying people. The lights were low, her bath bomb had fizzed and the water was just hot enough to sting a little.

She’d sunk in with a dramatic sigh, bubbles up to her collarbones, a glass of wine perched dangerously close to her phone.

Then, like clockwork, the bathroom door creaked open.

“I swear to god,” she muttered, not even opening her eyes. “Joaquin—”

“Heyyy,” he said cheerfully, already strolling in. “Just checking on my girl. You know. Make sure you’re alive and not drowning in your own princess foam.”

She cracked one eye open to glare at him. “I locked that door.”

He sat down fully on the closed toilet seat, grinning. “I picked it. Don’t be mad. I missed you.”

“You saw me ten minutes ago.”

“And yet—here I am. Suffering without you.”

Y/N groaned and sank lower into the water. “You’re such a pest.”

He leaned forward dramatically, elbows on knees, chin in hand. “Tell me about your day, babe.”

“No.”

“I’m your boyfriend.”

“I didn’t ask for therapy. I asked for silence.”

He dipped a hand into the water and flicked it gently at her arm.

She didn’t even flinch. “Do it again and I’ll drown you.”

He flicked again. “I like my odds.”

She turned her head, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you seriously just gonna sit there the whole time?”

“I can sit in there, if you want,” he offered innocently.

“You are the worst.”

Another splash.

“I swear—Joaquin, I am so close to—”

She paused mid threat and sighed.

“…Are you gonna get in or what?”

Joaquin lit up. “God, I love you.”

He stood and peeled off his clothes in record time, stepping into the tub behind her like he’d been waiting for that moment all day. He slid into place, wrapping his arms around her waist as she shifted forward to make room.

Now she was sitting between his legs, back against his chest, his stupid heartbeat steady and warm against her spine.

For a long moment, they were both quiet. Then:

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” she muttered. “Annoy me until I invited you in just to shut you up?”

He beamed against the side of her face. “You're so easy to break, princess. I was barely getting started.”

She snorted. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

She turned just enough to flick a bubble at his face.

He gasped. “Betrayal. In my bathtub?”

She grabbed the shampoo bottle and shoved it into his hands. “If you’re gonna invade, you’re doing labor. Wash my hair.”

He took it like it was a sacred task. “Gladly. You have the best hair in the world, by the way. It’s so soft and smells so good.”

“Stop talking.”

“But it’s true.”

“Quino.”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“…Scrub.”

He lathered up her hair, fingers surprisingly gentle. Y/N sighed, melting back into him despite herself. He hummed a dumb little tune while massaging her scalp.

Eventually, she opened one eye. “You do know I’m gonna finish this bath alone after this, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, kissing the back of her shoulder. “Just wanted to be annoying enough to get a cuddle in. Mission accomplished.”

She smiled, tiny and smug. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. A long, quiet one.

Then, softly: “You’re so annoying.”

He grinned against her shoulder. “I’m aware.”

“No, like, you drive me insane.”

“Only the best for my princess.”

She groaned, but it was hopeless. Her head tilted slightly, letting it rest against his. “…And I love you so much all the same.”

His arms tightened just a little, his smile stretching even wider. “I know you do.”

“Quino.”

He laughed, kissed the side of her head, then whispered against her temple, voice lower now. “I love you too, cariño. So much.”

She closed her eyes again, finally at peace—surrounded by bubbles, steam, and the most annoyingly perfect human she’d ever known.

And for once, she let him stay in the bath the whole time.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

author's note: my first joaquin imagine ahhhh!! this is so freaking cute i was giggling and kicking my feet writing it. he's so cute i loveee him.

also ugh, when y/n says she doesn't like bad bunny cause she doesn't understand what he's saying hurt my soul cause i'm latina LMAO

i need to write more for him, and lucky for me, i have another quino request that i'll be starting this week!!

[misayani]

someone has to say it .. and as a PROUD truther .. please give us your thoughts on bratty/sub jackie please and thank you, you are kind

thank you anon for this. sub n brat jackie coming your way <3 light nsfw

brat!jackie who gets aroused from the idea of people seeing her be so desperate for you, even after telling her to behave. can you blame the girl? the sight of you— furrowed eyebrows, jaw visibly hardening in annoyance—  was making her so wet, her cunt desperately clenching around air. 

ᯓ ➤ the both of you are currently waiting patiently for the cashier to scan the lingerie jackie picked out— well, you are waiting patiently. jackie— jackie decided to do something else. 

she's outwardly, shamelessly grinding her hips against yours. desperately trying to get that tiniest bit of friction, as her eyes stayed glued to the cashier, shooting an innocent smile towards the worker that looked like they wanted to give up on the job then and there.

your breath hitches— your right hand discreetly grabbing her waist to grip on it a little too harsh, making her freeze for a moment. "you going to behave, or should i leave you right here paying for your own stuff?" 

jackie's lips part, her eyes glinting with want. were you seriously expecting her to stop? it's jackie — jackie doesn't stop until she gets what she wants. 

thankfully, jackie detaches from your front and scoots beside you to finally behave. or so you thought. she slyly reaches for your hand, wrapping her fingers around your wrist, before guiding it lower, and lower— until your patience finally broke.

in the end, you paid for the lingerie. you payed for something you knew damn well you were going to tear off her body in a matter of seconds. but hey, it was definitely worth your money.

BRAT TAMING JACKIE TAYLOR. if someone else were to be in your place, brat taming jackie might actually be one of the worst things that ever existed in this world. if it weren't for your undying love and adoration for jackie, that girl would've been on your nerves 24/7. 

it's the way she doesn't back down. jackie likes toying with you—making efforts to think of ways to push you on the edge, acting annoyingly dumb most of the time, giving you the attitude whenever she got the chance to. she likes seeing her girlfriend all worked up. and just thinking of the things you would do to put her back in her place? it keeps her hot and going. 

ᯓ ➤ "what the fuck, jackie?!" you were dragging jackie along with you towards your parked car, before yanking her in front and letting go of her wrist. jackie furrows her eyebrows and started rubbing her wrist from how tight your grip was.

you watch her as she rolls her eyes while letting out a sharp scoff, "what?" she holds her head up high, propping her hands on her waist.

jackie was wet—literally. her top was drenched in booze shauna shipman showered her with. it was for a stupid reason. jackie just decided to act all bitchy to her bestfriend during the whole party, being loud and all, just enough to cause a scene. and to be honest? you couldn't even blame shauna for what she did.

you ironically let out snort, "what?" irritation was written all over your face. sure, jackie acts like a brat almost all of the time, you're used to it. but, it gets to a point. "you were being a total bitch to shauna for no reason!"

"hello?! she was eyeing you the whole night!" she retorts, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically. "are you dense? or maybe you're just blind. because how the hell didn't you see that way she was looking at you!"

wait what? how would you notice, when your whole attention was on jackie the whole night.

"i— i didn't see.." you murmur, trying to get hold of yourself.

jackie huffs, "course you didn't."

you sighed, "get in the car, jackie. let's go home." you stood still, waiting for her to move, but all she did was cross her arms against her chest and look at you challengingly. "no."

your jaw tightens, slowly taking a breath to try and not snap back. "please get in the car." the girl just shakes her head, holding her chin up. "i said no."

that was it. that's all that was needed for you to you lose your cool. you gripped her arm before leading her towards the passenger door. "fuck, you're going to be difficult?" your free hand reaches for the car keys from your back pocket before unlocking the door. you swing the car door open, before shoving her onto the seat. you slam the door shut, circling around the car to get to the driver's.

oh she's going to give you a hard time? you're also going to give her a hard time. the moment you both got inside the house and into your shared room (you practically dragged jackie's stubborn ass with you), you didn't spare her time for her to catch her breath. you grabbed ahold of her hair to tilt her head backwards.

jackie whines, arching her back so her body could reach you. "this is what you wanted, didn't you? huh?" you taunted, gripping her hair tighter. she quickly nods, opening her mouth to say something, only to let out a yelp when you hauled her towards the bed.

you sat down on the edge, before pushing her down and making her lay on her stomach above your legs. the damp fabric of her top pressed even harder on her skin, which made her feel sticky. "h—hey, wait—" she stutters. "shut up. i don't wanna hear anything else from you. you're going to count, you miss a number? we go back from the top, got it?" you clearly stated.

jackie lets out a soft whimper, slowly nodding her head to your demand. you softly caressed her ass, "you know your safe word baby."

spank—! "one." jackie breathes out. you smiled at her compliance, softly rubbing her skin before going again. spank—! "two—" she chokes out, her right hand reaching for her eyes to wipe away the tear that was threatening to fall. this was going to be a long night.

somnophilia with submissive jackie. the both of you had went over this, having a whole conversation about what you both can and cannot do in the relationship, setting boundaries, and having a talk about the sex. jackie consented to a lot of things, and the same goes for you.

but what mostly got her?

"—aside from that, it's also completely fine for me if you're needy while i'm asleep. i'm consenting to it." you shrug, leaning back on your hand that was propped up the backrest of the couch as you were faced sideways towards jackie. 

the fact that you just confirmed she could use you however she liked, even if you were unconscious. 

ᯓ ➤ jackie shimmies her underwear off, kicking it aside, the cotton fabric falling onto the floor. she looks at your sleeping state, noticing how some of your hair was on your face. she bites her bottom lip, crawling closer to you.

she then straddles your thigh, her hot core making contact with your bare skin. she needed this. a sigh falls from jackie's parted lips, before inhaling deeply. she's been wanting to do this—using you whenever she wanted. 

she starts moving her hips to slowly grind on your thigh. a soft moan leaves jackie's lips as she threw her head back, pressing her palms against your stomach. "mnnnhh— god"

a string of moans and praise leaves her lips, muttering how good you felt. "s'good— so good. please."

you were stirred awake. let's be honest, how could you stay asleep when your girlfriend's literally riding your thigh, no fabric separating the both of you, at two a.m. in the morning? you didn't open your eyes yet— you wanted her to continue with no shame. you tried so hard fighting back the smile that almost formed on your lips, so that you could let your girlfriend use your body to her own pleasure. it was undeniably so hot.

after feeling her body fall and shudder on top of you, you knew she came. you brought a hand up to caress her back, making jackie jolt up. "shit— you— you were awake this whole time?"

the girl got off your lap, staring at you with wide eyes. "you were so loud," you pushed yourself to sit up before running your fingers through your hair. "how could i possibly stay asleep? when you were whoring yourself out on top of me."

your expression was teasing, and it made the girl awkward— her cheeks flushed as she gulped. "i—well, you said you were fine with i—"

you cut her off by crawling closer and pressing your lips on her jaw. soft, wet kisses were planted, before you softly cooed, "mhm, i know i did darling. now be good for me and take what i give you, okay?"

𝒾. MISA'S THOUGHTS im so sorry this was lowk shitty <//3 was trying out new stuff (coughs—dom reader) thank you to the person who helped me out with a portion of this! ANDDDD !! thank you for 1 295 followers 🥹🥹 itsss crazyy amount! you're all appreciated lots 🤍.

[wallflowerwritesstuff]

Reminders

Your calendar has everything.

Except your birthday.

Caleb's Version/ Zayne's Version (you are here)/ Xavier's Version (coming soon)

Sylus's Version (coming soon)/ Rafayel's Version (coming soon)

winter dividers by tsunami-of-tears~

The door clicks shut quietly. 

The entryway is dimly lit as he removes his shoes; the lights brighten as he steps further into the apartment. He moves toward the kitchen, placing the bags on the table and noting how you were curled up into a ball on the couch with your phone in hand. A video plays on loop, no doubt the last you’d seen before losing your battle with sleep. You probably had been waiting for him to arrive despite his best efforts to have you follow a regular sleep schedule. 

Just because he ran on fumes half the time didn’t mean he wanted that for you as well. 

With a small exhale, he walks toward the couch. Kneeling, he tilts his head to get a better look at you. You are comfortable, it seems, wrapped in a blanket with another resting on top of you. His eyes slid from the top of your head downward, tracing the shape of your eyes and slope of your nose. He can't help but smile a bit at the memories that wash over him—the way your eyes would roll and your nose would scrunch when he made a joke. 

How flustered you’d grow whenever he pressed a kiss to either area, making him want to do it more until you realized such intimacy was the bare minimum for someone as amazing as you. 

Clearing his thoughts for a later time, he slips his arms beneath your sleeping form and lifts slowly, holding you close. He waits, wanting to assure you didn’t stir awake when you were finally resting peacefully. 

He made it all but three steps before you started shifting, taking in a deep inhale of his suit jacket before opening your eyes as if to confirm something. 

“Zayne?” you murmur with your voice barely above a whisper. “When did you…?” 

His lips twitch at the sight of you. He moves back toward the couch and sits down with you in his arms. You curl into him, your warmth easing the nerves the day had left him with. 

Being a surgeon didn’t mean his job ever got easier—only tolerable. 

Mechanical, almost. 

“Not long ago. I told you not to wait for me,” he answers softly, cradling your face and brushing his thumb just beneath your right eye. You make a noise that has him smiling, your breath tickling his neck as he concedes for the moment. 

“Lecturing me this late…cruel,” you huff as a chuckle escapes him. 

“You’ve seen cruel,” he says with a glint in his eye that you miss, too busy burrowing into his neck as if you wanted to seep into his very skin. You tense in his arms when he leans in, close enough to your ear that you feel goosebumps form and move down your body. “...but I can always be even more so.” 

You push him away and stare up at him with wide eyes, your body warming at his teasing. 

“You–!” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, standing with you in his arms, and walks toward the kitchen. You’re left in awe at his words as you work to calm your racing heart. 

“Now that you’re awake,” he starts, placing you on one of the stools at your kitchen island, “We can share a meal since I’m sure you didn’t have dinner.” 

Your rebuttal is cut short by your stomach betraying you with a decent growl. 

“...what’d you get?” you ask, unable to hide your interest as he removes the food from one bag. You take note of the logo, one bag from your favorite food restaurant, and the other from his favorite dessert place. Unusually, Zayne places the dessert in front of you first, the food boxes acting as decoration around it. 

“A birthday celebration that was meant to be for the morning,” Zayne says with a tilt of his head, offering you a plastic fork while opening the box to reveal your favorite dessert. “But why wait for then if we’re here now?”

You pause, squinting as you take the fork. Your attention moves between the dessert, the food, and the man watching you with an aura of calm confidence. 

“...did I forget your birthday?” you whisper in sleep-hazed horror, wondering how it could have happened, only to realize this wasn’t his birthday month. You’d never forget such an important date when it comes to the man you’d loved for longer than you could remember. 

A laugh has your heart fluttering again. Zayne places a hand on your head. 

“Happy birthday, you silly, sleep-deprived girl.” 

You blink. 

“What?” you question, patting yourself for your phone. You stand from the stool and move toward the couch where your phone rests against the pillow. You unlock it while walking back to Zayne, finding your calendar for today was empty. No plans, no reminder set….

“Not there…is it?”

Zayne’s voice pulls you from your confusion as you meet his gaze. Rather than confident, his eyes show a bit of sorrow made lighter only by the affection that lingers. 

“You have so many things going on in that mind of yours when it comes to others,” Zayne says as he steps closer, pulling the fork you still held out of your hand and placing it on the island. “Thankfully, my mind only ever has one focus. One person that everything comes back to, even at the most random of times.” 

You lean into his palm when he cups your cheek, taking a deep breath as you warm at his words. 

“You didn’t have to…” you murmur. You felt somewhat embarrassed even while knowing your birthday was more of a smoke screen than anything. The day didn’t matter so much as the company you’d once kept to celebrate it. 

Company taken from you far too soon.  

As if sensing your thoughts, Zayne presses a kiss to ease the tension in your brows. 

“I wanted to,” he says without hesitation. “Because while outside of these walls you’re known for being the great Miss Hunter…here you can just exist.”

You part your lips, finding no words managed to get past the lump in your throat. Instead, you shove your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He waits patiently, his arms mirroring your actions as strong hands rub your back in a familiar rhythm.

His heart is steady, growing louder when you turn just enough for it to vibrate near your ear.

“What if I’m not enough?” you ask, voice slightly muffled by his jacket. You hadn’t been enough, even with your Hunter skills, to save Caleb and Gran. It was why you had grown worse in your habit of overworking, often getting called the pot while Zayne was the kettle whom you told to take a break. 

Being a Hunter has become a huge part of your life and, by default, your identity. 

Without it, what were you? 

Just an anomaly gone so incredibly wrong.  

“You’ve always been enough,” Zayne insists, the shock in his tone shifting into something gentler. “Even when you were just the stranger crying outside of the hospital, only stopping when we shared old popsicles.” 

You smile a bit, expression softening when he pulls away, only to press his forehead against your own with great care. 

“Even when I made fun of your seals?” 

Zayne smiled back, his eyes creasing with growing affection. 

“An accident. And you kept them, as messy as my attempt was. Shows how kind you are.” 

You still have them, your mind corrects, thinking about where they sat on the shelf next to the newest one he’d given you. You didn’t have the heart to get rid of them, even going as far as to prevent people from touching them entirely by getting each of them a small display case. 

“You cared about the boy who didn’t know himself at all,” Zayne reminds, bumping his nose against your own. “Let the man he’s become care about you, now. Let me show you just how important you are as the person I love most.” 

You don’t speak—don’t trust yourself to, rather, just nodding your head as he presses a quick kiss to your trembling lips. You aren’t sure how long you stay together in the kitchen, wrapped in each other's arms. 

All you know is you both ruin your sleep schedules to indulge in good food and better dessert, followed by soft conversations down memory lane. 

And when you wake the next day with Zayne pressed to your back as your phone alarm goes off, you aren’t at all surprised at the new entry on your calendar, set to repeat every year indefinitely. 

[sanotymanjiro]

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 ꨄ︎

𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤

𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩

fluff, soft, set in whatever timeline the reader wants, secret crush; mikey on reader, mild swearing

⚽ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

mikey is a manchild. he is your best friend and soulmate, the boy you grew up with and the boy who has protected you, teased you, cared for you but also been a pain in your ass forcing you to spend countless nights fetching him some dorayaki dead at night because he couldn't sleep. you knock as quietly as you can covey your annoyance without waking the entire sano household up and the door instantly swings open revealing the golden haired boy with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. you fight the urge to roll your eyes and shove the bag his way ready to turn away until his hand catches your wrist.

mikey: waittt!

y/n, practically hissing: what?!

mikey, with a pleading grin: movie night please please pleaseeee?

y/n: are you mad?! u may skip school but i very much still have an 8 to 3 schedule manjiro! i'm getting no sleep at this rate!

mikey, begging: please! fine fine fine! ill...ill let you do my hair...?

and thats how you ended up in his room snuggled together with an assortment of coloured hair ties and accessories in your lap with spirited away rolling in the back at a low volume. you brush his golden locks using your portable hairbrush smiling to yourself as you lean down to sniff it since it smells like your favourite shampoo when you were a child, baby johnson's. you had teased mikey for using it at his big age of 15 but every time he would pout and explain how it was the only thing that isn't damaging and even try to force you to use it just to prove his point, he had a serious fear of going bald in the future and you once caught him trying to generate himself as a bald on man on ai which had you dying of laughter while he whined in embarrassment.

mikey: owww- hss- ow! slow down y/n!!

y/n: stop being a baby i'm done, i'm done...

after untangling the knots in his hair you split it down the middle and gather it into two small pon-pons before sliding a baby blue hair tie with a bow attached to hold them in place, smiling to yourself at how cute it looked while applying some white clips to his bangs.

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐯:

mikey pretended to watch the movie but the mirror on his closet opposite him reflecting your joyful face wouldn't let him. his fingers fidgeted with the covers of his bed which you had bought him as a gift claiming his room was too plain and mature, his eyes darting to the gentle curve of your jaw in the warm light flowing from the bedside lamp. manjiro had always found you cute, sure you were bratty, nagging, extremely stubborn and persistent and maybe sometimes annoying but your cuteness won all of that ten times over, and mikey was one of the few to notice it. the way you tilt your head to check the sides of his hair, the way your tongue would peek out when you were focused, the soothing motion of your fingers as they brushed his hair over and over thanks to your perfectionist nature, the light of satisfaction that would swirl in your eyes when you were finally pleased with the result; two cute ponytail sort pon-pons with baby blue bows, white clips and a small butterfly clip right on the top of his hair.

mikey couldn't understand why you were so proud of making him look like a walking clown but that didn't matter because he got to see your smile, he got to see you happy and that mattered most of all. before he even notices theres a gentle smile etched onto his lips like second nature and the movie is forgotten completely.

it hurt like hell whenever you would tug too hard at his locks or brush through a knot but if he could watch you like this without you noticing that was all he could ever want not because he didn't want to confess, but because he wanted to make sure that when he does, he'll no longer be the manchild he is now, but the reliable man of your dreams.

2025 @sanotymanjiro

tags (for everyone who enjoyed bubble baths): @dolledupformanjiro | @tetsuyuuuuuuu | @artsjiwoo | @mikeysgf1 | @natsumis-stuff | @katsukisat0 | @dancingnewcat | @whyme287 | @destinyfleur | @banana-revenge | @bebacebe | @mikeys-therapy | @peensas | @afterunigoths | @skr1mps | @beetusbritt | @dollrndo | @yourbabydolllll | @cherry-blossom5 | and anyone else!

[zazslemma]

“Pour your sadness into me and I will drink from the well like a man dying of thirst”

Bob Reynolds x Reader, soft!void x reader

summary : The Void comforts you after a nightmare

-On my personal quest to bring back yearning. I wrote this as fem!reader but it ended up pretty gender neutral

cw: mental health struggles & mentions of sleeping pills, some angst, hurt/comfort, yearning

~

The nights were the worst. During the day you could distract yourself from the incessant pain and memories with training and the team but at night the familiar loneliness would come creeping back in and there was no one to save you. Till you had met Bob, a kindred soul who understood the pain and fears you experienced. It was strictly platonic - that's what you told yourself at least, you wished and pined over him like a damn schoolgirl most of the time but you weren't willing to lose your one tether to sanity by admitting it. 

It had been going on for months now, whenever one of you had a nightmare you would go to the other's room seeking comfort (which happened every night). He had been the one to bring it up today during the two of your customary post-dinner reading session. 

“Maybe… we could try just sleeping in the same bed” Bob said in the most casual way he could force, he had been thinking about it for weeks and had been practicing all week to try and actually get the words out.

“Just to see if it helps, not having to walk down the hall” he quickly tacked on.

You looked up from the trashy sci-fi novel you were reading and met his eyes as the faintest blush started creeping up his face and gave him a soft smile, the one that you reserved for him “sure, might as well give it a shot” you said softly, as if you could take the words back if they came out too embarrassingly if you spoke soft enough. 

One of the first things Bob noticed about you when you joined the team was how you spoke, alternating between speaking so softly that it couldn't be heard if he wasn't listening for it and louder than average. It appeared to have no rhyme or reason to him for the volume change and you seemed oblivious to the difference, leading to Bob having to interject for you at team dinners quite often since only he heard the words you spoke at times. 

You were still smiling at him when he quickly averted his eyes back to the self help book he was reading and made a hum of confirmation.

You started the ritual of preparing for bed, everything had an order in which to be done for maximising your chance of sleep. That's what you told yourself, at least. The reality was that you had no control over your life, you had no control over when you went on missions (or didn’t go), felt like you had no control over your power, and no control of your sleep. So you would take your sleeping pills that didn't help, then shower and imagine the water was washing all the sins away, do your over the top skin care routine, then promptly have a crash out where you re-lived every horrible thing you had messed up ever. 

Thankfully Bob entered your room during the skincare step and not the crash out phase. You heard the three soft knocks that he always used to ask for permission to enter your room and abandoned your vanity with your face covered in a green clay mask to open the door for him.

The soft light of your room made him even more breathtaking with his shaggy brown hair and eyes so dark blue they looked brown most times, you felt your breath hitch as you stared before gesturing to your bed and heading back to the vanity to try and get a hold on your traitorous pounding heart. 

“Thanks for letting me stay” he said as he settled down on your bed, the side closest to the door. He knew you didn’t like sleeping on the side nearest to the door as it made you feel exposed. Sometimes it was nice to just be your protector, at night he was just Bob, your closest companion and he could pretend that you two were a normal couple. His once innocent crush had bloomed into an all consuming desire with the idea of the two of you together filling his thoughts. He would bring it up one day, maybe once you both were more stable but for now he was happy with the stolen glances, late night cuddles, and endless conversations you had only with him. It filled him with a sense of pride to know that you were so comfortable with him that you would speak about everything and nothing at all with him. 

You returned after rinsing the mask off and moisturizing, settling into the space beside him with the familiarity of a long married couple.

“Anytime, Bob” you spoke earnestly.

“You know there is a special screening of the original Blade Runner tomorrow night at that theater you like.” The words flowed from Bob before he could hold them back as he gazed at your soft face with you scooting closer to rest your head on his chest as a few stray strands of your hair tickled his neck.

“oooh really? we should go, i’ve been craving popcorn with way too much butter.” you whispered into his chest.

“Sounds like a date.” Bob spoke the words softly like you were a deer ready to bolt, but in actuality he was the nervous one as you hmm’d in confirmation into his chest which allowed him to let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He flicked the bedside lamp off and pulled you closer, intertwining your legs and smelling the faint scent of your conditioner as he drifted off to a rare peaceful sleep.

Your peaceful sleep was very rudely interrupted by the vivid feeling of drowning as you tried to claw your way out of your nightmare, the shapes all formless with no distinct memory tied to them but an intense feeling of dread and suffocation in their place. An unfortunate side effect of the medication was the intensified feelings in exchange for lack of specific nightmares to lament over. 

You gasped and clawed at your own throat relishing in the cool air of your room before immediately burying your face into Bob’s sweatshirt while blinking away the tears in the dark. The fabric cool and soft like silk against ice, grounding you. Typically Bob was your own personal furnace radiating the heat of a thousand suns as you had joked many times with him but tonight he felt distinctly cooler. You felt his hand come up and cradle the back of your head as you let out a single sob.

“my little star, you burn too bright and you may blink out of existence” he murmured into your hair. 

You pulled back, about to apologize for waking him up with your cry when you realized it wasn’t Bob speaking to you or holding you, it was the Void, the same body as Bob covered in an inky layer of the darkest night with flickering edges as if his body could barely contain the shadows within. 

You left out a little “oh” sound as the thought crossed your mind.

“Do not worry, he is sleeping but I could not leave you to suffer alone little star”

Your face grew warm at the term of endearment Void used, you had not met void fully before, oftentimes you could see him flickering and watching behind Bob’s eyes at night when you held him after a nightmare but that was as far as he would emerge, till now.

“I’m sorry for waking you, do you want me to stop touching you?” you asked as you started to back up not wanting to invade his space, you and Bob were quite cuddly but you didn’t know if that preference extended to his other half.

“You did not wake me, I was already watching you. And no I do not.” he spoke as he pulled you even closer, your eyes meeting the twinkles of light where his eyes were.

You nodded as you let out another ragged breath, the momentary shock at voids appearance dissipating as the feeling of your nightmare returned. One hand of his was cradling your head still while the other began rubbing small circles on your back.

“Shhh my little star. Pour your sadness into me and I will drink from the well like a man dying of thirst.” he whispered as the sobs began to wrack your chest.

All of the pent up feelings spilling out of you like water boiling over and out of a kettle. Your hands fisted in his sweater as the tears dripped down your face and onto him, each one making a tiny ripple in the shadows that formed him like raindrops into a puddle. You imagined each drop had your pain, anxiety, fears, self hatred, and shame inside and as they left you were purified like water falling from a cloud to be reborn as something new.

After a few minutes you began to feel the tension drain from your crying form,

“sorry about that” you murmured into his chest, too ashamed to look at him for fear of the judgement you thought you might encounter from the being that shared the face of the man you loved. 

“Do not be sorry, a stars nature is to burn bright” he spoke as he pulled your head back so he could see the red rims of your eyes, always so expressive. “I am here to damp down the flames so you do not burn out.”

Void heard all of Bob’s thoughts about you and always made it a point to pay attention from behind Bob’s eyes when you were present. He saw the way the others thought you were hard to understand but they didn’t pay attention the way he did, to him you were an open book that wore your heart on your sleeve. Your eyes always betrayed your true feelings on a matter and right now they were looking at him like he had hung the moon for you. And god knows he would do it for you if you asked him.

“Thank you” you spoke so softly it could have been the wind.

“Sleep, my star. I will be here the next time you need me”

You let the last bit of tension drain out of you as his hand continued stroking your back and you drifted off for the best sleep you have had in years with the darkness of the universe cradling you.

~

A/N: This is my first fic so hopefully it's not terrible lol. My psychiatrist just doubled my SSRI dose and I felt compelled to torture you all with my disjointed ramblings in return. Also my religious guilt knows no end so why not compare living water with a well of sadness.. Idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (if for some reason you like my writing pls send me a request :))