#he lookin so soft n dangerous

[hsnlv]

caught! | y.jw

pairing: boyfriend!jungwon x reader

teaser: “so, angel,” jungwon said, his voice dangerously soft, “if i’m your first boyfriend… how do you know how to shave a guy?”

others: jungwon is visibly manly in this one and im soooo in love w manly jungwon!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: have you guys ever seen tha clip from one of jungwon’s live where you can see his upper lips facial hair that started to grow?? BEAUTIFUL😵‍💫 this is defo inspired by that live keke😖 here’s my masterlist!

“baby, can you help me shave?” jungwon asked, handing you his razor with an expectant look. you couldn’t help but notice the faint shadow of his moustache, barely visible but still pricking his soft skin. knowing jungwon, he probably hated the sight of it—he always shaved at the first sign of facial hair.

you took the razor from him, smiling giddily. “of course, uwon!” hopping onto the bathroom sink, you faced him, legs dangling on either side of his waist. moments like this made your heart flutter—being so close to him, feeling his warmth, catching the faint scent of his cologne that you’d recognize anywhere.

“don’t forget the shaving cream,” he murmured, his tone slightly teasing.

“uwon, let me handle this,” you said confidently, reaching for the cream. he just arched a brow but stayed silent, his lips pressing into a playful pout as you carefully lathered his face. your fingers worked gently, spreading the cream over his soft skin, humming to yourself as you did.

you guys are this close whenever you do his skincare or face masks. and normally, jungwon would hum along with you or tease you for singing off-key, but today, he was strangely quiet. you glanced up, your brows furrowing. “what’s wrong?” you asked, tilting your head.

he wiped the cream from his lips with a tissue, setting it aside before his hand settled on your thigh, squeezing gently. the warmth of his palm sent little sparks through you, but his expression… something about it made your stomach twist.

“angel baby,” he said, his voice soft yet firm, a tone he rarely used. the way he said your favorite nickname made your heart skip, though there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—curiosity, maybe? you hummed in response, but your pulse quickened.

“you told me i was your first boyfriend, didn’t you?” he tilted his head slightly, studying you. his voice wasn’t accusing, but the question hung heavy in the air.

your heart dropped to your stomach. “uh, yeah…?” you answered hesitantly, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

jungwon’s brow arched higher. “then how do you know how to shave a guy?”

your mind went blank. oh no. oh no, no, no.

okay, to be fair, it’s not like you wanted to lie to him like that. but you clearly remember during your talking stage with him, he had said that he preferred a girl who was never in a relationship before, with the reason that he could show her how love is actually like.

“uh, well, i mean… i helped my brother before,” you stammered, trying to sound convincing.

jungwon’s lips quirked up ever so slightly, his fingers drumming gently against your thigh. “you don’t have a brother.”

“uh, my dad?” you tried again, forcing a sheepish smile.

“your dad doesn’t even have facial hair,” he countered, leaning in slightly, his tone dangerously soft. “and, if i recall, he’s bald.”

“im pretty sure it’s not much of a different if i shave myself…?” okay that was nasty but whatever it is to make sure he didn’t catch your lie.

“pretty sure?” his voice was too confident, it made your walls of lies crumbled down right upon him. your pout deepened at his chuckle.

“baby, just tell me the truth.” his hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“did you have a boyfriend before me?” his voice was gentler now, but the seriousness in his eyes made your heart race.

you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you nodded. “…yeah.”

jungwon stared at you for a moment, his face completely unreadable. you braced yourself for his reaction, but instead of scolding or looking upset, he laughed. soft at first, then louder, until he was clutching his stomach, his head tilting back.

“baby,” he said between laughs, wiping the corner of his eye. “you thought i’d actually care about that? seriously?”

you blinked at him, cheeks burning. “but you said—”

“i said i prefer someone who hasn’t dated before, not that i need it or care about it,” he cut you off, grinning at you. “you’re so dramatic. it’s adorable.”

you pouted, crossing your arms. “i just wanted to be perfect for you.”

jungwon’s grin softened, his hand cupping your cheek. “you’re already perfect, angel. even when you’re lying terribly.”

“it wasn’t that bad!” you protested, half-heartedly swatting at his chest.

“it was awful,” he teased, pulling you closer by your waist. “your bald dad? your imaginary brother? i almost wanted to let you keep digging just to see what else you’d come up with.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “stop making fun of me!”

“never,” he said smugly, tugging your hands away to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “but seriously, baby, don’t lie to me about stuff like that. i hate liars. and, i don’t care who you dated before me. i just care that you’re with me now.”

his words melted away the embarrassment, leaving nothing but warmth. “i was just scared,” you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to your hands. “you told me you wanted someone who hadn’t been in love before. i was so in love with you, uwon, and i wanted to be everything you dreamed of.”

jungwon’s expression softened even more as he rested his forehead against yours. “you are, baby. even if you’ve been in love before, it doesn’t change the fact that i’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you now.”

you smiled shyly, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater. “you’re not mad?”

“mad? no. jealous? absolutely. very much,” he said, fixing you with a dramatic, intense gaze.

“you’ve shaved someone else before me? wow, i feel so betrayed,” he added, raising his hands in mock surrender, his tone exaggerated just enough to make you panic.

“uwon, baby! i’m sorry!” you whined, your voice filled with guilt.

his giggle broke through the tension, and you glared at him with a pout. he leaned forward, booping your nose lightly. “i’m kidding, baby,” he said with a grin.

“you’re the worst,” you muttered under your breath.

“and you’re the best,” he shot back smoothly, leaning closer to nuzzle his nose against yours. “now, can we finish this? or are you going to tell me you’ve shaved some random celebrity next?”

“you’re so annoying,” you huffed, grabbing the razor again.

“and you love me,” he teased, his grin so wide it made your heart flutter.

as much as you wanted to argue, you couldn’t deny it.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[hoffmansgirl]

a freaky doctor Charlie maybe he is being a little bit touch with y/n

sittin' & lookin' pretty ꫂ ၴႅၴ dr. charlie mayhew x fem!reader

𝓝ote: thank you for the request, anon, i hope you like it! as always feedback is deeply appreciated ♡

𝓦arnings: nsfw content ahead! ━ pure smut,, daddy kink, cōckwarming, needy reader, unprotected piv

"stop fucking moving", charlie hissed, gripping your hips tightly. his fingers pressed into your skin, hard enough to leave marks, and you whined.

you were sat on charlie's lap in his office as he went through his medical journals, thumbing at the pages, not even looking in your direction. you were so needy, so desperate for him to fuck you when all he wanted was to finish the god damn paperwork.

so he took his hard cock out of his pants, lifted your skirt up and pulled your panties to the side. his fingers swirled around your clit expertly, letting the wetness cover them completely. you lowered yourself on his long cock, moaning at the stretch of his impressive length inside of you. but when you tried to move up and down in search of relief, he held you down, pressing a soft kiss on your neck, as he focused on his work once again.

"keep me nice and warm while i'm working, can you, doll?" he whispered softly, thumbs tracing soft circles on your thighs, as your pussy clamped down on him, pulsing with need.

"need you, daddy", you mumbled, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses on his exposed neck. you breathed him in, the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, a soft moan escaping your mouth. his cock throbbed inside of you, and your back arched, your perky nipples hardening with excitement, begging for attention.

"you just can't wait, can you? such a naughty girl, distracting me when i'm at work, sendin' me these slutty pictures" he cooed, fingers tracing over your curves softly, and he shifted on his seat slightly, hips bucking up just slightly. you shuddered, tears in your eyes as he hit just the right spot, pussy gripping to him tightly, deep growl leaving his throat.

"i'm sorry, daddy. need you so bad" she touched his face softly, tracing over his sharp jawline. "please, just fuck me. i'm gonna be a good girl for you, i promise", she begged, pouting her lips slightly, looking up at him from under her long lashes.

charlie laughed quietly, flicking his thumbs over your nipples slowly, the sensation making her head spin as you soaked his pants, his cock pressing against your g spot with every single move of his body.

"don't worry doll, i'm gonna fuck you full of my cum, yeah? and you're gonna take it, every single drop", his voice dangerously low as he moved his hips upwards slightly. you cried out, holding onto his forearms, legs spreading mindlessly. "you're gonna get it if you let me finish. my. job. now, sit fucking still" he growled, hands leaving your body all at once, and you whined quietly, pressing your face against his neck tightly.

you were in for a very long night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

@ hoffmansgirl, 21/10/24. do not repost, copy or translate.

[holdmytesseract]

... what the future holds ...

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: One look at Maggie's ultrasound picture is enough to question your future - and Daryl's...

Warnings: fluff, suggestive smut (it gets really spicy), talks of babies

Set in Season 6!

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Lil' story is done! This was planned to be a drabble, but well... 😆 I love how it turned out, though!

Right up your alley, @dixons-sunshine ? 🤗

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist

The van jolted softly underneath your body, as you leaned against Daryl, who was sitting beside you; head resting against his shoulder. You were on the verge of sleeping in, when he suddenly gently squeezed your upper arm with the hand he had wrapped around your shoulders. Tiredly, you lifted your head and looked up to him; blinking. Daryl didn't say a word and just nodded at his hand, who held out a little quadratic picture to you.

Sitting up a bit, you took from Daryl's whatever it was he was handing you. Since you had been on the threshold to dreamland, your brain needed a moment to catch up and grasp what you were looking at...

It was an ultrasound picture.

Lifting your gaze, you were met with a smile from Glenn, who sat opposite you. You couldn't help but to smile back at your friend, before you took another proper look at the picture - at the future. You positively couldn't wait for another wonder after Judith to join the big family everybody had grown into. Sure, the world was dangerous, but had it ever not been dangerous? Of course in different kinds of ways, but nevertheless...

You ran your thumb over the picture; so engrossed in the miracle you were looking at, that you didn't notice Daryl watching you. He saw the never-ceasing smile on your lips. The happiness radiating off of you. The shimmer in your eyes - and perhaps, the archer had detected something else... Longing. Something that threw him quite a bit off track and caused his heartbeat to quicken.

You took a last look on the precious, life-changing picture and handed it on to Abraham, who took it from you with a small smile himself. Then you slid back into Daryl's embrace; resting you head against his shoulder once more. This time, though, you were facing him with a smile. One corner of your boyfriend's mouth twitched up into a soft smile as well.

Words were never exchanged. He just gave you another squeeze and pulled you closer.

The first word you spoke with each other was that night after the meeting Rick had convened. It was already quite late; almost midnight.

You were laying in bed and reading a book; secretly watching Daryl undress. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped out of his shoes and jeans with a grunt - and you noticed immediately that the feeling you already harboured in the church was resurfacing... Something was on his mind. You just couldn't pinpoint what it was – yet...

Once undressed to his black underpants, he slipped inside the bed and underneath the sheets; making himself comfortable beside you on his back, hands crossed behind his head and eyes directed at the ceiling.

You watched him for another moment in silence, before you decided to make your move. Putting the book aside, you slowly inched closer and placed a hand on his cheek; letting his scruff tickle your palm, as you propped your chin up on his biceps. "Daryl... What's bothering you, huh? Tell me." "Nothin'. 'S jus'..." The archer shook his head slightly, before his blue-grey eyes settled on yours. "I... I saw the way yer were lookin' at tha' picture..."

You frowned a little bewildered. "You mean Maggie's ultrasound picture?" Daryl nodded; chewing on his lower lip. You raised an eyebrow and smiled softly. "Why? How was I looking at the picture?" You saw the love of your life swallowing hard; trying to scrape all his bravery together and say the word out loud.

"Longingly. Ya looked at tha' picture longingly, 'n..." He stopped to take a deep breath. "N now I ain't gettin' that damn thought outta ma head." "Which thought?" You asked as you gazed deeply into his eyes; trying to read him.

"Tha'... Tha' yer might, uh, wan' this, too..." The archer finally said; gnawing on his thumb now. "I-I mean settlin' down, 'n, uh... Start a family..." His voice was barely above a whisper and his cheeks held a deep crimson colour. He avoided your eyes; breaking eye contact.

As for you, you felt like your heart had just skipped several beats. Not just one... "Wha'?" You almost croaked out. "Y-You mean... Having a-a baby?" Daryl nodded hesitatingly. "Yeah, uh, would ya... Would ya wan' tha'?" "Would you?" You shot immediately back; not answering his question.

Once again was the man biting his lip; the gears in his head turning - you could tell. After a long moment of silence, he shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Dunno, darlin'. I... 'M not exactly daddy material, ya know. 'S not in ma nature. Didn't have a good role model after all..." "I have to stop you right here, Dar..." You shook your head and moved to prop yourself up on your elbow; palm gliding from Daryl's cheek, down his neck and stopping on his chest. "You haven't noticed, have you?"

The archer blinked; clearly not following your words. "Notice wha'?"

A soft smile spread over your face. "How good you are with Judith. How sweet and caring. You're perfect daddy material, Dar... In my opinion anyways."

Daryl said nothing, was apparently speechless. He just looked at you for an seemingly endless moment, before he found his voice again. "Ya never answered ma question, Y/N..." He whispered. "Would ya wan' tha'?" Your eyelids fluttered as a blush crept on your cheeks. "I-I... Yes. I always... wanted kids." Your boyfriend swallowed hard; deft, calloused fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. "A'right, lemme rephrase tha'..." He said and took a deep breath; voice trembling slightly. "Would ya... Would ya wan' tha' with... with me?"

Once again tugged a smile at the corners of your mouth; your eyes gazing deeply into Daryl's as your fingertips gently caressed the skin on his chest. "Daryl... I wouldn't want that with any other man in this world. Only you. There has always been only you." "Yeah?" Daryl croaked out. "Ya ain't jus' sayin' that so I dun feel bad?" You couldn't help but giggle and shake your head again. "No, you sweet idiot. I'm not. I really would want that with you. I love you, Daryl."

The archer lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear; the other landing on your hip. "Yeah, I love ya, too." You smiled and dipped your head to slot your lips perfectly against his; kissing him leisurely. Only a few seconds passed, before Daryl's other hand travelled to your hips as well; biceps bulging softly as he pulled you closer, until you ended up on top of him. Both bare legs straddling his sides and lips still connected.

Soon enough started Daryl's hands to wander once more and slipped underneath your sleep t-shirt; feeling your soft skin underneath his palms - and that was the moment you pulled back from the kiss, before this went any further.

The archer's hands immediately stilled on your ribs; mere inches away from the swell of your breasts as you silently stopped this. Blue-grey eyes looked up at you; clouded with desire, love, worry and a touch of insecurity. "Everythin' a'righ', darlin'?" Daryl's husky voice urged to your ears. You nodded and twisted your bottom lip between your teeth, as you sat back on your heels - and Daryl's crotch, which caused a low grunt to escape his lips, alongside a muttered curse. "Damnit, woman..." "You never answered my question either, Dar," you prompted; completely ignoring the obvious and instead tracing the tattoos on his chest with the tip of your pointer finger. "Would you want to start a family? With me?"

The man underneath you clearly had a hard time focusing and setting his thoughts straight, but once he did, another soft blush spread across his cheeks. "W-Well, if, uh, if tha's somethin' ya wish for, I-" You shook your head and pressed your pointer finger against his lips; shushing him. "Uh.Uh. I asked what you want. This isn't just about me."

Daryl just looked at you again, then started to nod softly. "I won't lie to ya, darlin'... The mere thought of becomin' a daddy scares the shit outta me, but... Yeah... Yeah, I can imagine startin' a family with ya." "You sure about that, Dar? You don't just say that to please me?" You teased him, just like he did earlier. The archer just scoffed. "Nah. I mean it." You couldn't help but giggle and lean down to kiss his nose - what interpreted the archer as an invitation to catch your lips with his.

Daryl smiled; fingertips starting to map out the dips and curves of you body once again. When he reached the back of your bare calves, he stopped and gently nudged his nose against yours; breaking the kiss you shared. "Does tha' mean we, uh, start tryin' for a baby now?" You shrugged your shoulders and gave his sides a little squeeze with your legs. "You tell me."

Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @sweetz1919 @0-aubrie0 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. VALENTINE’S DAY !

⤷ FLUFF ﹫ valentine’s special ﹫ multiple

⌗ katsuki, kirishima, denki, shoto, keigo

⚠︎ fluff, jealousy (katsuki) .ᐟ.ᐟ

The halls of U.A. were buzzing with excitement as students exchanged chocolates, gifts, and heartfelt confessions. You weren’t the biggest fan of overly public displays of affection, but today was different—it was Valentine’s Day, and you had a certain explosive blonde boyfriend who, despite his brash nature, had a softer side reserved just for you.

You had been dating Katsuki Bakugo for a while now, and though he wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, you knew he cared. He showed it in his own way—walking you home, making sure you ate enough, and protecting you in battle without hesitation. But today, he had gone out of his way to surprise you.

You were heading to your locker when suddenly, a firm yet familiar hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you into an empty classroom. You barely had time to react before the door clicked shut behind you.

“Katsu—?”

“Shut up for a sec,” he muttered, cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he dug into his pocket.

Your heart pounded in anticipation. Bakugo wasn’t one for grand gestures, and he especially hated anything that would make him the subject of teasing from his friends. But when he pulled out a small velvet box and a bouquet of deep red roses, your breath hitched.

“You better not laugh,” he grumbled, shoving the roses into your hands. “Here. I know you like this kinda shit.”

Your eyes widened as you took the flowers, the sweet scent filling your senses. “Katsuki… these are beautiful!”

He clicked his tongue, looking away as he popped open the small box to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a small charm—your initial intertwined with his.

“Got this, too,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured you’d like it, so… whatever.”

Your heart melted at his flustered demeanor. “Oh my god, I love it!” Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffened for a moment before relaxing into your embrace, resting his chin on top of your head. “Tch, don’t get all sappy on me now,” he grumbled, though the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

You pulled back slightly and cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed back, albeit roughly, his hand gripping your waist possessively before he pulled away with a scoff.

“Turn around, dumbass. Lemme put it on you.”

You obediently turned, lifting your hair as he fastened the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Once he was done, you turned back around, your hand touching the charm.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly.

A smug smirk played on his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before those idiots come lookin’ for us.”

With your hand in his, you walked back out into the hallway, making your way to your locker. Students were still milling about, exchanging gifts and talking about their Valentine’s plans.

When you reached your locker, you carefully placed the roses inside, but as you did, your eyes caught something unexpected—a folded piece of paper resting on the shelf.

Your brows furrowed as you picked it up. “What’s this?”

Bakugo, standing beside you, peered over your shoulder. “Dunno. Open it.”

You unfolded the note, and your heart skipped a beat as your eyes scanned the words written in elegant handwriting.

Dear Y/N,

I’ve admired you for so long, and I couldn’t let Valentine’s Day pass without telling you how amazing you are. You’re kind, strong, and beautiful, and I wish I had the courage to tell you this in person. No matter what, I just want you to know that you deserve the best. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Your stomach twisted, and you could practically feel the air crackling with tension beside you.

“The hell is this?” Bakugo’s voice was low and dangerous.

You turned to look at him, and if looks could kill, the entire hallway would’ve exploded. His ruby-red eyes were dark with fury as he snatched the letter from your hands, scanning it again, his grip tightening with each passing second.

“Who the fuck wrote this?” he growled.

You swallowed nervously and tried not to laugh. “I… I don’t know.”

Bakugo crumpled the letter in his fist, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack. “Some extra thinks they can confess to my girl? They’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.”

You placed a hand on his chest while holding your laugh, trying to calm him. “Katsuki, I—”

“No. This isn’t fuckin’ happening.” His arm wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you close. “You’re my girl. Don’t need some shitty love letter from some coward who can’t even say it to your face.”

You sighed but chuckled, cupping his cheek. “Of course, I’m your girlfriend.”

He huffed but visibly relaxed under your touch. “Damn right.”

Before you could say anything else, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“Yo, what’s with the angry look, Bakugo? Someone steal your girl?”

You turned to see Denki and Kirishima approaching, Denki grinning like he was about to tease the hell out of Bakugo.

Bakugo shot them a deadly glare, stuffing the crumpled letter into his pocket. “Shut the hell up before I blast your dumb face off.”

Denki raised his hands in surrender, but Kirishima looked between the two of you, noticing your new necklace. “Whoa, did Bakugo get that for you?”

Your face warmed, and Bakugo scoffed. “Yeah, so what?”

Denki smirked. “Aw, look at you being all romantic. Didn’t know you had it in you, man.”

Bakugo growled, sparks popping from his palm. “Say another word and I’ll end you.”

You giggled, squeezing Bakugo’s hand. “Come on, Katsu. Let’s go.”

With one last glare at Denki, Bakugo led you down the hall, his grip on your hand tight, his possessiveness evident.

The soft hum of students chatting filled the classroom as the lesson dragged on. You were tapping your pen against your notebook absentmindedly, stealing occasional glances at the clock. Just a few more minutes until class ended, and you could finally enjoy the rest of Valentine’s Day.

As you turned your attention back to your notes, something small and folded landed on your desk. Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity, and you glanced around to see if the teacher had noticed. When you looked to your side, Kirishima Eijiro was avoiding eye contact, his face dusted with a light pink blush as he scratched the back of his head.

Smiling to yourself, you unfolded the note under your desk.

Hey, Y/N!

Wanna go out with me after class? I, uh, have something planned, and I really hope you’ll like it. Just nod if you’re in!

You bit your lip to suppress a grin before looking at him. His crimson eyes darted to yours nervously, as if bracing himself for rejection. Trying not to giggle at how adorable he was, you nodded enthusiastically.

His reaction was priceless—his face brightened instantly, his sharp teeth peeking through as he beamed at you, barely holding back a celebratory fist pump.

The rest of class felt like forever, both of you sneaking excited glances at each other. When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things quickly and practically bounced over to Kirishima’s desk.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light with excitement.

He laughed nervously, rubbing his hands on his pants as he stood up. “Y-Yeah! Let’s go!”

Despite his usual confidence, you could tell he was on edge. You knew how much this day meant to him—your first Valentine’s Day together. Kirishima wasn’t the type to half-ass anything, so he’d no doubt spent a lot of time planning something special.

He led you outside, his warm hand wrapping around yours as he guided you through the streets of Musutafu. The February air was crisp, but the excitement in your heart made it easy to ignore the cold.

After a few minutes, you arrived in front of a small, cozy café you had mentioned wanting to try weeks ago. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“You remembered?” you asked, turning to him with a touched expression.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Of course I did! I know you were excited about it, so I thought… well, it’d be the perfect place for today.”

Your heart melted. “You’re the best, Eiji.”

His blush deepened, and he grinned, quickly opening the door for you. “Ladies first!”

The café was warm and inviting, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries filling the air. The two of you found a quiet table by the window, and you couldn’t help but admire how much effort he had put into this.

As you both browsed the menu, Kirishima fidgeted, tapping his fingers against the table. When the waiter came over, he got so flustered trying to order that he accidentally knocked over the sugar jar.

Your eyes widened, but instead of being embarrassed, you let out a soft chuckle, covering your mouth. “Relax, Eiji. It’s just sugar.”

He groaned, running a hand through his spiky hair. “Ugh, I just don’t wanna mess this up. It’s our first Valentine’s together, and I want it to be perfect.”

You reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “It is perfect, because it’s you. Clumsy or not, I love spending time with you.”

His eyes softened as he squeezed your hand, a lopsided smile forming. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

After placing your orders, the two of you talked and laughed, time slipping by effortlessly. Kirishima relaxed more with every passing moment, his nervous energy replaced by his usual enthusiasm.

When the food arrived, he practically inhaled his dessert, getting a bit of whipped cream on his nose in the process.

You giggled. “Eiji, you’ve got—”

“Huh?” He blinked at you, confused.

Shaking your head fondly, you leaned forward and wiped the cream off with your thumb before licking it off. “Got it.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he choked on his drink. “Y-Y/N! You can’t just—!”

You laughed at his reaction. “You’re too tense, relax!”

“Not so manly from me,” he mumbled, pouting slightly as he recovered.

After finishing your drinks, Kirishima’s demeanor shifted again—nervous, but determined. He reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around something.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at you, his usual fiery confidence battling with his nerves. “Okay, so… I, uh, got you something.”

You tilted your head. “You did? Eiji, you didn’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to,” he said firmly, before pulling out a small black box and placing it on the table between you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at it. “Eijiro…”

“Open it,” he urged, shifting in his seat.

With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the lid to reveal a gorgeous silver ring with a small gemstone embedded in it—the same color as his eyes.

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful…”

Kirishima exhaled, rubbing his neck. “I saw it and thought of you. I know it’s not, like, an engagement ring or anything—but it’s a promise, y’know? That I’ll always be here for you. That no matter what, I’ll have your back.”

Your vision blurred slightly as your heart swelled with affection. “Eiji…”

Before he could get any more nervous, you reached across the table, grabbing his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. He let out a surprised noise but quickly melted into it, his large hands cupping yours.

When you pulled away, your eyes shimmered. “I love it. And I love you.”

His face lit up with pure joy, his sharp teeth showing in the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “I love you too, Y/N!”

Slipping the ring onto your finger, you admired how perfectly it fit. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers, your heart brimming with happiness.

This was, without a doubt, the best Valentine’s Day ever.

The morning of Valentine’s Day started with a text—no, scratch that, a flood of texts.

Denki [6:45 AM]: BABE WAKE UP

Denki [6:46 AM]: IT’S VALENTINE’S DAYYYYYY

Denki [6:46 AM]: Get ready, because I’m about to make you feel like the luckiest girl alive!

Denki [6:47 AM]: And also I may or may not need help carrying something

You blinked at your phone, groaning as you rolled over. You weren’t even out of bed yet, and Denki was already in full hyper mode.

You [6:49 AM]: What did you do?

A minute later, another text came through.

Denki [6:50 AM]: Nothing bad! Just something AWESOME. Be outside in ten ;)

You sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Denki always had this chaotic yet endearing energy, and you had a feeling whatever he had planned was going to be a lot. You quickly got dressed in your U.A. uniform, brushed your hair, and hurried outside.

What you saw made your jaw drop.

Standing at your doorstep, grinning like a fool, was Denki Kaminari, holding—no, STRUGGLING to hold—a massive teddy bear, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, a small, elegant box, and an entire bag of fancy chocolates.

“TA-DAAAAA!” he announced, nearly toppling over as the bear wobbled in his grip. He quickly steadied himself, flashing you his usual electric grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

You gawked at him, your eyes darting between the absurdly large stuffed bear, the flowers, the chocolates, and the tiny velvet box in his hand.

“Baby…” you started, eyes wide, “This is—this is so much!”

“I know, right?” He beamed proudly. “I may have gone a little overboard, but like, it’s our first real Valentine’s Day together, so I had to go big! You deserve it!”

You ran a hand through your hair, still staring at the pile of gifts. The teddy bear was practically half your size. The bouquet was so full of roses, it looked like something from a movie. And then there was the tiny box in his hands—which could only mean jewelry.

Your heart squeezed. You wanted to tell him he really didn’t have to do all this, but the way his golden eyes shone with excitement made it impossible to say anything but:

“…This is too much,” you said, laughing softly, “but also, thank you, babe. Seriously.”

Denki’s grin softened as he set the bear down with a dramatic oof before stepping closer. He lifted the small box, opening it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, lined with tiny lightning bolt charms.

“Here, this one’s my favorite part,” he murmured. “I saw it and thought, ‘this is literally so us’—you know, ‘cause I’m all zap zap and you’re all gorgeous and amazing—so I had to get it.”

Your cheeks heated as he gently took your wrist, fastening the bracelet around it. It fit perfectly, the tiny charms glinting in the morning light.

“…Okay, this part is actually perfect,” you admitted, smiling as you turned your wrist to admire it. “I love it.”

Denki practically vibrated with joy. “YES! I KNEW IT!”

Then reality hit. You had to go to school. With all of this.

You glanced at the enormous teddy bear, the bouquet, the box of chocolates—how were you even supposed to carry all this around U.A. all day?!

Denki, oblivious, picked up the teddy bear and proudly placed it in your arms. “Okay, now let’s get to school!”

“…babe, I can’t—how am I supposed to carry this around all day?” you asked, voice somewhere between amused and exasperated.

He blinked. “Oh.” Then he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. “Uh… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

You deadpanned. “Clearly.”

“Okay, okay, new plan!” he said quickly. “We drop the bear and chocolates off in the dorms, and you just take the flowers and bracelet with you. Boom! Genius, right?”

“Actually, yeah, that is a good plan,” you admitted.

Denki gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Babe. Are you saying I just had a smart moment?”

You smirked, poking his chest. “Don’t let it get to your head, Sparky.”

He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both started walking toward the U.A. dorms. “Oh, it’s absolutely getting to my head. But also, I’m just really happy you like everything.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I do. And I like you even more, you dork.”

Denki made an exaggerated swooning noise. “Oh my GAWD, my girlfriend just made my whole year.”

You laughed, shaking your head. Maybe it was way too much, but honestly? That was just so Denki. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The streets of Musutafu were dusted with a thin layer of snow, the chill of February still clinging to the air despite the early evening hour. Streetlights cast a soft golden glow on the sidewalks, and the occasional burst of laughter from passing couples and friends filled the atmosphere with warmth. It was Valentine’s Day, and for once, you weren’t spending it alone or just watching others celebrate—you were spending it with Shoto Todoroki.

You glanced at the boy walking beside you, his dual-colored hair standing out even in the dim light. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat, and though his expression was calm as always, the slight pink dusting his ears made you smile.

“You didn’t have to buy me all that, you know,” you said, shifting the small bag in your hand—a small, elegant gift bag from a local store, courtesy of Shoto.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day. I should get you something nice.”

You huffed playfully. “You already gave me a gift this morning.”

Shoto tilted his head slightly, thinking. “That was different.”

You laughed. “How?”

He blinked, as if the answer was obvious. “That was for the morning. This is for now.”

Your heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t the type to shower people with words, but the way he always thought of you—always made sure you felt special—meant more than anything.

The two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, your steps in sync as the city buzzed around you. Small shops had their windows decorated with hearts, and couples strolled by, hands intertwined. You felt Shoto’s gaze flicker to your hand briefly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded toward a cozy-looking café on the corner.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked.

You smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

The café was warm, filled with the scent of coffee, chocolate, and fresh pastries. A few couples were seated near the windows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the hanging lights. The atmosphere was peaceful, perfect for the kind of quiet, intimate moment you knew Shoto preferred.

He led you to a small table near the corner, where the view of the street was still visible but slightly secluded from the rest of the café. The two of you sat down, and you sighed contentedly as warmth seeped into your fingers.

Shoto studied the menu for a moment before glancing at you. “What do you want? My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you already treat me?”

He gave you a look—one of those subtle yet affectionate ones that always made your heart stutter. “That was different,” he repeated.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright. I’ll get a hot chocolate, then.”

He nodded, then walked up to the counter to order. You watched as he stood there, his tall frame relaxed, one hand in his pocket while the other gestured slightly as he spoke to the barista. Even with his usual stoic demeanor, there was something so effortlessly charming about him.

When he returned with two drinks—your hot chocolate and what you assumed was his usual black coffee—you smiled up at him. “Thank you, Sho.”

He set your drink in front of you, then slid into his seat. “You don’t have to thank me every time.”

“I do when it’s sweet,” you teased, taking a sip. The rich chocolate warmed you instantly.

Shoto took a careful sip of his coffee before setting it down. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you could tell he was thinking about something.

“What is it?” you asked gently.

He exhaled softly, glancing out the window before looking back at you. “I was just thinking… this is the first time I’ve really celebrated Valentine’s Day like this.”

You blinked, setting your cup down. “Really?”

He nodded. “My family never did much for it. And in the past, I never really… thought about it. It just felt like another day.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet honesty in his voice. You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. He looked down at your joined hands before curling his fingers slightly around yours.

“Well, I’m glad you’re celebrating it now,” you said softly. “And I’m really glad I get to be the one spending it with you.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Shoto’s lips. He squeezed your hand lightly. “Me too.”

By the time you left the café, the night air was crisp but not unpleasant. Shoto walked a little closer to you this time, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. The streets had quieted, the earlier crowds thinning out.

As you passed by a small shop, Shoto suddenly stopped. “Wait here.”

You blinked. “Huh?” But before you could ask anything else, he had already stepped inside.

You watched curiously as he spoke briefly with the shopkeeper before emerging a minute later, holding something behind his back.

“What did you just—”

Shoto stepped closer, then gently held out a single red rose. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “For you.”

Your breath hitched. A single rose. It wasn’t extravagant or flashy, but it was perfect—because it was from him.

Smiling, you carefully took it from his hand. “Sho…”

He looked slightly unsure. “Do you like it?”

You held the rose close to your chest, nodding. “I love it.”

Something in his shoulders relaxed, and his lips quirked up ever so slightly. Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Shoto froze for a second, his eyes widening slightly. Then, slowly, his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink—not from the cold this time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sho,” you murmured.

His gaze softened as he reached for your hand, holding it properly this time. His fingers were warm against yours, a steady presence in the cold night air.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The penthouse was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below and the occasional flicker of the television that had been playing some random show in the background. You were curled up under a blanket, barely awake, scrolling through your phone when it vibrated with a new message.

Keigo [9:42 PM]: Get ready, I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.

You sat up so fast the blanket fell off your shoulders. “Are you kidding me?” you muttered, scrambling out of bed.

Your damn bird of a boyfriend could have at least given you some kind of warning! You were still in your pajamas, for crying out loud.

Muttering curses under your breath, you bolted toward your closet, flinging it open as you desperately searched for something appropriate. Your eyes landed on a long, elegant black dress—sleek, centered at the waist, and perfect for a last-minute dinner you weren’t warned about.

“Damn featherbrain,” you grumbled, tugging the dress on.

You barely had time for makeup, so you went for something simple—a bit of mascara, lip gloss, and a touch of jewelry before throwing your hair into a slightly messy but passable style. You grabbed your purse, slipping into your heels just as the familiar sound of wings beating against the air reached your ears.

A gust of wind blew in from the balcony. You turned just in time to see Keigo Takami—Pro Hero Hawks—landing smoothly, golden eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in your rushed state.

“Ready?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

You glared. “No, I am not ready! You could have told me sooner!”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You huffed, grabbing your purse and storming toward the front door. “Let’s just go.”

Before you could reach for the handle, you felt a pair of strong arms loop around your waist. You barely had a second to react before Keigo hoisted you up effortlessly, wings spreading wide.

You froze. “Keigo—NO.”

“Keigo—YES.” He grinned.

Your heart plummeted as he kicked off the ground, lifting both of you into the night sky.

The cold wind rushed past you, and you instinctively buried your face into his shoulder, clutching onto him like your life depended on it.

Which—it kind of did.

Keigo laughed, the deep, rich sound vibrating through his chest. “You’re so dramatic, babe.”

“I hate flying,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“You hate flying alone. You love flying with me.”

“That is an outright lie, I can’t even fly alone.”

Keigo hummed, amused, as he adjusted his grip on you, his strong arms holding you securely. “You’ll survive.”

You peeked out from his shoulder, the city lights stretching beneath you in a breathtaking display. It was beautiful… but also terrifying.

“I swear, if I die—”

“You won’t,” he said smoothly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

Despite yourself, you sighed, melting slightly into his embrace.

When Keigo finally landed outside the fancy restaurant, you nearly collapsed onto the ground in relief.

“I am never doing that again,” you declared dramatically, smoothing down your dress.

Keigo snickered, leading you inside with a hand on the small of your back. “You say that every time.”

The restaurant was luxurious, filled with soft golden lighting, elegant décor, and the quiet hum of music playing in the background. A few people turned their heads as they recognized Hawks, but Keigo paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

Once you were seated at a private table, the tension from earlier faded, replaced by the warm, intimate atmosphere between you.

Keigo leaned back in his chair, golden eyes studying you with that familiar lazy, yet utterly enamored gaze. “So, how was your day, babe?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Oh, you know. Peaceful—until a certain someone decided to ambush me with last-minute plans.”

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “Hey, I like keeping you on your toes.”

You shook your head fondly. “How was patrol?”

“Boring. Missed you,” he said smoothly, sending a slow wink your way.

You flushed, laughing. “You’re so corny.”

“And you love it.”

The conversation flowed easily, the two of you exchanging stories, laughter, and playful banter between bites of food. It felt perfect—peaceful, comfortable, and so wonderfully natural.

Then, just as dessert was about to arrive, Keigo suddenly reached into his jacket pocket.

Your brows furrowed. “What are you—”

He pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart stopped.

The entire restaurant seemed to fade away as Keigo set the box on the table, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer, more serious.

He opened it—revealing a beautiful engagement ring.

Your breath hitched. “Keigo…”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his expression open, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw.

“I was gonna wait ‘til later,” he admitted, voice softer than usual. “But I figured—why wait?”

You stared at him, completely caught off guard. “Are you—are you serious?”

He laughed, but there was nervousness in it this time. “What, you think I’d joke about this?”

You blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Keigo Takami—the most reckless, unpredictable, flirtatious man you’d ever met—was looking at you with the most sincere expression you’d ever seen.

“I know I’m not always the easiest guy to be with,” he continued, his thumb rubbing the edge of the velvet box. “I know I stress you out, and I know I drive you crazy—”

“You do.”

He grinned. “But… you’re it for me. You always have been.” His golden eyes softened. “So, what do you say, angel? Wanna keep dealing with me for the rest of your life?”

Your chest tightened with overwhelming warmth, your entire body buzzing with emotions.

You exhaled shakily, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

“You’re an absolute menace of a boyfriend,” you murmured.

Keigo chuckled. “I know.”

“But…” You felt tears prick your eyes as you reached forward, covering his hand with yours.

“Yes.”

His breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah.”

For the first time, you saw actual relief wash over him—before it was replaced with a cocky, dazzling grin.

“Hell yeah,” he murmured, sliding the ring onto your finger before tugging you forward into a kiss.

The restaurant erupted into applause, but you barely noticed—because at that moment, all you could feel was him.

Keigo pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, fiancée.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

Yeah. You really, really did.

[wweprincess]

do you think you can write a soft!jimmyuso smut? I rarely see him being written like this. Reader is female and best friends with jimmy.

Release - Jimmy.U.

Materlist

A/N⤷ I loved this idea, especially writing soft!jimmy Warnings⤷ Daddy Kink, unprotected piv, squirting, talking you through it, whiney man, pet names, 18+ Word Count⤷ 2.2k

“Aight, so, movie night or we orderin’ pizza and chillin’?” Jimmy asks, his eyes flickering to your lips for half a second before locking back onto yours.  

“Movie,” you reply, no hesitation. “We did pizza last time.”  

Jimmy grins, pushing himself up off the bed and rubbing his hands together like he’s about to drop the best idea ever. He strides over to his TV stand. “Aight, so what’s the vibe? Rom-com, action, horror—?”  

You smirk. The kind of smirk that makes him pause mid-sentence, his head tilting as he squints at you. “Nahhh,” he shakes his head, pointing a warning finger at you. “I already know what you on.”  

You bat your lashes, all innocent. “What?” You drag out the word, layering on the dramatics.  

Jimmy crosses his arms, trying so hard to look serious, but the way his lips twitch gives him away. “You tryna trap me into watchin’ some cheesy ass romance movie just ‘cause you rockin’ my hoodie.”  

You huff, flopping back onto the bed with the most exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, fiiine.”  

Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the remote. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. Action it is. Somethin’ to keep those pretty eyes wide open—and not simpin’ over some fake ass love story.”

You chuckle, and Jimmy just smirks, starting the movie before settling down next to you on the bed. The room dims, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows, but neither of you are really paying attention.  

As the movie plays, Jimmy gets real comfortable—like, real comfortable. His hand inches closer, slow as hell, until his pinky is barely grazing your thigh. It’s subtle, but you feel it. And from the way your heart is thudding against your ribs, you know he feels it too.   

He hesitates for a second—like he’s debating if he should take it further—but then, as if on cue, something bad happens in the movie. A loud crash, a scream, and—oh, look at that—his hand accidentally-on-purpose squeezes your thigh.  

Your breath catches. He feels it. Hell, you both feel it.  

Without a word, you grab the remote and shut the TV off, plunging the room into silence.  

Jimmy blinks. “Damn, was it that bad?”  

But you’re not even looking at the screen. You’re staring right at him.

Him and his wavy hair, fresh out the braids, lookin’ too good for his own damn good. Him and that Cuban link that never leaves his neck, catching the low light just right.   

His grip on your thigh tightens—just a little. “You good?” His voice is barely a whisper, rough in that way that sends a shiver down your spine.  

You nod, slow and deliberate, licking your lips without even thinking. But he notices. Oh, he definitely notices. His gaze dips, locked onto your lips like he’s already made up his mind.  

His free hand lifts, fingers brushing your cheek before he cups your face fully, thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing the moment. “You so sexy,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something deeper, something dangerous.  

Your breath catches as he leans in—so close, too close. And then there’s no more space.  

The kiss starts slow, delicate, like a question neither of you needs to ask. But it doesn’t stay that way. Nah, it deepens quick, hunger bleeding through, fingers tightening, bodies pulling closer.  

A movie long forgotten.

His hand glides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you in like he needs you closer—like the space between you is too much to bear.  

He leans back onto the bed, taking you with him, never breaking the kiss. His other hand snakes around your waist, gripping you tight, pressing you flush against his chest. His warmth, his scent, the weight of him beneath you—it’s dizzying.  

A soft moan escapes your lips, swallowed instantly by his, and you feel his grip tighten in response. Your body squirms against him, seeking more, and from the way his fingers press into your skin, you know he wants it too.

His hands roam, slow and deliberate, tracing every dip and curve like he’s memorizing you by touch alone. Then, with a swift, effortless movement, he rolls you both over, pressing you into the mattress, his body hovering over yours.  

Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling rapidly as heat coils in your stomach. He notices. Of course, he does. A smirk tugs at his lips before he leans down, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jawline, then lower—to your neck, your collarbone—his lips warm, teasing, making your skin tingle.  

“Fuck,” he murmurs against you, voice thick with something unspoken, something raw.  

His fingers toy with the hem of the oversized hoodie—the one that’s way too big but smells just like him. Slowly, almost torturously, he pulls it up and over your head, tossing it aside. His gaze darkens as his eyes rake over you, taking in the red lace hugging your curves.  

A sharp breath. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip.  

“Damn.”

His fingers tremble slightly as they trace the delicate lace, like he’s savoring every second, every inch of you. Slowly, he leans down, his lips brushing the warm skin between the swell of your breasts, pressing a soft, lingering kiss.  

“Mmh,” you exhale, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as your eyes flutter shut. The sound alone sends a shiver through him, igniting something deeper.  

His lips return to the same spot, pressing another kiss—then another—until he’s left a slow, teasing trail of open-mouthed kisses across your chest, each one more intoxicating than the last.  

He pauses, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are darker now, heavy with something unreadable, something devouring.  

And then, without breaking eye contact, his fingers move behind you, finding the clasp of your bra.  

Click.  

It comes undone in one smooth motion, revealing your perky breasts.

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, eyes dark and hooded with pure, unfiltered want. His hands grip your sides, holding you steady as he lowers his head, lips parting just before he captures one peak in his mouth. 

The warmth, the pressure—it’s instant, overwhelming. His tongue flicks, teasing before he suckles deep, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your back arches off the bed, pressing closer into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.  

A low groan rumbles in his chest at your reaction, only spurring him on. He moves to the other breast, repeating the same slow, torturous attention—sucking, licking, grazing his teeth just enough to make you squirm beneath him.  

Your body writhes, heat pooling deep in your core, a whimper escaping before you can stop it.  

“Ouuu, Jim—”  

He hums against your skin, like he loves the way his name sounds falling from your lips.

Jimmy pulls back, his lips leaving your skin with an audible pop, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, hunger in them. His hand trails down your stomach, fingers grazing the waistband of your shorts.  

He leans in again, pressing his lips to yours, a kiss that’s slow but charged with more than just need. His hand moves lower, slipping just under the waistband, his fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. He pauses, the tension thick in the air.  

Breaking the kiss, he pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours. “Can I?”  

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the heat between you both. You don’t break eye contact as your voice barely escapes in a whisper, “Ruin me, Jimmy… p-please,” you murmur, your words full of longing.

His eyes widen slightly at your words. His hands dive into your panties, his fingers finding your center and parting your folds. He circles you clit slowly, applying gentle pressure. As he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck, he finds you wet and needy as he lowers his hand to your entrance. He curls his finger inside of you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, “More?” he breathes against your neck, his voice hoarse. 

“Y-yes…fuuuck-” you whimper, bucking your hips upward to meet his strokes. He adds another finger, stretching you slowly. “You like that?” he whispers, his thumb finding your swollen bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pressure becoming too much to handle. 

He presses his thumb down onto your clit firmly as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. That's when he leans down and captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue mirroring the actions of his fingers. 

Your walls began to clamp down, signaling you're ready to come on his thick fingers. He rests his forehead on yours as he looks you in the eyes, “Come for me,” he orders. His fingers move faster, applying more pressure to your clit, “Now.” You come hard, your eyes squeezing shut and your body shaking tremendously. 

Jimmy shifts between your thighs, his large hands gripping them possessively as he slowly unbuttons his pants. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach.He wraps his fingers around himself and strokes himself slowly, “Look at me,” he softly orders, and you obey. Your eyes catch sight of him stroking his long thick cock, dripping with precum and his red throbbing tip. He swallows hard as he watches your innocent face. You're not wearing any makeup, your cheeks are flushed, and your hair is a wild mess. He finds it so sexy. 

His hand moves faster on his cock, “spread them legs fa me,” he softly orders, his voice barely above a whisper. You spread wider as you let out a small whimper, imagining how you’d look taking all of him. He’s aware of his size and is usually rougher, but something about you makes him want to be careful. 

Jimmy hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer as he continues to stroke himself, his large tip nearly touching your stomach. “Look down,” he demands. His hard, large cock, inches from your stomach. His large hand wrapped around the base. The sight is so beautiful you bite your lip, “S-so big,” you moan. He groans deeply at your words, his hand moving faster over his cock as he continues to rub himself against your stomach. He leans down and catches your lip with his teeth, “You want it?” he asks, his voice low and soft. 

You quickly nod, “yes p-please, daddy.” At your plea, he loses control. He reaches down and grabs your hips. Lifting you slightly as he positions himself at your entrance. He's so big that he can barely fit at first, but he pushes in anyway. 

He pushes through your tight little pussy, his thick cock stretching you to the limit, causing you to arch your back and cry out in pleasure. He pauses for a moment, his tip buried inside of you, before pulling back and slamming back in. A brutal pace is set, pounding into you with his large meaty cock, causing your body to bounce with each thrust. 

Tears began flooding down your cheeks, “f-fuck, daddy-.” He continues his deep thrusts, loving how his size is making you cry out like this. One hand moves to grip your throat, and the other holds your hip, pulling you onto him with each thrust. “Take it babygirl.”

The sight is pulling the both of you towards edge. Your body bouncing on his cock, your back arching, one hand squeezing your tit while you stick your tongue out like an innocent little slut. He goes deeper, his cock hitting places no man ever has. You help him spread your legs wider, to watch him disappear inside of you.

Your pussy tightens around his cock, the sensation so overwhelming you break into a sob, hiccupping. He leans down, his face in your neck, biting and marking your skin until he pounds into you even harder. His large hand squeezes your tit roughly, his other hand moving to your clit, massaging it fast and hard.

Your sobs and hiccups become more frequent before you- “I- UGH! Daddy Im g-”. He feels you start to convulse around him, your body tensing as you try to speak. “Not yet, babygirl. Please,” he growls as he hooks his arms under your thighs, pulling your legs back even further, “You take it so fucking good,” he praises, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. 

Your face is covered in tears and your jaw begins to shiver as you try to hold back your orgasm, “Daddy! P-PLEASE-! hiccup.” He smirks at your desperate state, loving how he's made you lose control. “Hold it for daddy… please, baby,” he whispers in your ear. His hips move in slow, deep circles now, pressing deeply against your most sensitive spots. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, your nails latching onto his back as you fight your orgasm. His large hand moves to silence your whimpers, “such a good girl, fightin’ it for me,” he moans. Your body tenses more and more with each slow, deep thrust. He knows you can't hold out much longer. He swallows your desperate moans with a devouring kiss, “Now, babygirl,” he whispers. It’s enough to make your walls clench. You squirt all over his sheet and your body shakes uncontrollably, “f-f-f-FUUCK!- ughh.” Jimmy empties his hot seed into your ruined pussy. “This pussy so good baby… fuckkkk.” he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm as he also lets your pussy milk him dry.

[blingblong55]

Like this- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Heyy can you do trad Goth reader x Simon Riley.  Do what ever you want as in fluff or anything, I just want this because in a trad Goth myself!🖤🦇 ---- F!Reader, established!relationship, trad goth!reader, fluff?, boyfriend!simon ----

A/N: this was from august and its sadly the first time I see this request, im so sorry for not seeing this sooner <3

The low hum of the electric light fills the room as you sit cross-legged in front of your vanity, carefully applying the finishing touches to your eyeliner. The deep black flicks curl upwards like the wings of a raven, perfectly symmetrical and bold. The process has become second nature to you, a comforting ritual, but today, Simon lingers nearby, his interest piqued.

“Y/N, how do you get those lines so straight?” His deep voice carries over from where he’s perched on the edge of your bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. You glance at him through the mirror, his eyes fixed on your movements with an intensity that makes you smirk.

“It’s all in the wrist, Simon,” you tease, wiggling the hand holding the eyeliner pen. “Years of practice and a steady hand.”

He grunts softly, clearly unsatisfied with your explanation. “Looks like witchcraft to me. Tried drawin’ somethin’ like that once for camo paint and ended up lookin’ like a pissed-off panda.”

You stifle a laugh, imagining him hunched over a mirror, fumbling with face paint. “Well, I’m sure you were a very intimidating panda.”

Simon huffs a short laugh, the corner of his lips twitching upward. “You’re takin’ the piss now.” Despite his words, there’s no bite to them, just warmth in his tone.

The mirror gives you a perfect view of him leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he tilts his head. His gaze roams over the collection of bottles and compacts on your vanity, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What’s that one do?” he asks, pointing a finger toward a small glass jar of black pigment.

“Eyeshadow,” you reply, holding it up for him to see. “It’s for shading, adding depth. Here, let me show you.”

You scoop a little onto the tip of your brush and reach for him. Simon doesn’t flinch, though his brow quirks in mild amusement. “You’re not paintin’ me up like a panda, love.”

“No pandas, I promise,” you say, stepping closer. He lets you lean in, and you gently dab the brush at the corner of his eye. The contrast of your soft touch against the rough edge of his stoic expression tugs at your heart.

He stays completely still, his eyes locked on your face. When you step back to admire your work, there’s a faint smudge of dark shadow enhancing his already piercing gaze.

“Not bad,” he mutters, tilting his head to get a better look in the mirror. “Makes me look a bit dangerous, doesn’t it?”

“You already look dangerous,” you counter, rolling your eyes. “The eyeshadow just makes you prettier.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head. “Prettier, eh? Don’t let Johnny hear you say that.” You laugh, but the warmth in his gaze when he looks at you makes your chest ache in the best way. He reaches out, tugging you toward him until you’re standing between his knees, his hands resting lightly on your hips.

“I like watchin’ you do this,” he says softly, his thumb idly tracing a small circle against your side. “You’ve got somethin’ special, the way you put yourself together. You don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”

His words catch you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat despite the confidence you usually wear like armour. “It’s just… who I am.”

“And I love it,” Simon murmurs, his voice low and steady. “Every bit of it. You make the world a little less dull.” Your throat tightens at his sincerity. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. “You’re such a softie sometimes, you know that?”

“Don’t tell the lads,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “They’ll never let me live it down.”

“I promise,” you whisper back, your smile matching his. “It’ll be our secret.”

tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @night-mare-owl-79  @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik  @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bitter-majesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky–bunny @honestlyhiswife @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt  @gh0st-hunt2r @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj  @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth @mariededenie

[nameless-jamie]

Been working on smth…

Jamie Tartt x ???? Fem! reader

TW: suggestive innuendos, kissing, cursing

A/N: Hi guys I’ve been working on smth new! Here’s a snippet. I wanted to see your reactions to it (and maybe you can guess what Jamie’s and Y/N backstory is) or maybe you have any other ideas for it.

The first thing Y/N registered was warmth—soft, steady, and entirely too comfortable. The second was the distinct feeling of being trapped. She blinked against the morning light filtering through Jamie’s curtains, her cheek pressed against a firm, bare chest, his arm slung lazily around her waist.

Her breath hitched.

Jamie was already awake. She could feel his gaze on her before she even looked up. When she did, he was smirking, tousled hair a mess against his pillow, eyes heavy with sleep but sharp with amusement.

“Mornin’, love.” His voice was low, husky from sleep, tinged with something else—something knowing.

Y/N swallowed. Her mind raced through fragmented memories—his hands on her waist, her name a rasp against his lips, laughter between tangled sheets, the way he had kissed her like he never wanted to stop.

She shifted slightly, and his grip instinctively tightened, fingers splayed across her back as if he had no intention of letting go just yet.

“Jamie,” she started, voice quieter than she intended.

He hummed, watching her with that infuriatingly pleased expression. “Yeah?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. What was she supposed to say? Good morning, thanks for ruining me last night?

Jamie, as always, seemed to enjoy her silence. His smirk softened, eyes flickering over her face before he reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Y’look good in my bed,” he murmured. “Knew you would.”

Her stomach flipped.

She really should say something. Something normal, something casual—Haha, yeah, fun night, mate!—but she was still pressed against his bare skin, still feeling the ghost of last night on her lips, and Jamie knew it.

So she did the only thing she could.

She buried her face back into his chest with a groan.

Jamie chuckled, his hold on her tightening, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, voice full of something dangerously close to fondness. “Five more minutes.”

Y/N had absolutely no excuse.

No drunken mishaps to blame, no moment of weakness fueled by too many shots of tequila. No, she had walked into this with full awareness, with every nerve in her body on high alert, and still—still—she had let Jamie Tartt kiss her like he had every right to, touch her like he already knew the shape of her body by heart, and pull her into his bed like this was inevitable.

And the worst part?

It felt inevitable.

She could try to deny it, but it wouldn’t change the way she had let herself lean into his touch, the way she had curled into him in her sleep like she belonged there.

Jamie’s fingers traced lazy circles against her back, warm and absentminded, like he did this every morning, like he wasn’t at all concerned about what happened next.

She, on the other hand, was very concerned.

Clearing her throat, she peeked up at him, only to find that infuriating smirk still playing at his lips.

“I can feel you thinking,” he murmured. “It’s too early for that, love.”

Her stomach flipped at the rasp in his voice, but she forced herself to focus.

“How did we even get here?” she mumbled, more to herself than him.

Jamie tilted his head like he was actually considering the question. “Well,” he drawled, his smirk widening, “if I remember right, you were lookin’ at me all night like you wanted to snog me senseless, and I, bein’ the gentleman I am, simply obliged.”

Y/N groaned, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “That is not what happened.”

Jamie arched a brow. “Oh? So you weren’t the one who dragged me back to yours last week after that pub quiz?”

She glared at him. “That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I was frustrated!”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, and I helped with that, didn’t I?”

She let out an exasperated sigh, but Jamie wasn’t finished.

“Alright, so what about the other night? When you kept findin’ excuses to touch me? Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that look, I clocked it, Y/N. Thought I was gonna have to start chargin’ you for all the times you grabbed my arm.”

Her face burned. “It was dark, I needed to make sure you were still there.”

Jamie’s smirk softened, something flickering behind his blue eyes. “I’m always here.”

Her breath caught.

He said it so easily, like it was a fact, like he wasn’t completely rewriting the rules between them with a single sentence.

Jamie studied her for a moment before nudging her chin up with his knuckles. “You gonna run?” he asked, voice quieter now.

She should. That was the smart thing to do. But running felt impossible when he was looking at her like this, like he was waiting for her, like he had been waiting longer than either of them wanted to admit.

So she swallowed, exhaled, and did the only thing she could think of.

She kissed him.

And Jamie—smug, beautiful, impossible Jamie—sighed against her lips like he had just won the easiest bet of his life.

[avonnimimi]

❀·°∗✧🌸✧∗°·❀

Plugged

The Series. Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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a/n: HEY GURLIES. please don’t hate me for how i turned this around🙏🏽 things will get better trust 💯 @wannabe-fic-reader @hcneymooners @halle5s hope you enjoy pretty girls<3 MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: drug dealer!Vi x black fem reader, arguing, angst, alcohol, violence (kinda), vi with a cocky attitude, phone sex, cheating (?). lmk if i missed anything!

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You woke up on Vi's side of the bed, her scent still lingering, but the spot beside you was empty. For a second, your chest tightened, panic creeping in, but then the sound of clanking pans from the kitchen snapped you out of it.

Your fingers brushed the tender bruise on your cheek, the ache sharp enough to make you wince. You hissed under your breath when you pressed too hard, the sting pulling you straight back into the mess of last night.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you followed the noise. There she was; Vi, back turned, moving around like nothing happened. She was cooking, her broad shoulders flexing under her tattoos, the curve of her muscles catching the dim morning light. She was in her sports bra and boxers, and the sight made your stomach twist in the worst, most frustrating way.

You clenched your thighs together, flashes of last night hitting you hard and fast. She hadn't even fucked you properly, and yet you were still aching, still wet. The way she talked to you, the way she grabbed you, like she owned every piece of you. It made your body burn.

You were too caught up in the memory to notice her turning around until her gravelly morning voice cut through your haze.

"Morning, mama," she said, her tone low, rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

She flicked the stove off and started walking toward you, her eyes already locked on your face. Her hand reached for your cheek, her fingers brushing so soft it almost broke you. But the second she touched the bruise, you flinched and stepped back.

Her hand froze midair, her expression shifting into something you didn't quite recognize; confusion mixed with something darker. Then she scoffed, her lips curling into a tight, annoyed smirk.

"This what we on now?" she asked, her voice sharp, cutting. "For real?"

"I just... I need time to think," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your arms wrapped around yourself like they could keep you from falling apart. All you really wanted was for her to hold you, to tell you shit was gonna be okay.

But Vi wasn't having it. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened as she stepped closer. "Thinkin'? You wasn’t fucking thinkin' last night when you was beggin' me to fuck you, huh?"

Her words hit like a slap, your lip trembling as you tried to find something, anything, to say. But she didn't give you the chance.

"Nah, go on. Think all you want. But don't stand here actin' like you don't know what it is." Her voice was low, almost growling now, and it made your chest feel like it was caving in.

"It's not like that," you said, shaking your head. Your voice cracked, betraying how lost you felt. "I just... I don't know what I'm doin', Vi."

Vi let out a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, I know. You don't gotta tell me that, precious. But lemme tell you somethin'; stop sittin' here tryna convince yourself that Donte love you. That man don't love shit but his ego."

Your chest heaved, her words punching the air right out of your lungs. "He does! He loves me!" you shouted, but even you didn't believe it.

Vi's face hardened, and she grabbed your arm, yanking you closer. Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, noses almost touching as your eyes dropped to her lips. "You hear yourself? You sound crazy right now. Like, you really sittin' here defendin' the same dude who left them bruises on you? For what? Huh?"

You tried to pull back, but she wasn't letting go. "He ain't love you, mama. Love don't hit. Love don't leave you lookin' like this."

"Shut up!" you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and shame. Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew up, slapping her across the face.

The sound echoed through the kitchen, and for a moment, everything froze. Vi's head turned from the force of it, but when she looked back at you, her lips curled into the faintest smile, like she liked it.

"You don't know shit about our relationship," you hissed, your voice shaking.

Her smile disappeared, replaced by something colder. "Oh yeah? So why I know he ain't never made you cum? Not once, huh? Tell me I'm lyin', precious."

Your throat tightened, tears stinging your eyes.

"That's what I thought," Vi said, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

"You ain't stayin' with him cause he love you. You stayin' cause you liked being his little trophy. Like thinkin' he could protect you. But he didn't, did he?"

"Vi, stop," you begged, your voice breaking.

"Nah, you know I'm right," she pressed, stepping closer. "That's why every time you see me, you get all wet, huh? Why your pussy get sticky f'me, cause she knows who the fuck she belongs to. Go head. Tell me I'm wrong."

The tears finally spilled over, your body trembling as her words cracked you wide open. You hated her for saying it, for being right, for seeing through you when you couldn't even see through yourself.

Vi sighed, the fight draining out of her.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost tired. "I ain't tryna hurt you, precious. But you gotta wake up. You killin yourself over someone who don't give a fuck about you."

You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't look at her, couldn't stand the weight of her words.

"You know where to find me when you figure your shit out," she said, her tone flat. Then she walked away, leaving you standing there with your shame and your tears.

Your hands shook as you called Shay to come get you. Every part of you was burning-anger, embarrassment, heartbreak. And somewhere deep down, that awful, gut-wrenching truth:

she was right.

—

Vi sat on her couch, head leaning back against the cushion, her thoughts heavy and chaotic. She really thought she had you, that you were finally breaking free from Donte’s bullshit. But nah, your head was still caught up in the spiral. She couldn’t even blame you, not fully. You’d been with that dude for years, and she’d only just stepped into the picture. Still, it didn’t make the sting any less sharp.

When Vi overheard you on the phone with Shay earlier, mentioning coming to get you, something in her told her to follow. She didn’t want to seem like a creep, but the thought of you spiraling alone didn’t sit right. Instead of taking her Hellcat, Vi hopped on her bike. It’d be easier to stay lowkey that way.

It didn’t take long to catch up, trailing a few cars behind Shay’s car , pulling up to Shay’s house. Vi parked a distance away, helmet still on, watching. She saw you step out of the car, your face red and puffy, tears still fresh. Your brown nose was almost glowing from how much you’d been crying, and your braids were piled into that messy, floppy bun you did when you didn’t give a damn about how you looked. Shay came out as well, pulling you into her arms, and for some reason, that little scene hit Vi like a punch to the chest.

Vi stayed there for almost an hour, sitting on her bike, second-guessing every instinct she had. But when you and Shay came back out and got in your car, Vi couldn’t stop herself from following. It was loose at first, just keeping her distance, making sure you were okay, but then she saw where you were heading.

Donte’s place.

“Fuck you doin’, mama?” Vi muttered under her breath, kissing her teeth as she rolled her neck in frustration. She should’ve turned around right then, left you to your mess. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She parked farther down the block, watching as you knocked on Donte’s door. When he answered, the sight of his beat-up face made you gasp, like you cared. Like this man who’d tried to sell you off deserved your sympathy. Vi’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. What the hell were you thinking?

And then Donte grabbed your face, yelling at you like you were nothing, making you flinch. Vi’s hands tightened on the handlebars of her bike, her jaw ticking. Her instincts screamed at her to rush over, to throw him through that doorframe and leave him on the pavement. But she didn’t move. Not yet. You needed to see it for yourself. You needed to finally realize what Vi had been trying to tell you: this man didn’t love you. He didn’t deserve you.

But then it happened. He kissed you, and you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back.

Vi’s stomach twisted like she’d been gut-punched. Disgust clawed its way up her throat, and her chest burned like she’d swallowed fire. She couldn’t sit there anymore. Not for another damn second.

Revving her bike, she sped off, making sure the roar of her engine was loud enough for you to hear. You glanced up. You didn’t have to see her face to know it was her. And she didn’t have to see yours to know the guilt that flashed across it.

“Good,” Vi muttered under her breath, her voice cracking in a way that made her hate herself. “Let that shit sink in.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you to drown in the mess you’d made.

—

That night, Vi found herself in a club she hadn't stepped foot in for years.

As soon as she walked in, the heavy bass hit her chest, and the air was thick with sweat and cheap perfume. The crowd was wild-girls in barely anything, asses shaking, lights flashing like some chaotic fever dream.

She didn't even make it five steps before the DJ's voice cut through the music.

"Aye, hold up-yo, is that Vi?"

A smirk tugged at her lips as she threw her arms up, the spotlight catching her face.

"The one and only!" she called back, grinning like she owned the place. And in her mind, she did.

Seven years ago, this was her spot.

Back then, she couldn't go a weekend without pulling up, drinking, and making the strippers lose their damn minds. Vi slid into her usual booth like no time had passed, legs spread wide, a glass of Henny in her hand, surveying the room like a queen on her throne. Nothing had changed much, not the people, not the vibe. Except her.

She sat there, pretending to enjoy the scene, but her mind wouldn't stop replaying the image of you kissing Donte. Willingly. The thought made her grip tighten on her glass, jaw clenching as she tried to shake it off.

That's when her eyes landed on a stripper working the pole. Candy. She looked different-older, but still moving like she owned every pair of eyes in the room. Candy noticed Vi watching and smirked, bending over to shake her ass in Vi's direction.

Years ago, Vi would've already had her bent over in the VIP room, no hesitation. But now? All she could think about was you. And how you chose him.

Candy didn't let up, though. She climbed off the pole, strutting her way over in nothing but a thong, fishnets, and heels, her chest practically spilling out. The confidence in her stride was magnetic, but it didn't do a thing for Vi tonight.

Candy slid onto Vi's lap, draping her arms around Vi's neck like she belonged there. Her lips brushed against Vi's ear as she whispered,

"Long time, no see, Vi."

Vi took another sip of her drink, unbothered, her expression cold. "Not in the mood, Candy. Not now, not ever."

Candy pouted, leaning closer, her voice dripping with fake seduction.

"What do you mean? The infamous Vi's finally out, and you're not gonna fuck your favorite girl? What a shame..." Her tongue flicked up the side of Vi's neck, testing her limits.

Vi didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, she pulled her gun and pressed the barrel to Candy's temple. The stripper froze, her breath catching, eyes wide with terror.

"Play with me again, Candy," Vi whispered, her voice low and venomous, "and I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Candy scrambled off her lap so fast she nearly tripped over her heels, running toward the dressing room without a backward glance.

Vi sighed, tucking the gun back into her waistband before leaning her head against the back of the couch. She stared up at the ceiling, her grip tightening on the now empty glass in her hand.

"Fuck me.." she groaned, the weight of everything crashing down on her.

But no amount of Henny or strippers could drown out the image of you with him. Nothing could.

Vi stomped out the club, the cold air biting at her skin as she slid into her Hellcat. The leather creaked under her weight as she leaned back, hands gripping the wheel like it might ground her. She didn't even start the engine when her phone lit up with an unknown number.

"Yo," she answered, voice low, already annoyed.

The line crackled, quiet for a second, then she heard it. Donte.

"Aye, Vi," his voice oozed arrogance, the kind that made her wanna punch through the steering wheel. "I know you fucked wit' this bitch, but guess what? She back in my bed now."

Vi's stomach twisted, a mix of rage and disgust boiling up. Then she heard it; the unmistakable sound of skin slapping, muffled grunts, and... your voice.

Her grip on the wheel tightened, her breathing steady, but her chest burned.

"Tell her how good I fuck you," Donte growled in the background, his words sleazy, disgusting.

Vi closed her eyes for a second, fighting the urge to drive straight to his spot and end it. But she stayed on the line, listening because she couldn't not listen.

Then she heard it; your whimpers, your soft, broken voice cutting through all the noise.

"V-Vi….."

Her eyes snapped open, the sound of your voice pushing her over the edge. You called for her, but she wasn't about to make this easy for you.

"Want me to help you cum, mama?" she said, her tone sharp, taunting, dripping with venom. You didn't say anything, but she could feel you were hesitating, your body reacting to her words through the phone.

"Your lil' pussy gettin' fucked by somebody she don't even want," Vi mocked, her voice low, almost a growl. "Go on, mama. Fuck yourself on his dick. Do it for me."

The rhythm in the background shifted, the slaps changing pace. Vi smirked. She knew you were listening, knew you couldn't help it. "Yeah, that's it," Vi purred, her words slow, teasing. "That feel good? Huh? Feels good, don't it, pretty girl?" She heard your breath hitch, a whimper slipping out, and she grinned.

"Pinch them nipples f'me, mama," she commanded, voice soft but firm, a dangerous edge to it. She heard the sharp intake of breath, the little sound you made when you did exactly what she told you to. "Yeah, baby. Bet it feels better when I do it."

In the background, Donte's dumbass finally chimed in. "Shit, I ain't never felt you this wet before." Vi nearly laughed, shaking her head. "Sad-ass boy," she muttered under her breath, her focus still on you.

"Use your hand, pretty. Play wit' that pussy while he fuckin' you," Vi said, her tone dark and possessive. "Get that pussy real messy for me." She heard a faint "mhm," and her chest tightened, her jealousy fighting with the satisfaction of knowing she had you exactly where she wanted.

"Yeah, that's it, mama. Keep goin' till you cream f'me," she pushed, her voice low and smooth.

And then it happened. She heard your moans break, her name spilling from your lips as you came, loud and clear. “fuckkkk Vi!” Vi heard you moan over the phone.

Vi imaged you, thighs shaking, pussy fluttering and creaming for her, vision so good Vi almost moaned.

The line went dead quiet for a second before Donte lost it, his voice roaring as he grabbed the phone. But it didn't matter. Vi grinned, her head falling back against the seat.

You came for her. Not him. Never him.

Vi sat there, phone pressed to her ear, listening as Donte started wildin'. "Whore," he spat, his voice venomous. "You really came for another nigga Huh?!"

Vi didn't even flinch, her grip on the phone steady. She heard the rustle as Donte snatched the phone, his breathing heavy like he was gearing up to run his mouth.

Before he could even get a word out, Vi cut him off, her tone sharp, dripping with smugness.

"Yeah, bitch," she drawled, her words slow and deliberate. "Ask her who that pussy for. That'll tell you who fucks her good."

The line went dead as Vi hung up, no time for his bullshit.

She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, her grin growing as she started the engine. The Hellcat roared to life, the sound vibrating through her chest.

Vi gripped the wheel, her smile turning smug as she sped off into the night.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

[the-kr8tor]

Once More to See You

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.4k

Synopsis: Like Alice in wonderland, you accidentally fall to another universe where everything is different from your universe, including your best friend, Hobie Brown. Will you be able to come home to your best friend before you get ripped apart molecule by molecule? Or will you fail and leave the love of your life wondering where you are for the rest of his life?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW Blood, CW violence, TW death, CW injury, CW vomit mention. Bestfriends to lovers (speedrun edition), established relationship, Hurt/comfort, Angst.

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Masterlist

Eyes almost crossed, back hunched and aching, you tinker at the tiny components of the inter dimensional watch Hobie started putting together. He brought it to you last night with a paper bag filled with your favourite takeout to bribe you in helping him. “It's for emergencies,” he said, “I don't trust that vampire from the future,” he grumbled in between bites of chips.

The soft music from your record player filters through the dimly lit room, save for your work lamp, the sun is just about setting in the horizon. You have the perfect view of the expansive London skyline just outside your window. It's a foggy day, clouds hanging above like cotton balls, fluffy and grey— rain's coming, you surmise from the unmistakable smell of petrichor. It's already raining somewhere, you think. And you worry immediately for him since he's still on patrol. Did he bring a raincoat with him at least? But knowing him, he'd just swing around while there's a downpour. And when you scold him while he's dripping wet, soaking your carpet, he'd just shrug and say, ‘I looked bloody good at it though’ to which you'd scoff, but secretly agree.

Distracted, you poke at the wrong wire with your metal pliers, a spark from the main power source shocks you, flinching and yelping, you check for any damages on your fingertips.

“Should've worn rubber gloves, love.” Hobie's sudden whisper in your ear makes you jump out of the stool, goosebumps appearing on your arms as he catches you before you land harshly on your back. “Got you. Maybe you should invent seatbelts on barstools, hm? You'd make a fortune from pubs alone. No more drunkards falling face first.” He jokes, arm snaked along your back, hand splayed over your ribs, and face dangerously close to your own.

You decide to quip back as revenge for making you almost fall. “I would invent it if you weren't dropping so many projects on my lap.” Still floating above the floors with the help from his hold, he fakes letting you go. You squeak, hands instinctively flying to his shoulders for support. Maybe you shouldn't have teased him when he's the only one standing between you and a bump on your head. “You little—”

He raises a pierced brow, “what'd you say again, love?” His mischievous smirk tells you that he's about to do it again, so you surrender. How could you fight him when he looks at you like you're the only person in the world that's worthy of his touch?

Lips clamping down, you still glare at him despite the overwhelming fondness for the man holding you in place.

“That's what I thought.” Chuckling, he sits you upright back on the stool, he even fixes your shirt for you. “There, lookin' mighty fit today, why are you all dressed up?”

It's your turn to quirk an eyebrow, “dressed up? Hobs I basically live in this shirt.” He unabashedly roams his eyes over to the old band shirt that he made himself once upon a time. “Bold of you to assume I have some place to go.” You say even with the searing heat from your cheeks, and clammy hands.

“We could go,” Hobie shrugs, hiding his sudden shyness, you have that effect on him. “There's a new building we could swing to, if we go now we could still catch the sunset.” He inches closer, hand smoothing down the goosebumps on your arms.

“It's gonna rain, Hobs.”

“How'd you know? You a weather girl now?”

“I can smell it, and also my knees feel it.”

“What are you eighty?” He says with a laugh. “Does that make you a cradle snatcher?” Half joking, he really wishes that you'd get the hint.

Eleven years of friendship and counting, you still haven't crossed that invisible line between friendship and something more. It's not from the lack of trying from Hobie's end, no, he has told you a few times that he fancied you, more than a best friend would. But you're too afraid to say it back, to say or even scream that you fancy him, or love him is the better way to put it. But you're afraid that it might not work out, that friendship is the best thing for the both of you, that all the longing looks thrown between you, and all the lingering touches were all just attraction because you've known each other for basically forever; and the feeling wouldn't last once you do get together.

You don't want to risk your friendship only for it to end in tears and heartache. No, you love him too much to hurt him like that, and he knows it too.

He was more bold with his feelings for you a few years before, years before he was bitten and was given the heavy responsibilities. But now that he bears the title of Spider-man, he's starting to think having a romantic relationship with you while he's tangled up in all the danger he faces everyday, isn't such a great idea. So his advances are much less now, Hobie just misses you, he suppose, that's probably why he asked for your help with his own batch of watches even though he can handle it on his own while he's blindfolded. An excuse to just see you, an excuse to be in your presence. Because if you can't be together, he'd settle for staying like this forever, just best friends.

Best friends who unequivocally love each other, best friends who are waiting for the right time. Even if it means waiting for forever.

You smile softly, knowing that his joke is a half wish. “That means you're a coffin snatcher then.”

Hobie leans closer, hands on top of your table that's behind you, arms caging you in. You can smell the leather on him, and the usual scent he sports when he's particularly in a good mood. You'd know, you gifted the cologne to him. He thinks you're uncomfortable because of the position, he was about to move away but you remedy that with a smile, and with your hand placed on the back of his elbow. He can feel how your pulse hammers against your skin.

“C’mon, love, the view's pretty up there.” His view right now can't compare though.

“I can see the view from here, besides, I still have work to do.”

He tilts his head, an act he knows you can't resist. “I’ll swing you back home quicker than you can say ‘cougar’” you laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners, and he thinks your smile is better than any sunset he has ever seen. “You've been cooped up in here for too long. When was the last time you've seen the sun—?” You open your mouth for a quip but he beats you to it, “not including seeing it from your windows.” Nodding, he raises both eyebrows, looking at you through his long lashes.

For a moment he thought you'd agree, that you bought into his charms. But you clear your throat, moving away, lips tightly closed like you refuse to spill any secrets. Or spill out a confession. I don't want to ruin this, you think, if I go, what would happen up there? Your mind runs through a thousand scenarios, a consequence of your genius mind. It's not all good, you suppose, and you're sure that whatever happens on top of that skyscraper, you'll never come back from it.

You love him, you really do, but he has a heavy burden to carry. You don't want to add to it. Leaning to the side, still sitting on the stool, he instinctively hovers his hand close to your side, just in case you fall off again.

“I fixed the problem on your watch by the way.” Changing the subject is good, changing the subject means you don't have to face reality.

“Yeah?” He acts nonchalant, yet, there's a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him. It's not all your fault, he thinks. All the tiptoeing around each other, all the heavy side glances aren't all your fault, it's his too. He might've faced a hundred or so dangers but he can't seem to find the courage to finally say those three magic words. Jaw tightening, he's not mad at you, he's mad at himself.

“Your initial power source didn't have enough juice. Hence why it can't generate the right particles for inter dimensional travel.”

Hobie leans on the table, hand still close to your waist, eyes roaming intently at your handiwork. You're good, too good at making these watches, even better than Miguel could be. Or he's just biased. You made it look good too, even with the hodgepodge of materials he gave you.

“You figured that out in less than twenty four hours?” He's in awe of you, he could've thought of that, but it would've taken him a tad longer. “Fuckin' brilliant,” he says under his breath.

You raise your chin proudly, “I did, it was easy-peasy.” It was not, you barely slept because you couldn't sleep not while this huge glaring problem sits at your work table. If it needs fixing, you're gonna get it fixed within the day or you think you'll crumble into dust. Especially if it's Hobie asking for help.

Hobie beams, he's incredibly proud of you, but, “you crossed your lines, love. If you want me to catch on fire then you did it brilliantly.”

“What?” Your smug smile melts, eyes scanning the colourful wires. Shoulders sagging, you glare at him. “No, it's not.”

“Yes it is,” chuckling, he takes your hand to guide and point it out for you. “Right there. Between the cooling system and the red wires.”

Eyes narrowed, nose wrinkling, he smiles at your cute expression. “I can't see— oh.” You see it, the mess of wires lies just under the new power source that you were so proud of. “Fuck.”

“You owe me,” Hobie pokes your side.

“No, I don't. Not all of us have super eyesight.”

“Really? Blamin’ my poor eyes?” Hobie widens his hazel eyes, brilliant swirls of colours mesmerize you.

“Your eyes are far from poor.” You shove his face away from you gently, smiling, you laugh at his fake glare. “Don't you have to patrol, spiderman?”

He surrenders, huffing, he takes his mask from his back pocket to put it back on his head. “Fine, just make sure to fix your wires, I don't want to come back to a crater the next time I visit.”

“I'll uncross them, don't worry. I'm not an amateur, y'know.”

Hobie pats your shoulder for now, maybe he'll pay you a visit again tonight just to make sure your flat didn't turn into ashes. You call him back before he could exit through your fire escape.

“Be careful, please?” Your worried tone makes him turn back around to face you. You imagine that he's at least smiling under his mask. “Just…I have no idea what to do with your watch if you suddenly croak.”

“Always so bloody sweet,” walking back towards you, he grins even though you can't see it. Your worries make you reach towards him. Holding him by the lapels of his leather jacket, you trace the little stitches he made. His spider senses tingle, and he hears how your heart quickens. “I'll be fine, yeah? Don't worry ‘bout me.”

“You know I'll always worry.” You whisper.

“I know, I'm like that too when it comes to you.” Your breath hitches in your throat. He shuts his senses down so he can't hear how fast your pulse thumps, or how you weakly swallow down your nerves. “Why don't I come back here tonight, ease that genius mind of yours.” He pokes your forehead, you nod. “Good, I'll bring takeout, that isn't instant ramen. Seriously, love, that shit ain't good for you.”

“It's tasty though.”

“You'll get kidney stones.” He begins to walk backwards, so he could still see your face as he goes. For some reason, he doesn't want to go. But he suppose that he always has this feeling whenever he visits.

“I've got a clean kidney,” you softly smile, waving goodbye, hoping that he comes back to you in one piece just like always.

“Sure you do,” one leg after the other, he exits from the window until you're staring into your open window and until his lingering scent fades.

“Right,” you sigh, slapping your cheeks to stay in the present, then turning around to continue your work.

For an hour you painstakingly untangle the wires with your tweezers, minutes turn into hours, and your empty stomach grumbles. Lower back aching once again. For a second you're just about finishing it, then a spark lights up, then a blinding explosion of colours.

You should've worn rubber gloves.

—

Hobie swings casually towards your flat, it's a lot harder to swing with one hand while the other holds onto the plastic bag filled with your favourite. Smiling under his mask, wind blowing towards him, buildings whizz past as he increases his speed.

The smell of smoke hits his nose. Then puffs of black tar greets him where your flat used to be.

Heart in his stomach. He lands on the pavement less gracefully, the bag slipping through his trembling fingers.

A crowd watches on at the burning building, pieces of glass lay under his boots, crunching as he stands frozen on the spot. His eyes roam for your familiar face, around the people that watch the blaze, grief curls around his throat when he doesn't find you amidst the throng of strangers. It slowly suffocates him.

Your name spills out of his lips, hoping with every utterance of your name you'll emerge unscathed. He feels dizzy.

A firefighter notices him. Hope blossoms in his chest when Hobie turns towards the uniformed man. But the forlorn face the man sports under the soot covering his skin says it all. “There's no survivors!” He yells above the sirens, Hobie crumbles to his feet. “There's no survivors. You're too late, Spiderman.”

He's too late. His ears ring, he could only hear the crackling of the fire whilst it eats away at you. Charred wood collapses, nose stinging from the smoke, vision blurry as tears silently fall.

You're gone. And all that's left of you are ashes that float down towards him like grotesque snowflakes. Sticking to his suit, heat clinging to his skin.

It's too soon, he had a lifetime with you. A sudden burst of rain pelts at him. You were right, rain was coming.

He should've tried harder to convince you to go out.

—

A swirl of neon colours whizz past as you fall into the kaleidoscope depths. Scream stuck in your throat, hand stinging from how you grip the watch, or what's left of it. It's now in your hand, jagged metal pieces piercing your skin. There's a light at the end of the tunnel, bracing yourself, you fall on the harsh concrete. The portal spits you out feet first, skidding across, body tumbling on the ground. You're otherwise unharmed despite the harsh landing.

Eyes adjusting in the light, you blink rapidly, shielding your eyesight from the intense sun.

Wait, the sun? Wasn't it sunset a few minutes ago?

Sitting up, you roam your eyes around where you landed. The familiar London skyline is to your right, while on your left are buildings you can't seem to recognize no matter how you try to remember.

“I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.” You say, full of bewilderment. The watch worked, but in the way you wanted it to.

The roof where you landed on is dirty, full of abandoned broken furniture. Pots upon pots of dead plants stacked on top of the other. Good thing there isn't any broken glass or you'd be bleeding.

Propping yourself up, you stand up on two wobbly feet. Stomach churning, vision warbling, you think you're about to be sick. You can't believe Hobie does this on a daily basis.

You inhale sharply, trying to compose yourself and the instant ramen in your stomach. “Oh fuck.” Exhaling, you calm yourself down. Heart finally steadying to a normal rhythm, you sigh before you check the remains of the cracked watch in your hand. “Shit!” The broken pieces fall off from your palm as you look at it. “I'm fucked!”

Like a child throwing a tantrum, you kick a cardboard box, it soars across the roof. Groaning loudly, you stomp on the ground as if it was its fault that you're in another dimension.

You felt it before it happened. Something spreads inside you, like a bolt of lightning has struck you. The sensation starts from the crown of your head to your fingertips, goosebumps appearing on your skin, you glitch for only a second but it's enough to give you motion sickness.

“Oh my fuck—!” A blast from behind you reverberates, wind rushing around you, whipping your searing skin. “What the—?”

If being stuck in an alternative universe wasn't enough, a guy wearing huge mechanical wings is approaching you quickly. Too quickly.

Before you could duck, the cackling vulture grabs you from the roof. Lifting you up, the whiplash from his momentum almost breaks your neck.

“Got you!” He laughs in your ears, metallic claws digging into your biceps. A black slithering blob weaves around his bicep, crawling up to your own like a slimy worm.

“What the hell, old man!” You scream above the noisy exhaust of his wings. “Let me go! I was literally just standing there!”

He clicks his tongue, like he's chastising a child. “No, no, no, not until he gives me what I want. Then I'll think about letting you go, but it's a long drop.”

“Who—?” As he says the word ‘drop’ you look down, vertigo making you nauseous. You must be a hundred feet above the streets. You wish Hobie was here to save you. Tears in your eyes, panic sets in, making your hands tremble and your chest desperately heave in air.

A flash of red and black, a harsh crack of bone, and a splash of something warm on your cheek, you fall from the vulture’s hold.

Gasping, reaching for something, anything to hold onto, you get snatched up before you turn into a bloody street pancake.

A strong arm envelops you as you hug tighter, face hiding away from the harsh winds. Clinging onto the stranger, they seem oddly familiar under your touch. They smell familiar too, like your nose is so used to it that you can recognize it above anything else. Leather and bergamot, the scent he wears when he's in a good mood.

You raise your head to take a peek at your savior. The spikes on his head are dark and swirly, like an evil unicorn's horn. They don't shine in the sunlight anymore, it's the same deep shade as his mask. He no longer bears the resemblance of your Hobie. He feels like him, smells like him, even the warmth spreading to you is the same. There's a deep familiarity, yet, there's something amiss.

“Hobie?” You call, and when he shifts his head to gaze at you, his grip loosens.

Craning his neck down, the eyes of his mask widens. “Y/N?” He breathlessly asks, arm sliding off from shock. “Shit!”

“Hobie!” Briefly falling, he catches you immediately. You both land on a roof, his arms are around you, hand shielding your head from the collision as you both slide across the terracotta roof. Eyes closed, you hide your face on his chest as he bears the impact for you.

Hobie groans, glad that he's wearing leather that helped with lessening his injuries from the awkward fall. Opening his eyes, he thinks he has died when he sees your face look back at him.

Expression etched into worry, you check for any injuries on his body. You get a good look at his suit, it's different, way different than you saw him last. The only thing that stayed the same is his old leather vest, but it looks like it's more well worn than the last time you've seen it. There's marks on the leather, and holes where it's not supposed to be in. You'd mend it for him like always, but there's more pressing matters.

Hobie reaches for you, black cloth enveloping and swirling around his toned arms, showing a bit of his scarred skin. You don't miss how his hands tremble as he holds your face in his calloused hands. It's all familiar to you, yet, his hands are more rugged, rougher, but you know it's him. You could recognize his touch anywhere.

“Did the vulture finally get me?” You raise an eyebrow at his question. The heaviness in his chest slowly fades for the first time in years, he wants to tell you everything, to hold you forever in his arms until all the holes in his heart are filled by you once more. His thumbs wipe the crimson off of your cheek, an instinct of his.

“W-what?” You shake your head, and he relishes at the sound of your voice. The same voice he has only heard in your old voicemails that he plays before going to bed. “I think you have a concussion, Hobs.” Gently, you reach for his mask, he stops you before you could lift it away.

“Hobs,” he chuckles weakly, “I haven't heard of that name in years.”

You know this isn't your Hobie but you can't help but sympathize with him, you can hear the sadness and hurt laced with his deeper tone. You'd ask, but it isn't your place. Literally.

Hobie sits up with a groan, back cracking, the sound making you wince. “Sounds like you need to stretch more.” You joke.

He laughs, his mind tricks him, making him think of all the teasing you've said to him once upon a time.

“I think my back is beyond saving by just stretching.” Head leaning on his elbow, arm propped up by his knee, he still can't wrap his mind around your existence. “Which dimension did you come from?”

You straighten your back, lips curling into a smile. “How'd you know I'm not from here?”

Hobie reaches for his mask, for a moment he pauses. Still, with an apprehensive tug, he takes off his mask. Shock and confusion is evident in your expression. Reminding him of the time when he told you he was Spider-Man all those years ago.

“You're…old.” A hundred questions flood your mind at the sight of his crow’s feet that decorates his eyes. He has smile lines around his mouth, he still has piercings but there's less of them now. His hair is graying, patches of grey that weave around his locs. Under the wear of time on his face, you could recognize that face amidst a thousand faces. It's Hobie, but not your Hobie. “Definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

He chuckles deeply, he misses that humour of yours. “You look how I remember.” he whispers, you could barely hear his words.

You knit your eyebrows together. “Did I travel to the future instead of a different dimension?” The same sensation passes through you, rattling your bones and wracking your senses. You glitch once again. Stomach churning, you cough out harshly.

Shaking his head, Hobie stands up then he gives you a hand. “Not time travel,” you take his hand weakly, lifting you up, he worries for you. “Definitely from another universe. Come with me to the safehouse and we'll fix your watch, yeah?”

Nodding, you trust him completely. “Okay, just to remind you though, don't jostle me around too much—”

“You get motion sick from web swingin’, I know, I remember.” His heart aches, and you can see it hidden behind his hazel eyes.

—

After swinging across the city, and with you fighting the bile rising to your throat, you two finally make it to his safehouse that's masquerading as an old laundromat. You and older Hobie enter from the back door, and another door greets you, all thick steel and seemingly bullet proof.

He enters a set of codes on the numpad that you didn't notice until he was pressing numbers in. You don't bring out the fact that the passcode was your birthday.

The door beeps, an indication that it's unlocked. He looks at you over his shoulder, smiling softly at your nervous eyes.

“Stay behind me, yeah? Don't mind the lads. Or the whispers.”

“Whispers? Why would they gossip about me?”

“Nothin'” he turns back around. “Just stay close to me.”

“Okay, I wasn't planning to wander anyway, it looks like a small house so—” just as you say it, a long staircase leading down to what looks like the abyss makes you think otherwise. “Are you evil Hobie? You planning on bringing me to your little house of horrors to kill me?”

“Are you part of the sinister six?” He asks flatly, slightly enjoying the banter.

“No—”

“Then you've got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Hobie continues to walk down the stairs, heavy boots thudding against the concrete with every footstep. Darkness surrounds him quickly, you could only see the outline of him under the dark. He notices the way you stay on top of the stairs, hands wringing together. “I've got a torch if you're scared—”

“Yes!” You exclaim too fast. “I mean, sure, yeah.” He doesn't tease, for that you silently thank him. You hear a click, and then a torch coming from a gadget on his arm lights the way. “Thanks,” you whisper, finally catching up with him.

The stairs lead you down further, with only Hobie's torch guiding the way, you subtly hold the hem of his vest. If he minded, he never said anything. Ears popping, another door greets you at the end.

Hobie knocks, a rhythm that you can't quite place. A panel on the door slides open, a pair of eyes roams over to Hobie's face and then to yours. Brown eyes widening at the sight of you, they close the panel, then they open the metal door with a creak. Light escapes from the opening, and you shield your eyes from the sudden brightness.

“Holy fucking shit,” a female voice exclaims. Their cadence is full of surprise, and somewhat breathless. “W-what— how?”

“She's not from here,” Hobie explains, almost sounding forlorn at his own words.

Your eyes finally adjust, and you see an older Yuri gawking at you. She has aged well and gracefully, you think, as she sports the lighter hair with confidence and wrinkles barely noticeable.

“Yuri?” You still ask even though you're ninety nine percent sure that it's her.

“The one and only, gorgeous.” Without thinking, she drags you inside, pulling you in for a hug. You heard her sniffle, and you felt how her shoulders relaxed just from the hug alone. So you let her embrace you, with your hand awkwardly rubbing in an attempt to soothe her. Pulling away, she holds you at arm's length. She pats your shoulder, smoothing your sleeves, “still gorgeous, and still unfair.” Snorting, she lets you go, turning towards your companion. “Gwen's been waiting for you.”

Hobie gets flung back to the present, the simple sight of Yuri hugging you has brought him to the past, back when everything was better.

You stare at him, and he knows there's a lot of questions swimming in that genius mind of yours. He nods once wordlessly, not trusting his own mouth to form coherent words right now.

You follow him just as he instructed, Yuri reluctantly lets you go. Your nails dig into your sweaty palms, and eyes restlessly looking around the safe house. The place is expansive, walls high up, and when you look down, you see weathered tiles that have cracked from time. There's a train track in the middle, and you realize it's an old metro station. Instead of advertisements and train schedules on the walls, you see several monitors hanging on it, thousands of wires running through all of them, beeping and buzzing coming out of the computers. There's also weapon racks littered around the place, large and something that looks like it came from a sci-fi film.

There's a lot of people running around, all clad in the same style as Hobie. Leather, chains and metal spikes all adorning their forms. You quickly look away whenever you pass a stranger who widens their eyes at the sight of you.

Tugging at Hobie's vest, you peer at him. “Why does everyone give me that same look? And who's Gwen?”

He doesn't stop his strides, “Gwen's a friend, she knows you, kind of.” He decides to tease you. Maybe it's his brain trying to compensate for the time he hasn't done it. “Why? You jealous? Green eyed monster rearing its ugly mug?”

You scoff with a playful smile. “Technically, I don't know you, so…” his smile wavers, “there's no way I'd be jealous. Also you're…old.” His smile returns, there's a question that suddenly pops in your mind. “Are we a thing here?” You suppose you should ask just to get it away, and this isn't even the same Hobie back home so you don't lose anything by asking.

His face flattens, something passes by his eyes and he turns away. “Don't worry ‘bout it.”

“That's not answering my question, or any of my questions—”

“Gwen.” Hobie passes by you without sparing you a glance.

He enters a large open space that is full of computers and screens that blink and beep. There's a dozen or so people that walk around the area, all looking frazzled and tired. It looks like a command center of some sorts. A stranger bumps into you, accidentally shoving you by your shoulder.

“Sorry, I—” The man stops in his tracks, it's Ned, or at least this universe's version of Ned. The wrinkles around his eyes and white hair says that he must've been the same age as this Hobie. The clipboard in his hand falls from his grasp, eyes wide and watery, he gasps. “Y/N—”

Hobie appears next to you, “yeah it's her, Ned.”

“B-but…she's—”

Hobie shakes his head, wordlessly having a conversation with his best friend. “We'll talk later, I promise.” He softens his voice. The interaction has you more confused. They have a stare down with you caught in the middle.

You give Ned an apologetic smile. Crouching, you take the fallen clipboard, giving it back to him. “Here, sorry for bumping into you.”

His hand trembles as he takes it. “It's okay, I gotta go.” Rushing, he leaves you and Hobie.

“Is he okay? Please don't tell me you're working him to the bone.” You scold him.

“No, you know I'll never do that.”

“Just like I said, I technically don't know you.” Exasperated from all the dodging Hobie has done, you walk away and towards the command center where a large table sits in the middle and in-between a huge screen.

Hobie has forgotten has stubborn you can be, following behind you, he can already see Gwen looking furious just standing next to the table, all menacing like.

“Hobie, what the fuck did you do?” The sudden angry tone makes your skin jump, kind of reminding you of your days back in school. “Have you finally lost your damn mind?” The blond woman gestures towards you.

There's red streaks in her braided hair, clothes perfectly suited to her form. She stands out from the rest, she looks sporty in her varsity jacket and white trainers. But of course she wears a pair of leather pants and an old band shirt that says ‘fuck getting fridged!’ You have no idea what that means.

Before she could blow a gasket, you explain yourself. “It's not time travel actually,” you say, voice faltering once you notice all eyes are on you. “It's interdimensional travel— on accident! I didn't mean to.”

Gwen crosses her arms over her chest, “you a spiderperson? Do you answer to Miguel?”

“No, not a spiderperson, just some idiot who made a huge mistake by trying to make her own watch because my best friend asked me to.” You take the broken watch from your pocket to place it on the table. “See? I broke it.”

“Your Hobie asked you to help him?” Older Hobie asks, you nod, his eyes flick over to you and then the bracelet. “Sounds like something I would do.” He whispers to himself.

“Wait, you don't have a watch on you anymore? Then—” Gwen starts but your glitching interrupts her.

It was only two seconds but you felt like your insides were being ripped apart, and your eyeballs were getting scooped out by a spoon. Heaving, hands gripping on the table for balance, you cough loudly as Hobie pats your back.

“Motherfucker—! That one was worse than the last one.” You almost choke on your own spit. “Goddamnit.”

“I was about to ask why you're not glitching, I guess I got my answer.” Gwen hands you a water bottle. “Here.” Turning towards Hobie, who's already picking apart the bracelet, she sternly calls for his attention. “What do you plan with her?”

“Fix her watch then let her stay because she's Y/N.” He nonchalantly says, lying through his teeth to rile up his already mad right hand woman.

“Your real plan, Hobie.” She taps her foot impatiently, you still wonder what his words meant. “We don't have the time or the resources to help her right now. Especially when our little machine still hasn't turned on.”

“Would you rather have her molecules ripped apart or spare a few parts so she could go home?” Hobie places his hands on top of the table, eyes narrowed, challenging Gwen. Whilst you take in his words. “Our main focus still hasn't changed, she's a guest and if we don't help her she will die.” Inhaling, he continues, “you heard her, she has someone to go back too. Someone who's lookin' for her. Do you really want him to experience that kind of—” he stops after feeling your eyes on him. He clears his throat. “We'll help her fix the watch, it'll take me a few hours to finish it and we'll still be on schedule for the attack.”

You set aside your oncoming demise to ask him about ‘the attack’. “Schedule for what?”

Gwen visibly relaxes from your gaze, you surmise that this universe’s you has history with her. “We're gonna take down Osborn once and for all.”

You knit your brows together. “You haven't done that yet?”

Gwen and Hobie blinks in surprise, intrigued, everyone else who wasn't already eavesdropping looks at you expectantly.

“What do you mean ‘haven't?’” Gwen asks, eyebrow raised.

“We already did that in our dimension a few years ago. I still have a few scars from it.”

Hobie cranes his neck towards Gwen, hazel eyes suddenly forlorn, shoulders heavy, and jaw tightening. “You succeeded?”

It all hits you, they've failed in where you and your friends have succeeded. You gained where they've lost, and you feel for their pain, you for*his suffering. You now know why he gave you that look the first time he saw you.

Composing yourself, even though your chest feels heavy, you still act as if their revelation doesn't bother you, when it has impacted you like you're the one who lost. “Y-yeah, I mean everyone helped a lot. I just did the best I can.” You scratch the back of your neck, “we had this thing that can cripple the symbiote inside his men—”

Gwen takes out a small circular device from her pocket. “Like this?”

You shake your head, “no, we just hooked a bunch of amplifiers around the area and Hobie and his band played really fucking loud. My ears ring just thinking about it.”

“Yeah we all know about them hating loud sounds but that didn't work for us before.” Gwen and Hobie's hopes are dashed. “And after all the tries, we stopped trying that method.”

“Why don't you guys ask for help with spider society? I'm sure—”

Hobie cuts you off, scowling at his feet. “I did, I asked for help. And what did that vampire from 2099 say?” He grows frustrated, knuckles shaking, eyes looking away from you. “He refused, saying that no one could intervene. That this was my canon event, and if anybody helped that it'll put the multiverse into dangerous territory.” Shaking his head, the man before shows up, and Hobie turns away from him. “It's bullshit, that's why I left.”

“We did find out why sound doesn't disable the symbiotes. Osborn made some kind of shield around them.” Gwen pipes up, shifting the conversation before Hobie gets angrier from the mere mention of Miguel.

“Like armor?” You ask.

“Yes, it's invisible to the naked eye. Thanks to Hobie, we finally found their Achilles heel. If only we could get this damn device to work then we'll be free of him and his regime.” She continues.

“Maybe I can help—”

“No,” Hobie quickly says, hurt in his eyes, he avoids yours. “No, I'll get your watch fixed up and you can go.”

“But I may be able to help—”

“No,” he emphasizes, with a shaky breath, he calls for Yuri. “Take her to the extra room,” instructing Yuri, she smiles at you apologetically. “Stay there until your watch is fixed.”

“She might be right—” Gwen starts but Hobie ignores her.

You glitch once again, stomach turning inside out, this time you feel like your skin is being ripped away. Eyes rolling on the back of your head, head spiralling. The next thing you know, you're laying on top of a hard mattress. Groaning, vision adjusting, you sit up carefully.

Your eyes adjust to the dim light hanging above, a single light bulb that swings from a draft seeping out of a crack in the wall. The room is small, barely even fitting the single bed. Walls of grey concrete surround you on all sides, there's a few posters on the walls that are tacked lopsidedly. They're all worn down, like they're older than you from the looks of the fading ink. A singular guitar sits at the corner, black and cherry red, hundreds of stickers are placed on it, adding to the roses that are painted all over it. It screams Hobie, but not your Hobie. Just sitting on his bed makes you miss him, even though you know they are not the same.

Stretching your aching neck from awkward angles it was put through because of the glitching, you spot a polaroid picture sticking out from under the pillow. You don't want to be nosy, but seeing your own face smile at you has you reaching for the photograph.

It's you, but not you exactly. Your face is the same, clothes you can't recognize. The only thing you can recognize is the way you hold onto Hobie. This universe's Hobie. Cheek pressed on his own, mirrored smiles on both your lips, his arm around your waist, pulling you close as if you'd fade away. And your arms enveloping around him like you're shielding him from harm. There's one detail that jumps at you with how yellowed the paper is and how crumpled the corners are, you're both incredibly young.

“Oh,” There had been signs, and this now confirms it.

You look at the steel door as if you had x-ray vision, as if you can see through it and see the Hobie that this version of you had loved once upon a dimly lit pub where the polaroid was taken.

Placing the picture back where you found it, you test your shaky legs. You make it two steps before you start glitching out, tumbling towards the door, forehead pressed on the cold steel, you heave dryly.

There's tears in your eyes when you open the door. Silence greets you, the air is cold and stagnant, the lights that were blinking at you earlier are now dim enough that you have to feel your way towards the concrete hallway and out into the warm light. Your hands glide along the almost frozen walls, rough sandy concrete hitting your palms like sandpaper. Footsteps quiet to not rouse the sleeping crew.

Finally making it out, lungs cool, and teeth chattering, you feel sicker by the minute. Hobie stands next to the large console, back towards you. Metals clicking and grinding against each other, Hobie doesn't look over his shoulder from your presence.

You knock on the wall to not startle him and ruin his work. Hobie finally cranes his neck to look at you, shoulders tensed and eyebrows knitted together in either frustration or concentration.

“You okay?” You ask, voice echoing in the vast room.

“I should be askin’ you that.” He goes back to the table, immediately tinkering.

“Well, are you?”

“You're stubborn.”

“My best quality.”

You hear him softly chuckle thanks to the silence hanging in the air. Walking closer, you smile at the sight of his rubber gloves that protect his hands.

“So?” You ask again.

“Never better.” He flatly says, eyes focused on putting your watch together.

“Why'd you leave the society?”

“Thought you were smart?”

“I am, and a consequence of that is being utterly curious.”

Hobie sighs but doesn't stop working. “Creative differences.”

“Ah, I knew it. You and my Hobie would get along well.” Your words trail off when you see the same spherical tech sitting next to him. “Is that the thing you can't figure out?”

He spares it a glance. “Yeah, the bane of my existence.”

You go around him to look at it closely. Eyes narrowed, arms tucked, you lean closer. “I think—” you grab it before Hobie could stop you. The glitching must've taken a toll in your critical thinking because you crack it open like an egg in your hands. “That's your problem.”

“What the fuck?” He says breathlessly, almost yelling, eyes wide, hands already grabbing the tech to fix it. “What is wrong with you?”

“Thin shell.”

“We've established that you have a thin skull—”

“Rude, but I'm talking about that.” You point at the sphere while Hobie's cradling it like a baby. “the shell is too thin,” you take half of it, pointing out its faults. “See? You need to make the shell a bit thicker, put a pressure plate so that—”

Hobie has a growing smile. “When it's thrown it automatically turns on. With the thicker shell it can withstand it and with it helps distribute the energy more evenly. Shutting all the shields down around its vicinity without needing to push a button.” His eyes widen with realization with every word he says that you already know of. “That way we can arm every rebel with a hundred of these and take down Osborn's venoms without risking close combat. Fuckin' brilliant.” He looks at you in wonder. Embarrassment flickers in his eyes, he should've thought of that, yet, he didn't. You might not be his Y/N but you're worthy of her name.

“Sometimes the easier solution is the best.” Your next sentence has your hands shaking, he notices. “Was your Y/N as brilliant as me?” You finally ask.

Hobie's cheery face falls, “She was smart, but not that brilliant. Her bravery makes up for it.”

“I'm sorry.” Tears stick to your lashes, heart aching for the man before you.

“You are curious.” After years without you, he still has no idea how to respond to those exact words. “How you feelin’?”

“Me?”

“Finding out a version of you is dead must be fuckin' weird.”

You shake your head. “I first thought that I'd see an old wrinkly me.” A half joke. You smile at him to make him feel better, but with how forlorn those hazel eyes are, you might've made it all worse. You weren't lying, you wanted to see a glimpse of your future, but finding out the version of you here is long dead doesn't compare to the feeling of losing someone you've known for years, loved even. “It's terrifying, but it doesn't compare to how hurt you must be. Losing her, I mean.”

He didn't see you grow old. He didn't experience growing old with you.

Hobie clears his throat, “I know you're not her.”

“And I know you're not him. But it looks like we both share the same feelings for them respectively.”

“That obvious?”

“Hobie once told me that in every universe there's always someone for Spider-Man. So yes, it's obvious.” You give him an empathetic smile. “How'd you know it's the same for me?” For us?

“You talk about him like how I talk about her. Takes one to know one, love.” He holds your hand briefly, like it was acting on an old instinct. “Have you told him? How much you're bloody smitten? I have a feelin’ you haven't.”

You nervously chuckle, hands fiddling with a loose screw on the table. “Nope.”

“Let me guess, waitin’ for the right time? Scared of what would happen in the long run?” He says knowingly.

You don't look him in the eyes. “Yeah.”

Something flashes behind Hobie's eyes, after a beat of silence, he finally speaks. “She died protectin’ my crew, did you know that? She died protectin' me, and how do I thank her? Years of failing, years of fighting and we've only come close but never winning in the end.” Hobie sniffs, head raised to look at the graffiti painted on the ceiling. “If i just told her that I loved her, I would've had more time with her. Instead, I was a coward, all those years wasted because I'm a coward.” Hobie finally looks at you, the warm light from the lamp lights the trapped tears in his eyes. “Don't wait for the right time.”

You shake your head, heart clenching at the sight. “I don't think all those years were wasted. You loved her quietly, and I think she did too. Time spent together isn't wasted, just like your silent love. Love is never wasted.”

He smiles softly, the resemblance of a younger Hobie is etched under the small smile. “You would know.”

“I would know,” you smile back. Trepidation hangs around your neck like a two ton steel necklace. “How would I know that he feels the same way? What if it doesn't work out? Or worse, reject me?”

“His loss,” Hobie grins, a genuine one that you haven't seen this version of him sport. It's the only thing you need for reassurance. “But I highly doubt that will happen.”

Nodding, you feel determination where the heaviness once resided. “I'll tell him when I get back. I promise.” You say wholeheartedly.

“You better, don't make the same choices I did.” Hobie holds your hands like how someone holds a feather, gentle and kind. “At least I got to see her one last time, eh, love? A bit younger but beggars can't be choosers.” You feel something heavy on your wrist. Looking down, you see a working watch. Hobie slyly put it on you, it even has your dimension already keyed in on the screen. You look back at him, mouth slightly agape. “Too much power, that was the problem. Sometimes the easier solution is the best.” You laugh at him using your own words against you.

“Thank you, do me a favour?”

“Tit for tat, huh?”

You giggle, then you face him seriously. “Crush Osborne. Fucking decimate him. Or I'll come back and bring the cavalry.”

Hobie's finger ghosts above the button. “You know where to find me, love.”

“And you know where I am.” You smile as the portal opens behind you. A gust of air breezes past you, eyelashes fluttering in the wind, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing on Hobie's face, illuminating his hopeful eyes. “I'm serious, if you need help—”

He slides his hands away from yours. “Go home, Y/N, your Hobie is lookin' for you.” With the mention of him, you give him one last smile for him to remember. You take a step back and fall back into the portal.

—

You fall unceremoniously on the wet pavement, body crashing on a pile of discarded boxes and metal trash cans. The crashing sound would've startled anybody and would have their attention, but no one seems to pay you mind as everyone stares at the ashy remnants of your flat. Groaning, you slap your forehead because of your stupidity. You feel relieved because you seem to be home. Everything seems to be in place, and everything seems to be normal.

“Fucking idiot.” You whisper breathlessly at the sight of your charred flat. Your relief gets washed away when you see Hobie in his suit kneeling down in agony whilst bystanders watch on in grief. Your eyes flick over to him and back to your flat, then back to him.

His shoulders are shaking, head in his hands, nails digging into his mask. You'd yell his name if not for the crowd. Instead, you walk to him, legs still wobbly but getting steady with every step. Soon enough, before you could make your presence known with your hand reaching for his shoulder, he moves his head so fast that you're afraid that his neck would snap. The eyes of his mask widens, standing up, he grabs you lightning quick.

Arms holding you close, you feel his warmth as he slides his hand to your pulse. Hobie sighs in relief, even laughing as he slots his face in the crook of your neck.

You mirror him, hands kneading on his back, telling him you're back and you're not going anywhere with the simple touch.

“I thought— where—?” he starts, but you press your lips on his cheek. He practically freezes in place even with his mask acting as a barrier.

“I love you,” you confess, just as promised, and truthfully. “I love you—!” In a half second after the words are uttered, he swings you both effortlessly on a rooftop, away from prying eyes.

Hobie steadies you on your feet, mask discarded in a heartbeat. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do.” You don't miss the sight of his tear stained cheeks. Your hands reach for him, thumbs rubbing softly on each cheek. “I love you, Hobie.”

“Good, then you don't mind me doin' this?” The warmth of his hand seeps through his gloves, that won't do, so he takes his gloves off to feel you. His bare hand is on your nape, the other is placed on your waist, fingers tapping on your skin lovingly.

You already know what he's asking. “Nope, not at all—”

With an inhale, he closes the distance, kissing you, taking your breath away.

You've fulfilled your promise.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Eight

Words: 4.5k

The morning after the night before breaks over you and Joel. You reach a breaking point of sorts. You do your best to mend bridges with Ellie, while a dangerous plot unfolds in Jackson.

Chapter warnings: Angst, mostly

A/N: Thank you for your support of this series, as always. Joel will soften up, he's just getting used to community and wanting someone again. We see a little more of his POV while we're also finding out a little more about what Shauna's planning. Or are we...

Seven | Series Masterlist | Nine

You woke with a start, a dream of your parents calling for you ripping you from sleep. You were in your bed, and you couldn’t remember getting there. You let your mind travel to the night before, with Joel’s head between your legs as he brought you to aching release. You remembered pulling him up your body, resting with his head on your belly as you ran your hands through his hair. He’d been a heavy warmth blanketing you. His weight on your body must have lulled you into sleep.

You glanced behind you. The pillows bore an indent, the blanket was in disarray. Did he carry you up here, tuck you in, lie down beside you? You only remember a feeling of contentment, of peace. You think you might have a faint memory of warm breath on the nape of your neck, of arms wrapped around your middle. You can’t be sure you’re not imagining it, your mind manufacturing it to keep you safe.

The sheets smell faintly of pine, and of citrus. But it could be that you carry the scent of him on your skin. But there’s something else now, something wafting up the stairs. You could swear it’s almost like…bacon. You wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Joel stands at your stove, breaking eggs into your skillet. Beside him he browns toast on the hob. Bacon spits fat in the pan on the other burner. He’s concentrating, making sure nothing burns. He hears you pull your rickety old chair out from the table, and stiffens, a tic in the muscles over his shoulder blades, a twitch of his forearm as he scrambles the eggs.

‘What’s cookin’ good lookin’?’ you asked, trying to make light of the situation, trying to settle the nerves in your belly.

‘Was never good at poachin’,’ he said to you, not turning around.

‘Always thought that was too fancy, just for show-offs,’ you consoled him. He huffed out a laugh.

‘Was surprised you had the bacon,’ he said. He turned the heat off the stove, assembling the breakfast on two plates. ‘Figured you for a vegetarian type.’

You weren’t sure if you should be offended. If it was a compliment. If he was calling you soft.

‘I was for a few weeks when I was 14,’ you conceded, and he smiled down at the plates in his hands.

‘What stopped ya?’

‘Mom took us to KFC for my sister’s birthday,’ you said, smiling at the memory. You’d gone on the insistence that you would only order fries, and had walked out of there with a 14 piece bucket. You weren’t as strong as you are now.

Joel put the bacon and eggs down in front of you, kicking out his chair and sitting beside you.

‘Clever woman,’ he said, and you grinned.

‘She knew me so well.’

You looked down at your plate. The bacon was perfect. You swallowed, a little ashamed that your mouth was watering.

‘Thank you,’ you said, and he smiled, seemingly genuinely pleased. Then his smile faltered a little, and you watched his face cloud over.

‘Figured I could try and be…I haven’t been good to ya.’ You wanted to disagree with him, wanted to brush away the feeling so that you wouldn’t have to deal with it, either. You bit down the urge to shy away from it. ‘S’just been so weird, all of this. I ain’t prepared for it.’

‘So, these are sorry eggs?’ you asked, smiling at him, but feeling your mouth tug down when he didn’t meet your gaze. He’d gone quiet, his face turning serious, apologetic.

‘Maybe they are. But mostly just didn’t want ya hungry.’

‘Joel…’ you said, and you trailed off, because he was looking at you with warmth in his eyes again, genuine affection, and it stopped your brain short.

You fell into a companionable silence, gazing at each other. The morning light caught some of the greys in his hair, making him look just a little rusted, a little ethereal. If cameras were still a thing you wanted one for this moment.

‘Things’ve been hard, and I know that I…I guess I tried to keep you out of it,’ he said.

You nodded, knowing this was the case. Having always known, because it was your first instinct, too.

‘Joel it’s hard to ignore that want to protect yourself,’ you said. You wanted to reach out and take his hand, warm it in yours for a second, because he was looking serious again, maybe even a little sad. He set his gaze on yours again, but you felt something heavy land with a thump in your chest. You wanted to hold onto the moment, freeze time for a second before he dropped whatever he was about to, and you couldn’t even as much as you longed for it.

He cleared his throat, and you felt yourself brace. 

‘Can’t do that again,’ he said, gesturing to your living room, to the scene of the crime. The eggs were growing cold, congealing on the plate.

Suddenly, it was really fucking early. Suddenly, you were tired.

‘Joel what the fuck?’ you asked, pushing your plate away and watching him wince. ‘You make me eggs so you can let me down easy?’

There was a pun in there, somewhere. Something about eggs over easy. You’d think of it later, and it would bring you no joy.

He put his fork down face up on the plate, the way your mom always used to hate when you did it. You fought the urge to reach over and set it correctly.

‘I’m trying to be kind about it,’ he said. ‘I ain’t been kind and I ain’t proud of it.’

‘You assume I want that to happen again,’ you said, trying to sound incredulous but hearing how tight your voice sounded, that it carried the jangle of your nerves. He looked at you, big brown eyes over saddled brows. There wasn’t any point pretending, but you wanted to, anyway.

‘Things are complicated with Shauna,’ he said, and you grimaced.

‘What was that last night?’ you asked, after a while. You knew what it was for you. You wanted to know if he would say it. That he wanted you. That it was something, even though he was now trying to choke the life out of it. That you weren’t imagining it. That he felt it, somewhere, too.

He lifted his hand and placed it gently down on yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. His skin was rough on yours, but warm in the chill of the morning.

You realised you’d hit your limit. Finally, finally.

‘I think you should go, actually,’ you said, standing up from the table and carrying your untouched plate to the sink. Your tummy swirled. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be hungry again.

You wondered whether it was better to let him see you cry. You could head out the back door to the porch so that he wouldn’t see. Or you could spin around, stride out back to your bedroom, let him look at what he’d done to you. You stood, paralysed with indecision, your back to him. You heard him let out a long sigh.

‘Teach, I…’

‘Don’t,’ you said, and you were starting to choke up, knew that pretty soon you weren’t going to have a choice at all.

‘Will you still teach Ellie?’ he asked, and you felt a little flare of fury just below your ribcage.

‘So long as you can keep your tongue out of my cunt.’

For a long moment there was no movement at all in your kitchen. You weren’t sure either of you took in a single breath. You knew when you weren’t so angry you would regret it, but in that moment, you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

You heard his steps as he retreated down the hall and out the front door. You weren’t sure how you’d even begin to explain yourself to Rose.

--

Joel didn’t see you for days. When you didn’t show for your Sunday shift on the wall he spoke to Billy, tried to act casual about it, but couldn’t hide the way his face fell when Billy informed him you’d asked for a few weeks off.

He wanted to tell you that he’d realised the eggs were a mistake, borne out of shame and a sleep deprivation, that he’d spent the whole night awake after he carried you, snoring softly into his neck, up to your bed. That he’d held you as your eyes fluttered in dreams, thought back to all the awful shit he’d said to ya, to the way he’d shut you down when you’d asked him about Sarah, about Shauna. He’d not been able to stand the idea that all of that poison, all of that darkness, could cloud over your sun. He’d wanted it as clean and as uncomplicated as you could get at the end of the world. Hearing her name in your mouth had twisted something in him, something ugly and snarling and wrong. He didn’t have a name for it. But he let it take the wheel.

But then even as he’d held you he’d found himself thinking of Shauna, tucked up in the half-dark in Tommy’s garage. Felt the pull in his gut carrying him back twenty years. He had been, maybe still even was, her husband. All of the feelings were gone, he knew that, but also knew it wasn’t just about that, that he had a responsibility to her, that she had given him his little girl. Maybe she’d been right when she’d said she was still a Miller. Technically, at least.

Joel had been mean to you, dismissive and hard, and he owed you better but he owed the same to Shauna. He had owed it to her since he was 22, since his little girl emerged screaming into the world, and then later, when she slipped out of it.

You didn’t give up on family. You kept going. For family.

So it was that he took the sounds of your gasps and the feel of your hands in his hair, of the soft swell of your skin on his cheek as he rested his head on your belly, the heat of your body as he held you against him, took them and wrapped them up in newspaper and string, stored them in the attic of his mind, behind boxes of old clothing and Sarah’s soccer trophies, behind the hopes he ever had for himself, for something like a future with you.

Shauna was saying something to him, and he tuned back in just in time to make it look like he’d been listening the whole time.

‘Don’t you agree?’ she asked him, and he hummed a little as if he was thinking about it. She had brought the map over and spread it out over his kitchen table, her marker in her hand as she drew lines across the border of the wall. ‘We could go all the way up to the base of the mountain, but there’s no point doing that, because there’s no extra resources there. If we head west towards the planes we’ve got a better chance of…’

‘Mountains bring shelter, bring protection,’ Joel said, scratching at his beard. ‘People can’t come over ‘em without us knowing.’

‘But there’s no advantage, no gaining ground.’

‘The advantage is safety,’ Joel reminded her, feeling a little irritated by her tone. He wasn’t even sure why she was telling him all this, anyway.

‘West by the river means…’

‘Means people travelling in from the water, and on foot. Means trying to protect a whole other side of the town.’

‘Joel, you’re not thinking strategic.’

‘I am thinking of the men and women in this town, and the children, Shauna, who need protecting.’

He wasn’t sure why he put such a heavy emphasis on children. He had a suspicion.

‘Steve and Wren think that this is the right…’

‘Don’t give a rat’s shit what Steve and Wren think, and neither will Town Council.’

‘They’ve got some good ideas.’

‘Maybe so, but they ain’t been here more than thirty seconds.’

‘So, we have to squander the advantage until they’ve done their time?’

‘Why are we even havin’ this conversation, Shauna? You know I ain’t on council.’

Shauna stared at him for a moment, her jaw clenched as she thought. She was frustrated, Joel could see it all over her face, in the way she was hunched over the table, up on her elbows with her hair trailing over the map.

‘I thought you’d come and vouch for me, for this,’ she said, gesturing again to the western end of the river. Joel scoffed, then realised she was serious. He shifted in his chair.

‘Ain’t my battle,’ he said, and watched as she straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest. He braced himself for the fight. Some things, even twenty-five years gone, never changed.

‘When did you get so…passive?’ she asked, spitting it at him, hoping it would rankle him like it used to.

‘Got old, Shauna. So did you,’ he answered back, simply. He watched her breathe hard and fast through her nose. He almost remembered when he thought it was cute. When they were both a little younger, and he was a lot dumber.

‘Joel, you don’t realise how much of a leader you are. People follow you, they always have.’

‘I ain’t fixin’ to lead anyone anywhere,’ he said, and she sighed.

‘That’s exactly my point! You could, but you don’t. Joel, you could really help people…Tommy looks up to you, and then he can get in Maria’s ear…’

‘Oh, I’m your attack dog, huh?’ he said, standing. ‘You just point and tell me where to shoot?’

Shauna backed back a little, and he watched as she recalibrated. She put her hands up, holding her head down in supplication.

‘OK, Joel, m’sorry,’ she started, but Joel was tired, and he was still wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again, if he’d ever be able to eat eggs and bacon with a clear conscience.

‘You go and speak to Town Council, you do whatever you gotta do, I don’t care,’ he said, moving towards the door but stopping short when Shauna got in front of him.

‘M’just trying to do what’s right for the community,’ she said, and he studied her for a second. He could see the way she used to charm him, how it might have worked back in the day, but bits of him were sealed off tight now, welded shut from the loss and the terrors in the dark. He didn’t want her in his house anymore.

‘Go, Shauna,’ he said, quietly. He watched her eyes travel to his mouth, her lips parting slightly as she gasped a little. When they were kids she used to like it when he bossed her around a little. If he was honest with himself, and he rarely was, he liked doing it.

He watched her eyes study him for a second, cataloguing his skin.

‘Joel…’ she started, taking a step forward, and he held his hand up to brace against her.

‘Go,’ he said, and meant it. Meant it as he remembered the heat of your skin under his hands, the way your cunt glistened for him as he spread you out on the couch, your little snuffled snores as he held you safe between your sheets. Meant it as he sent you away, pushed you back, the crash of two worlds too cacophonous even for his half-deaf ears.

She took a step back again, then another, until she was hovering by the kitchen door.

‘Will you at least come to the meeting?’ she asked.

‘Ain’t a member, Shauna, ain’t no place for me there.’

‘You could come with me, though, I mean. You don’t have to present alongside me, just…be there for moral support, I guess.’

He didn’t have to think hard.

‘Go fight ya battles, Shauna,’ he said. ‘You picked ‘em, you fight ‘em.’

--

Ellie had the wisdom not to expect that you would come to their place for tutoring, and so she took to hanging back with at the end of the school day, straightening chairs and helping you wipe the board clean, until you walked together back down the path to your house. You were surprised by how much you wanted to make it up to her, having nearly abandoned her, wondering what you were thinking throwing away your friendship with her over grumpy pants Joel. Gorgeous, grumpy, mercurial Joel.

You knew she was smart enough to know that something had happened, maybe that something had changed. If she’d asked you, you wouldn’t have been able to put it into words. Just that you knew you needed to keep your distance, properly and actually, this time. That Joel hadn’t come knocking again any night since that morning in your kitchen, and that actually if he had you probably wouldn’t let him in.

‘It’s coming up on summer,’ Ellie said, as she walked beside you. The sun was warm, still putting out heat despite the relatively late hour of the afternoon, and you were starting to feel sweat stick your shirt to the back of your neck.

Summer was a tricky thing in an apocalypse. Even up in the mountains the sun could be trouble, the heat sneaking up on the older folks and the children, sunburn a genuine issue now that all the SPF had long expired. Everyone wore long shirts and just suffered through the heat regardless. In July the town almost stopped at lunchtime, the residents resorting to keeping to the relative comfort of indoors.

‘Been wondering what I’ll do,’ she said, and you nodded at her, lost in thought.

‘With your time off, you mean?’

‘Summer break,’ she said. You weren’t sure why but you had wanted to maintain the tradition, even if it was just so that you could take some time off from the kids for a while. It felt unnatural to be teaching in the middle of summer, when the kids stared out the window at the breeze in the trees and dreamt of plunging into the river. You had only tried it one year, the first year you opened the little school, and you had made it three weeks into June before you gave up and told the kids not to come back ‘til the leaves turned.

‘What would you like to do?’ you asked, and she shrugged.

‘Been a while since I got out of the walls,’ she said, and you laughed a little.

‘Ellie, there’s no way on Earth Joel will let you daytrip out there. It’s not safe.’

‘Maybe it’s not about him letting me,’ she said, and you smiled indulgently at her.

‘It is, though, at least for another few years.’ She went quiet, considering this. ‘What about the stables? How are you with horses?’

‘That new guy is down there most days,’ she said, and this was enough explanation.

‘Mmm,’ you hummed in agreement. ‘What’s Dina planning?’

You tried not to smile as you saw the pink spread across Ellie’s cheeks.

‘Uhhh…’ she stuttered, as you arrived at your front gate. You let her off the hook.

‘Ok, time for some more work,’ you said, and she rolled her eyes.

You had been worried that it would feel different. That being at your place, that having tried to break away from your tutoring with her just to give yourself some space from Joel, that Ellie knew he’d had to come asking, that she would be hurt or resentful or not want to see you anymore off her own bat. But you realised the more you got to know her Ellie was both blessed and cursed with low expectations. She’d been let down, hurt, enough times that it didn’t seem to make a dint anymore. You hated it for her, even if you admired the resilience it bestowed upon her.

‘We doing trigeography?’ she asked.

‘Trig…onometry,’ you clarified.

‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘It’s math.’

You set her up at your kitchen table, thinking for a moment about all the moments you’d shared with this girl in similar domestic settings. You supposed there was a comfort to it, a warmth.

‘Joels’ quiet,’ Ellie volunteered, as she fought every cell in her body to care about finding x.

‘Oh?’ you said, and you wondered how you could tell her you didn’t want to talk about it without making her feel shut down.

‘Mmhmm, kind of…not grumpy? It’s weird.’

‘That doesn’t sound like him, that’s true,’ you said, grinning a little.

‘Like he doesn’t even have the energy to be grumpy, he’s just…blah.’

You wanted to say you knew the feeling well, wanted to ask her for more details, figure out if he was missing you because fuck knows he would never actually say it out loud.

‘Is it over?’ she asked, and she was so small, then, quiet and staring down at her paper because you realised she was too nervous to look up.

‘I…’ you considered lying to her, considered pretending there was nothing to even be over. But you knew she was smarter than that, knew that she knew you well enough now that she could tell when you were lying. ‘I think it might be,’ you said, after a while. ‘I don’t know that it really ever got the oxygen it needed, but I think now it definitely won’t.’

‘Because of Shauna,’ Ellie clarified, and you kind of shrugged. ‘I don’t trust her,’ she said.

‘I think…things changed for him when she arrived, but that’s not her fault,’ you supplied.

‘You’re too nice,’ Ellie said, calm but devastating in her honesty as always. You looked at her, properly, for the first time in a while.

‘You know, he’s never going to…just because she’s here and all those memories of Sarah…you’ll always be his daughter. You know that, right?’

She was scribbling circles in the margins of her workbook. She didn’t say yes or no. You knew you couldn’t promise anything, not with Joel so unpredictable, but you knew how much he loved her, how much he went through every day to keep her safe.

You thought for a second. No, you couldn’t promise her what Joel would or wouldn’t do. But you could do something better.

‘Ellie, look at me,’ you said, and she finally raised her eyes to yours, surprised by the seriousness of your tone. ‘You might be young but you and I, I feel like we click, right?’ you said, and you were relieved when she nodded at you, owlish eyes watching you carefully. ‘I know things were a bit wobbly before, and I’m so sorry about that, I really am. I need you to know I’m always going to care about you, and I will always be there if you need me, and I know Joel’s…Joel...so just know that I’m…me. And I’m here for you. I am.’

Ellie stared at you, unblinking for a second. You could see she was uncomfortable, that the sincerity wasn’t familiar to her. You shared the feeling, holding firm in the face of it for this teenage girl you suddenly realised you had more than an affinity with, that you had genuine affection for, too.

‘Ok,’ she said, eventually. You knew her well enough to know she was fighting off the urge to make a joke of it.

‘Ok,’ you said, a little relieved the moment was over. She went back to her paper, then snapped her gaze back to yours.

‘You wouldn’t lie to me, right?’ she asked you, and you shook your head.

‘No, of course not,’ you said. She considered this, studying you in that way she had. ‘Do you think I’ve lied to you about something?’ you asked.

‘No, not you,’ she said, plainly, finding x by taking out her marker and circling it right there on the page.

--

Joel didn’t much care for politics. He didn’t have the patience for it, always considered himself too impatient, too pragmatic. If there was something that needed doing he’d just do it, and he wasn’t all that fussed about how people felt about it. So it was that he admired Tommy, although Joel knew Maria had a lot to do with it. Even though he knew Shauna was giving him a run for his money, even though he knew she would persist with whatever the hell she wanted until she eventually got it, he admired the fortitude of his brother and his brother’s wife. His sister in law. Whatever you wanted to call it.

It was another warm night, and he sat out on his porch rocking gently in the breeze. Out here the light wasn’t too good, probably not good enough for whittling, and he told himself that was why he held the knife still in his hands, unable to think of what to make. Ellie was too old for this stuff now, and he knew that from when Sarah grew out of it. The first thing he’d ever whittled Sarah was a butterfly, a clumsy looking thing that she’d loved anyway, in that way little girls love anything their daddies make just for them, and she took out her paints and gave it colours over its wings, reds and purples and blues that caught the light when she put it on her dresser by the window.

Joel swallowed. He hadn’t thought about that butterfly in decades, but now he could feel the weight of it in palm clear as day, could see Sarah holding it aloft in the air as she ‘flew’ with it across the living room, up over the couch and towards the top of the dinner table until he caught her and pulled her back down.

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t do another butterfly. He just hoped you weren’t planning on teachin’ any insects for the next little while.

He heard footsteps approaching, and he set his knife down.

‘Joel…’ Shauna almost whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing a little while he enjoyed his last few seconds of peace.

‘Here,’ he called to her as she appeared at the top step, huffing a little, out of breath, and when she didn’t speak he looked at her, properly. He realised she was scared, eyes locked on his like she was pleading with him for somethin’. He felt a bolt up his spine.

‘What…?’ he asked, already standing from his chair, walking over to her and steadying her with his hands.

‘I don’t…I didn’t want to say anything,’ she said, ‘I didn’t think I should. I wasn’t sure.’

‘What are you talkin’ about?’

‘It’s just…you have to promise me, that if things go bad…that you’ll…that I can be safe with you, Joel, please.’

She was trembling, her face contorted in worry.

‘Tell me what’s goin’ on, then we can figure out who’s safe with who,’ he said.

‘Joel they’re planning an attack,’ she rushed out, her eyes wide and darting over his face. ‘Tonight maybe. Tomorrow, I’m not sure. Steve and Wren…they never wanted to expand just wanted the map of the place, made me get it for them. I had to, I didn’t think I could say no, not when…Joel, they’re dangerous men.’

He immediately thought of you, raising his head in the direction of your house as if he could smell danger curling its way down the street.

‘What are they planning, Shauna?’ he asked, and she swallowed, hard, tears forming in her eyes. ‘Explosion, the mess hall’ she said. It was nearing dinner, half the town would be there. He didn’t know where Ellie was, assumed she was with you, hoped to all the gods he could think of he was right. All he could think was get to his girls, get to his girls. Shauna was still talking, grasping at his arms now. He forced himself to concentrate. ‘The gas line, Joel. It’s above the street, and it runs right down the middle of the mess hall.’

Taglist (as always lemme know if you wanna jump on):

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@vickie5446

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@orcasoul

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[j0kers-light]

OMFG CHAOS! ♡ ︎♡ ︎♡ ︎

I am obsessed with your version of airhead!reader!! She's so soft and naive and ahhhh! 😝 I see alot of myself in her and I was thinking bout a request where J snaps at her probably for no reason, this is J he's always being a big meanie! Maybe she runs off and he has to calm her down somehow? I know you will come up with something better than I can! I love your writing!!!!1 Oh and pls take your time girly no pressure if you don't wanna write this! 💕

Luv you Chaos !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Hey hi my lovely anon! 🖤✨

I'm so happy you loved airhead!reader, I'm always self conscious about writing for a pink aesthetic since I hate that color with a passion 😤 but, this ain't about me. You asked and I shall deliver!

I hope you enjoy anon! I wrote this while bedridden from my period, so if there are any errors haha no there isn't 😉

After your unexpected visit to Joker’s hideout with your bright smile and tasty sweets, you are welcomed with open arms by his crew.

They can’t help but love your adoring personality!

Joker might not like you around his organization, but he can’t deny you anything if it makes you happy. And being apart (a tiny part) makes you very, very happy 🥰

You waltz in almost every Friday with baked treats for everyone to enjoy, bringing rays of sunshine with you. ☀️✨

The goons let you play Mario Kart with a customized pink controller and include you in on juicy gossip around the hideout to keep you company while Joker is out terrorizing the city.

However, more often than not, you are left to your own devices because everyone is busy.

And that spells trouble because you don’t understand the concept of danger. At. All. 🙃

You wander the hideout and unknowingly meddle in things that should be left alone.

You almost got hurt from a few well placed boobytrap and you almost burned down the abandoned kitchen after trying to light the oven.

That thing has seen better days decades ago but you swore you could fix it. You of all people...

Joker isn’t happy. His Sunlight is a magnet for danger and he honestly wishes you would stay far farrrrr away from his operations but again.

When has he ever said no to his sweet girl? It’s virtually impossible, so you keep visiting much to his annoyance.

Joker’s solution is to lock you inside his office but that soon backfires when you throw a tantrum and somehow hurt yourself.

He’s more annoyed that you broke his favorite office chair so when you whine that you’re in pain? Oh Joker has had enough.

Joker came back from an unsuccessful mission to loud sobs coming from his office. Frost shrugged his shoulders before uttering, “I don’t get paid enough.” as he walked off.

Pussy. Fine, Joker could handle this! He wasn’t terrified of you..

When he opened the door and saw you sitting on the floor with his broken chair lying in pieces around you, his already limited patience evaporated like vapor.

“What did ya get into now?” He groaned.

You sobered up your tears and tried to greet Joker but the large cut on your leg stung too much so you remain seated. You weren’t expecting J to be in such a nasty mood.

“Are ya too dumb to speak, Y/n? I asked a question?” He rolled his eyes when your lower lip wobbled.

Sure you were a bit ditzy, but Joker never insulted you about it. To hear him belittle you at a time like this, hurt more than falling out of the chair.

You tried to respond but apparently not fast enough for J’s liking.

“You wouldn’t be sitting there lookin’ stupid if ya stayed at home! Whyy do I keep you around?”

The last part was said under his breath but you heard it loud and clear and it shattered your heart.

You ignored the pain and ran out of Joker’s office, a sobbing mess. He waved you off and set to work cleaning up the mess you left behind. He’d deal with you later.

When he reached down to pick up a broken piece, it sliced through his hand and made him hiss. It didn’t hurt him but that wasn’t the case for you.

His sweet Sunlight with your low tolerance to pain. It must’ve been agonizing. Seeing droplets of blood on the floor made him feel instant guilt.

Joker knew he messed up and chased after you to make things right.

You were startled awake by something soft brushing against your lips.

You almost freaked my but stopped the second you saw Joker laying on the bed beside you, spinning a flower in between his fingers.

He brushed it along the tear tracks that stained your cheeks, “I hate when ya cry…”

J sucked at apologizing but you knew by his sheepish behavior, that it was genuine. He didn’t know how to say, I’m sorry. So he found other ways.

It wouldn’t kill him to say it and you fixed your lips to help him out when the same flower trailed down your cheek, past your lips, and slipped straight to your leg.

You’re shocked to see that it was cleaned up and a pretty pink bandaid was covering the wound you had from earlier. You were speechless. Did J do that for you?

Joker watched you pensively as he brushed the wound with the flower. “I was mad earlier n’ took it out on you. I uh.. I didn’t mean what I said.. mkay? Kisses?”

He nudged a giant bouquet of flowers you didn’t notice closer to you on the bed and waited for your response. He looked absolutely pitiful, expecting your forgiveness.

What Joker said to you was really hurtful however he didn’t have to treat your wound or buy you flowers as an apology. With Joker, actions spoke louder than words so you knew he was truly sorry for being mean.

You couldn’t stand his green puppy dog eyes any longer. You never stayed mad at J for too long.

He breathed a sigh of relief when you leaned in to kiss him but panicked when you pulled away rather abruptly, “Don’t ever call me stupid again.” You warned.

Joker frantically nodded, “M’promise pretty girl, I won’t.”

[freesia-writes]

hello friend, for the valentines rec - would you be interested in doing a fake dating/relationship situation b/w Crosshair and f!reader? go wild with why they have to fake date 😂

thankssss ❤️HB

THE CROSSHAIR EFFECT got me on this one! 😂 Sometimes when I write him, I just get absolutely sucked in. So this one had me in a mood and I quite enjoyed it. It's a little stereotypical or trope-y or something, but it's delightfully indulgent in my doofus opinion. So I hope you enjoy! 😊 Dividers by @stars-n-spice on this post here.

Crosshair x F!Reader Word Count: 2000ish, hehe Content Warnings: just kissin and in-universe cussin

OH, and since this takes place at a fancy gala, I have to link this gorgeous fanart by @perfectlywingedcrusade because it's just fitting and should be appreciated by everyone. They're lovely images of Crosshair and her OC, so check em out!

A kiss on the hand and a cup of the face

Holding each other close in fancy attire

Out for a stroll while lookin good

The grand gala was in full swing, the opulent castle venue aglow with soft, golden light and the murmur of animated conversations. You and Crosshair, disguised as a wealthy couple, moved gracefully through the crowd, your steps synchronized as you navigated the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The stoic sniper's presence beside you was palpable, his every movement calculated and precise. His sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail with a keen eye for potential threats. Despite the formal attire he wore, there was an unmistakable air of danger about him, a reminder of the skilled soldier lurking beneath the facade of a sophisticated gentleman. And it kinda gave you the tingles.

As you exchanged pleasantries with other guests, your mind raced with the mission at hand. The two of you had been tasked with infiltrating the gala to gather intel on a new weapon being developed by the Separatists. It was a high-stakes operation, and the success of the mission relied on your ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd while discreetly gathering information.

You stole a glance at him, marveling at the effortless way he maintained his cover. His demeanor was cool and collected, his expression unreadable as he engaged in polite conversation with the other guests. You marveled at his ability to remain composed under pressure, and if you were being honest, you’d admired him for a long time, and had given in to an increasing amount of time spent thinking about being with him in various scenarios. So when this mission had come up in such a way that required you to pretend you were in a relationship, you’d had to fight hard to keep your face neutral and even harder to ignore the pronounced eyeroll and scoff of disgust he’d made.

You were still trying to push the thought from your mind as you leaned against the bar, having split up to different parts of the room. You could swear there had been some significant moments between the two of you, conversations that showed some vulnerability, slight softening in his piercing glares… But sometimes you wondered if the entire dynamic was just wishful thinking on your part. 

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” a fellow attendee said, sidling up beside you at the bar. You gave a small smile and a nod, just enough to acknowledge him without being memorable in any way, hoping he would take the hint. 

He didn’t.

“Where are you from?” he pressed, stepping slightly closer and holding up two fingers to the bartender, who had waved to him for his order. “I feel like I’d remember a beautiful thing like you.” You had your selection of default answers, offering some uninteresting and vague information, but he was a bona fide hemorrhoid, weaseling ever closer both verbally and physically. 

“I feel like you’re not being entirely honest with me,” he purred, tilting his head and reaching to trace fingers along your arm. 

“I’m not sure I want to tell all my secrets to someone I just met,” you replied, matching his suggestive energy to avoid triggering any toxic masculinity. You gave him a small smile, but it was met with a furrowed brow that made you start to feel a little anxious at how to get out of this particular situation. 

Right on cue, however, Crosshair stepped in, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up at him, face relaxing into content familiarity. 

"Darling, there you are," he said smoothly, flashing the intruder a charming smile. The honey-sweet words in his sibilant, smoky tone were absolutely intoxicating, and you silently cursed the flush that bloomed across your cheeks without your permission. "I've been looking all over for you." 

The guest faltered, taken aback by Crosshair's sudden appearance, and when the sniper turned to face him fully, positively exuding confidence, he excused himself with a polite nod.

"Thanks," you murmured, grateful for the diversion.

"Don't mention it," he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "We have to be convincing, don’t we…”

“Sorry you got stuck doing this with me.” You felt a wave of frustration wash over you, beginning to feel tired of the way he seemed to jerk you back and forth between softness and harshness, fondness and disdain. You wished he would just come clean one way or the other.

“A mission’s a mission.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, feeling your mood souring by the second.

“Problem?” he asked quietly, forcing the fakest smile you’d ever seen as a couple passed by and fluttered their fans in your direction. It made you want to punch him. 

“Nope. Just… On a mission.” You pulled your fur more tightly around you, scanning the room for the targets who were supposed to have the inside info. You’d had yet to locate them, despite schmoozing for the last hour or two. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the flow of your hair into a regal bun at the nape of your neck, nor the way they continued back up across your face, unreadable emotion flickering just beneath the surface. 

“Oh, Chris, you’re hilarious,” you proclaimed, in the snooty voice you’d adopted around others. You could tell it grated on Crosshair’s nerves, and you couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction you felt when his steely gaze met yours for a moment in the privacy of a quick sideways look. You knew there’d be hell to pay later for randomly giving him a name like that, but you didn’t care. Your feet were aching and you’d been done with all the fake socializing about an hour and a half ago. But the two of you had finally worked your way into the “inner circle of sleemos”, as your partner had deemed them, and now were the critical moments upon which the entire mission hinged. 

“Not nearly as delightful as you, my little poodoo,” he answered, earning a round of gasps and chuckles from the uppity crowd. 

“I say!” declared a man with a huge space-walrus mustache. “That is quite the nickname, my good boy!” He chuffed heartily, casting a side glance at his tall, spiky wife who clearly didn’t approve. Quickly changing his demeanor, he was shaking his head in somber disapproval by the time he looked back at you. 

“Oh, we’re just so… so close…” Crosshair continued, almost choking on his words as he looped an arm around your waist again and pulled you against him so abruptly that a little bit of your drink sloshed out of the glowing martini glass. You quickly turned your splutter of indignation into a playful giggle, not so subtly digging an elbow between his ribs as best you could. “I could just call her every name in the book,” he gushed, poking the tip of your nose with a single finger. 

“Oh goodness,” you laughed, downing the rest of your drink in one huge gulp. “Would you excuse us? And can I get anyone else another drink?” You turned away so quickly, grabbing your partner by the arm and dragging him along, that you didn’t see Mr. Walrus Stache lifting a finger to take you up on that drink offer. Instead, you did your best to hide the absolute rage you felt beneath the surface as you found a side door out onto a small balcony. There was a single member of the waitstaff there, a Rhodian who was taking a drag off a long cigarette, and his luminous eyes narrowed at the two of you as you appeared, flicking the ash off the end of his smoke and dropping it to the ground before stalking back to work. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Crosshair began, turning on you as soon as the last tails of the server’s apron were out of sight. You looked up at him, too frustrated to enjoy how close he was as he loomed above you furiously. “We finally get--”

“ME?!” you spluttered, grasping the shiny lapels of his suit jacket, “You think we’re gonna get anywhere with you calling me poodoo?!” In any other context, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation would have been hilarious, but the simmering undercurrent had risen to a rollicking boil, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Well if you weren’t acting like such a little shi--”

“You’re ridiculous!” you yelled, fists clenched at your sides. But before you could finish the rest of your retort, his hand was clapped over your mouth, cutting off any further attempts to lash out at him. It did not, however, help to quell the fury within. You grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling at it in futility, then froze completely as he stepped in close, wedging a thigh between your legs and flattening you against the stone wall of the castle with his entire body. “What the f--”

“Just shut up for one second,” he hissed, and the sheer intensity of his presence combined with the exhilaration of him pressed against you took every last thought and word right out of your brain. You let out a breath, heart pounding against his chest where he’d bent himself around you, eyes large as they locked on his. He slowly removed his hand, wiping it on his pants with a slight wrinkle of the nose, then tucked it into his pocket, leaving the other arm braced on the wall above you. “Listen,” he said, quietly now, with an urgency yet softness that melted you to your core. “Whatever… this… is…” He took a deep breath, then continued, “We need to get that intel. Then you can… take care of yourself…” He finished with a tiny, confident nod, stepping back in surprise when you burst into laughter.

“Take care of myself?” You slapped your hands flat on his chest, pushing him away with playful force as you felt yourself puffing up again to put him in his place. “Crosshair, you don’t have a damn clue, do you…” You ran out of steam as you registered the myriad of emotions on his face, slowly falling silent as he closed the distance between the two of you again, emanating a different kind of energy this time. 

“Care to enlighten me, then?” he asked, tilting his head at you with equal parts condescension and provocation. There was a smolder in his pale brown eyes that made your heart skip a beat, and you were so overrun with feelings of your own that you couldn’t even begin to sort out one from another. You reached for his lapels again, now using them to pull him back against you as you brought your mouth to his with a forceful, determined kiss. His tiny huff of an exhale had a million possible meanings, but you didn’t care, because one of his hands found your waist and the other cupped the back of your head, pressing his face into yours with a hunger that set your… heart… on fire. 

You lost track of everything else as your senses were flooded with every magnificent aspect of him… His scent, touched up with a ritzy fragrance he’d added for the evening… His slightly raspy breathing… The warmth and passion that radiated from his strong, focused frame. The feeling of his mouth on yours was everything you’d imagined it to be, and he pulled back for a short breath of air before turning his head the other direction and capturing your lips again, slightly more open this time as you melted against him.

It felt like a split second and an hour later when you separated, with deep, ragged breaths and a blissfully dumbfounded look on your face, staring at him in awe and unabashed delight. He kept his face stoic, though there was a slight glow to his cheeks and a spark in his eyes that made your knees weak. 

“Now can you keep your head on straight?” he poked, stepping back and straightening his suit. 

“Absolutely not.”

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[barleyo]

Pollen.

Recom! Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader

A/N: I finished this is 3 hours, so this might seem a little rushed, but I am obsessed with this man in a life-consuming, unhealthy, scary way. I just feel the need to share the goings on of my mind with you all via my writing, so prepare for a LOT of Miles Quaritch posts. When I say a lot... I mean it.

(PART TWO IS OUT)

Wordcount: 1.4k

TAGS: Age difference, phone sex, public masturbation, solo fem and male masturbation, mutual masturbation, voice fetish, sex pollen, phone sex with a stranger, interspecies relationship

Solo missions were not uncommon for Miles. Any one-man job immediately went to him, as a colonel he could hold his own, however, the forests of Pandora were not kind to lone wolves. Everything and anything out in the wild posed a threat, animals and natives. Plants.

He was confident in his physical abilities, and even though he didn’t like to admit it, he was ignorant to the flora and fauna of this world, so in his mind, everything was blended together into a pool of danger and death. Any sound in the still forest was a red flag to him, any leaf crunching or branch shifting caught his attention. That’s why he was so quick to turn around when a loud rustling of leaves sounded behind him.

“Ha!” Quaritch turned around, gun held up in defense, ready to shoot. He held the gun steadily as the sound continued. He slowly brought his gun back into its proper place, strapped over his bare, azure shoulder.

Just as his guard fell, a small wisp of color lunged past him, knocking him onto the forest floor. He looked up, not seeing the creature, whatever it had been. Pushing himself up, he noticed that he had touched a mushroom-like plant. It was bioluminescent, and left a powdery dust on his palm.

“This fuckin’ place,” he sighed, wiping the white dust off onto his cargos. His face scrunched up in discomfort  as an itching sensation ticked at his hand. He scratched at it to no avail. The feeling built quickly from a small itch to a flaming burn. 

The heat spread from his hands to his arms, then to his chest, and soon coated his entire body. It felt as if he were submerged into a body of boiling water like he was being cooked, simmered and stewed in a pot.

“What was that shit?” He groaned, feeling the slick of his sweat drench through his shirt. Quaritch dug through his pant’s pockets and grabbed his walkie talkie, speaking into the front of it. “Colonel to Blue Team, over.” The line was dangerously quiet, the only sound being the fizzing of the radio. “Blue Team? Lyle?” He cursed, not receiving a response. “Forgot how bad the connection was on these things.”

He smacked the device, hoping it would offer him a clear connection. With his slicked palms, he dropped the walkie talkie, muttering profanities to himself. He snatched it and held it to his ear as a final pathetic attempt to connect to his team. “Hello? Anyone there, for God’s sake?” 

To his surprise, there was an answer. Not just any answer, but a soft, clear one.

“Hello? Hello, are you there? This is (Y/N).” 

He shuddered. From relief, maybe, but the warmth spreading to his crotch pointed towards arousal. It confused him, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard a voice as beautiful as this one, but instead of dwelling on it, he frantically spoke back. 

“Yeah, ‘m here, Colonel Miles Quaritch, over.” His mouth was dry and his tongue felt far too large,

“Colonel? Uhm, well, what has you tuned into the lab department’s line? Can I help you?”

Such a beautiful voice, even for a science puke, he thought. “Damn radio won't connect to my team line, but I’m out in the middle of nowhere in this God forsaken forest. I fell on some weird mushroom lookin’ thing and now I’m so itchy and sweaty that I can’t even fuckin’ think straight,” he said into the device, “Hell, I can barely walk. It’s starting to hurt too.” He stretched the fingers on his aching palm, trying to soothe it. It did not work and the pain only shot through the rest of his body, just as the itching and burning had as well.

“Oh, Mr. Quaritch, I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman replied, urgency in her voice, “can you tell me what this ‘mushroom’ looked like more specifically?” There was a twinge of excitement in her voice that pissed him off.

“What’s that gonna do? Damn it, can you just put me on with my team?”

“Please, calm down. If I can figure out what you have interacted with, I can tell you how to fix it.”

He sighed. “I already told you, it was like a mushroom. It left this weird powdery shit on my hand.”

“Powder? Oh my,” she sucked in a breath, “Colonel, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me. Are you, uh, are you–”

“Miss, can you spit it out already? I don’t have time for this, if you’ve forgotten, I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere and sweating buckets right now.”

“Are you hard right now? Your– your dick, is it hard?”

Quaritch swallowed thickly, feeling the bulge in his pants twitch again.

“Yes, really hard. What does that have to do with anything?”

“The plant that you had touched, it is known to release pollen that arouses one to an extreme, if you do not satisfy yourself soon, the pain will be unbearable.” Miles could hear panic in the woman’s voice and the click of a door as if it were being locked. “You understand, don’t you, Colonel?”

“It’s already awful.” A groan reverberated in his chest as he spoke, “So I’m supposed to jerk myself off in the middle of the forest, right in the open?”

“I’m afraid so, please you must start now, the pain will be much worse without stimulation.” 

He nodded, even though he knew she would not know and unbuttoned his pants, pulled his boxers down, and freed his dick. It was striped, just like the rest of his Na’vi body that he was slowly getting used to. 

Miles nervously grabbed his own length. This wasn’t the first time he had touched himself in his Na’vi form, it was second nature to him now, but this was the first time he had done it out in the open, and the first time he had done it with a woman talking him through it. 

He pumped slowly, fucking his fist. He couldn’t help but imagine his hand being the warm, tight cunt of the woman on the other line. A trembling moan strained from his mouth as he picked up the pace, seeking more friction in his palm. “(Y/N)--”

“I’m still here, sir, don’t worry,” she said, comfortingly.

His face flushed with a purple tint, not realizing she was still there. Obviously she was still on the line, it’s not like she could just leave, he rationalized it in his head. “It still hurts so bad, darlin’, fucking my hand ain’t helping,” he groaned.

“Just try, you must do it. You must cum, Colonel, please. Do it for me,” she whispered into the walkie talkie, embarrassed yet aroused by her own words.

“Fuck,” he hissed, sharp teeth barring down. “Need ya’ to touch yourself too, not fair if it’s only me.” Pre-cum oozed from his fat, leaky tip, beading at his hole.

“O-oh, I’m not sure..” her hands rested on the band of her panties, undecidedly fiddling with the elastic. 

“Can’t cum unless you do it with me, missy, c’mon, need it bad.” His hips bucked into his hand again, moans catching in his throat.

(Y/N) hummed and slipped her hand into her pants. She slid the tips of her fingers through her wet folds, rubbing past her clit with gentle strokes. Focusing on the peaked bud, she drew tight, neat circles over it and felt her thighs try to close over her hand. “Oh, Christ, Mr. Quaritch, it feels good, mm.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know. Tell me when you’re ready, wanna cum with you.”

Lazily slowing down, Miles gave (Y/N) a chance to catch up with him. When he could hear breathy, needy moans from the line, he continued at his earlier pace, slamming his hips into his hand. Her whines were sweet to his ears, he could practically smell her, taste her. He threw his head back and huffed. 

“Close, ‘m really close.”

“Gonna cum, baby girl? C’mon, cum like you’d cum all over my cock,” he rutted into his fist, feeling his balls tighten and stomach coil.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” she drawled out a messy, noisy moan, “Cummin’ now, sir, ah–”

“Good job, baby,” he said through gritted teeth as he spilled his seed on the ground, fucking himself through his fading orgasm.

There was a long, comfortable silence on each line as they each caught their breath. Miles was the one to break the silence. 

“Thank you for helping out, bunny, but it just wasn’t enough. Still hurting. Gonna help me when I get back to base?”

“Yes, sir. Let me find some proper directions so you can come home.”

“Be ready for me when I get there, I wanna see you as soon as I get there, girl.”

[santaasi]

top secret

pairing: fbi!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you and JJ are the best FBI agents who went undercover at a charity dinner to catch a dangerous criminal. but JJ can't concentrate on the case at all, because all he can see is your smile

warnings: english is not my first language, no use of y/n

word count: 1.3k

“Y'KNOW, IF YOU KEEP LOOKIN' AT ME LIKE THAT YOU'LL PROBABLY MISS OUR SUSPECT, MAYBANK,” you whispered softly in his ear, eyes scanning the hall.

It was nearing eleven o'clock in the evening, and Cameron's charity dinner was in full swing. The once intimate gathering had swelled into a lively, bustling event as more people arrived, their laughter and conversation blending into a symphony of clinking glasses and murmured voices, occasionally overwhelming the elegant strains of the live orchestra. It was like those rosy childhood dreams of becoming a princess, marrying a prince, and living in a big beautiful castle filled with happiness and love. Part of you was even offended that you were in such a beautiful place, spinning in the arms of your sexy boss to fabulous music, and it was all not for pleasure, but for the sole purpose of catching Rafe Cameron, who always managed to slip through your fingers.

You kept a vigilant eye on the main entrance, scanning for the elusive criminal who had brought you both here. Meanwhile, JJ skillfully guided you across the ballroom, his hand firm yet gentle on your bare back, drawing you closer with each step. His breath, warm and tantalizing, brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making it momentarily difficult to focus on anything other than the electric connection between you. The room was a blur of twinkling chandeliers, swirling gowns, and polished smiles, but all you could think about was the intoxicating blend of danger and desire that permeated the air.

 “Don't know what you're talking ‘bout, cupcake. You’d better focus on the case.” 

The man cleared his throat softly, immediately turned his gaze back to the crowd and a slight smile played on your face. You've caught JJ's eye on you too often tonight, which couldn't help but amuse your ego. You liked watching his reaction—seeing him blush, squirm, and immediately turn away as if he hadn't been looking at you with those blue eyes at all. Hearing JJ's voice betray him for a split second, with notes of excitement in it, and feeling his hand squeeze your palm a little harder. In all your five years working in the department under his leadership, this was the first time you had seen JJ Maybank like this... confused.

“Whatever you say, boss”

JJ shuddered, hearing you call him "boss." He was totally out of his mind today. JJ thought he was prepared to see you all dolled up, but he couldn't have been more wrong. You were always beautiful, even when tired, with dark circles under your eyes and dressed in a baggy tracksuit after another grueling case. But in that red dress, hugging your curves perfectly, with your hair styled and the final touch—those damn red lips—he was a goner. 

You tried to stifle a laugh, but it still reached his ears. Stopping in the very heart of the hall, JJ pulled away slightly and looked seriously into your surprised eyes, eyes in which he immediately felt lost. A wave of goosebumps rippled through his body, and Maybank broke eye contact again, unable to handle the intensity.

“Are you laughing at me?” he exhaled, his gaze wandering around the hall.

“Not at you,” you smiled again, drawing JJ's attention back to you. “At your reaction. You’re acting weird today, Jay!”

Your soft laugh danced through the ballroom, a sound so delicate that only JJ seemed to catch it. He cleared his throat once more, turning to you with a smile that barely masked his inner turmoil. In that fleeting moment, all his thoughts dissipated, giving way to the radiant beauty of your eyes and smile—more breathtaking than a thousand stars.

You've always had this incredible effect on your boss. Over the five years of working together, every time he looked at you, the world seemed to fade away. In those years, he had fought to suppress his feelings, denying them, closing off his heart, convinced that love was a mere illusion. He feared that if he allowed himself to get too close, you would inevitably leave, just as others had.

And then there was the job—the ever-present, unyielding job that was always the priority. He was your boss, and as FBI agents, both of you were bound by a code that demanded the eradication of personal feelings. Emotions could be a distraction, and in this line of work, distractions were dangerous. JJ was determined to avoid letting you become his weakness. He didn't want the burden of personal concerns to interfere with the cases, knowing that suspects and investigations would not forgive such lapses. The job demanded a level of detachment that JJ wasn't willing to compromise, and he feared that allowing you into his heart might jeopardize everything he had worked for.

But now, standing in the middle of the ballroom, enveloped by Chopin's melody, holding you in his arms and gazing into your eyes, JJ Maybank realized that love did not exist only before you. On the very day when a spirited girl, fresh out of the police academy, appeared at the doorstep of his office, JJ Maybank's life had changed forever.

“Yeah, I really feel strange today... It's just…” JJ grinned thoughtfully, trying to somehow put all his thoughts together, but while you were smiling at him like that, he could only enjoy. 

“What, Jay?”  You asked, frowning slightly. “Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you have a fever, or…”

"I just like your smile, cupcake," JJ said, cutting you off in mid—sentence. Your face has started to look a little like your scarlet dress. “In fact, your smile is the best thing that has happened in my life”

For the first time all evening, you were utterly speechless. The warmth of JJ's words left you blushing deeply. You found yourself fumbling for words, feeling like a teenager caught off guard, your gaze dropping in embarrassment. JJ's grin widened as he leaned in, tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. You could feel the heat of his breath searing your skin near your ear, causing you to emit a soft squeak. JJ’s laughter rumbled softly, but it was quickly replaced by a sudden tension as his gaze shifted to the person who had brought you here.

“Well, duty calls, cupcake,” JJ said, spinning you around in the dance.

 Pressed firmly against his chest, it took you a moment to focus on what JJ was saying. Your attention was drawn to Rafe Cameron, who stood with his back to you, casually sipping champagne from a glass and mingling with his unsavory buddies. The sight of him made your heart race with the realization that you were not only on the brink of solving the FBI case but also unraveling your own personal mystery—the one that had brought you into this field in the first place.

“I guess we'll save the conversation for later, boss,” you whispered softly. Your lips nearly brushed his earlobe as you giggled softly, then took a step back, offering a slight curtsy. But before you could move too far away, JJ gently touched your arm.

“Be. Careful,” he whispered, his serious gaze searching yours.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you replied playfully, winking at him before turning around.

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission might just change your life in more ways than one.

thankx for reading <3

I enjoyed writing this au so much. and I have so many ideas about these two. so if any of you want, I can make a mini-series out of it. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

[pixeechix21]

All I want for Christmas 🎄

Simon!Ghost!Riley x fem!reader 12 days of Christmas

Summary: It's your turn to sit on Santa's lap. Tell him what you want and maybe he's feeling giving enough to grant you your wish.

TW: nothing really just good old smut, with some role play?, n sweet names and praise the usual 😊💕

I'm sorry but what the heck is this man doin in this gif?? 🤨

You promised your best friend you wouldn’t get that drunk. But after hearing the 141 boys were hosting a Christmas party you couldn’t help yourself. 

Dancing and chatting with your friends, you abruptly hear clapping and jeers. Entering the room is a dressed up Price. You and the girl's dog whistle him as he walks past. “Red looks good on you Simon,” you cheer. 

Johnny had managed to coerce Simon to dress up as Father Christmas. Placing him on the “throne” near the karaoke machine. “Come up! Come up everyone! Santa’s lap is open for all. Don’t miss your chance lassies and you Gaz I ya lookin’ at him!” Everyone lifts their cheers as Gaz is shoved to the front. Smiling widely, Simon’s cheerful eyes meet yours. He winks subtly, making your stomach flip and turn. 

Gaz does his theatrics, sitting on his lap and fake fanning his face in excitement. He leaves, giving Simon a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “thank you thank you! I promise I’ve been good!”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Simon shoves him off jokingly. Keeping his eyes on you Simon opens his legs leaning back and patting it, “for you,” he mouths. 

Jonny sees you in your costume. You’d lost a bet and had to dress up as a slutty elf. “Maybe Santa’s elf wants to finally sit on the throne,” he comes to you, you weakly attempt to back away. From behind you’re shoved into his arms . He takes you to Simon, excitedly. Sitting on his lap, Simon snakes his hand around your waist. Johnny is about to open his mouth ready to make a joke but Simon beats him to it. “That’s enough Soap, now fuck off.” He doesn't spare him another glance.

Sitting there on his lap, you pray he can’t feel heartbeat. “So, tell me, have you been good, my sweet?” His tone has changed, low and private between the two of you. Your hand loops around his neck running your nails through his hair. If it wasn’t for the loud music and chatting crowd you swear you would have heard him groan. “I’ve tried to be,” you sit up further on his lap, “I’ve tried to be a good girl, just for you,’ you whisper, he looks hungrily at your soft lips. 

“Is there anything you want this year, since you’ve been on your best behavior?” His thumb starts to draw lazy circles on your exposed inner thigh. Close, so dangerously close, you lightly clench your thighs. 

“There is one thing you could give me,” you don’t recognize your own sultry voice. Glad everyone is too drunk to notice.

“Mmm. What’s that my sweet?” he inhales as he pushes away your hair, leaving your neck exposed. You inhale shakily.

“You.” you let out weakly melting into his increasingly possessive grip. You’re without a doubt that he can feel your heartbeat throbbing, on his leg.

“I didn’t hear you my little elf,” his hand inches up, under the mini skirt. 

“I- i want- you.” you place your hand on his muscled chest. 

“Me too darling,” he doesn’t waste time scooping you up in a bridal hold. He gets up leaving the room smiling at Soap as you two pass by. Over his shoulder you see Johnny’s shocked expression, mouth wide open. 

Simon is on a mission, he bursts through an office door. Shutting it he adjusts your legs to wrap around his waist. He captures your lips between his, crashing into you removing all air from your lungs. You sink into him, inhaling his deep kisses. Your hands scratch all over his body trying to take off his ridiculous clothes. “God y/n,” he kisses hot trails across your collarbone. 

“I need you Si. I need you in me,” you whine as he helps you undo his belt. You’re so wet against his palm, his index and middle finger running along you sweet cunt. 

“I know, I can feel you,” he pinches lightly the growing bud of your clit. A shot of fireball couldn’t compare to the dizziness that fogs your mind. You buck and moan beautifully in his ear. “Don’t want the others to see how bad you’ve been,” he takes out his cock, running himself up and down. Slapping your clit you jolt at the sharp sensation. He moves the panties to the side. “Let me give you what you want luv. Relax for me,” biting his neck, his enlarged tip pushed past your entrance. “Take it, it’s just for you my sweet,” he pants as one hand supports your ass, the other caging you in, hand on door. 

Using his powerful muscles he fucks you. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and sinch his waist. “Fuck- Simon- I need you,” head resting on his shoulder, you kiss his neck refraining the loud whines from falling past your lips. 

“That’s it baby, it’s all yours,” he growls. And you do, you take every fucking painful inch of his throbbing cock. Hitting the sweet spot deep within you. 

“Simon,” you moan, clawing at him. He doesn’t stop. The friction of your panties stimulate your clit. You fuck him back, taking his lips with yours. Licking, biting, breathing messily. Your climax overcomes every single muscular control you hold. Sighing into his mouth he sucks your hot whining. He’s not far behind you as he jerks, coming as he feels you around him. 

Setting you down gently he steadies you, before you can stumble. Putting your panties back as you help zip his trousers.

Flushed and tired, you figure it’d be best to go to bed. Holding you close he walks you to your room, always alert.

[thineferalrats]

a/n- Hiiiiii, I got this idea of you patching Frank up , but your son walks in and he finds out you have one and Frank feels bad because he feels like he’s puting you a now even a little boy in danger by just being near you two fluff/angst 🫴

warning: uhh ig just sad and frank crying idfk 🫶

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3rd person pov:

You grabbed the first aid kit out of the dining room counter, as Frank sits on the dinning room chair you, you where used to patching Frank up in odd hours of the night, you hated seeing him beat up like this, you hated not knowing if some blood on him was his own or someone else’s

, “here drink this” you said handing him a bottle of his favorite beer that you always kept in your fridge for him, he nodded at you as a thank you before opening it, you grabbed your needle and stitching materials to clean and tend to a stab wound on his side. Frank took off his shirt to give you access to the wound, you got on one knee in front of him and began to stitch him up, he winced from the pain. “What happen this time” you asked him not taking your eyes off stitching the wound, “eh some guy at a bar” he replies obviously not telling you the truth, because he believes “the less you know the better”. “I wish you’d be honest with me” you say under your breath but just loud enough Frank could make out what you said, he lets out a sigh “you know why I don’t”,

you snip the end of the stitches and stand up, before you can answer you hear a little voice from the end of the stairs “mommy?” Your son Milo says you turn around to see him holding his teddy bear and wearing his shark pjs rubbing his eyes, Frank looks at you confused, “hey sharky, what ya doing up this late little man” you walk up to him and get down to his level giving your son a soft warm smile, “I couldn sleep” Milo replies, you brush some hair out of his face “alright baby, be up in a minute to tuck you in and read you a story, run back up to your room for now why I help my friend out” you say and Milo nods and turns around and waddle walks back up the stairs and you walk back over to Frank he has a nervous look on his face

“you have a kid?!” He asks you with a surprised tone, you where concerned about the his nervous look, “yeah, you normally come over when he’s fast asleep upstairs or at daycare” you say as you start grabbing stuff to clean off the dried blood around the wound you stitched up, “uh, he’s um, how old is he” Frank asks, you turn to face him “he’s 4” you smile softly, bending down to see the wound on his side as u start cleaning it, frank smiles, something you don’t see very often but god he looks so handsome when he douse, “why didn’t you tell me?” Frank asks lookin down at his hands something obviously bothering him

, “I didn’t think to, you don’t come by during exactly “normal” hours” you say standing up putting the used cleaning supplies in the trash, frank says nothing and looks at the floor obviously thinking about something, he starts moving his hands around a bit which is only something he douse when scared or nervous, you look at him “Frank, what’s wrong” you ask standing in front of him “nothing” he replies coldly, obviously not telling the truth again, you let out a sigh, moving down to be face to face with him, “Frankie, please be honest with me I can something’s bothering you, I know you don’t like to talk about stuff but please talk to me, I wanna help” you grab both of his hands and he looks up at you for a good second before he lets out a sighs and looks down a little not making eye contact with you anymore, “just man, I, um, not only I’m I just putting you in danger being here I’m putting that little boy in danger, and man I don’t wanna do that, I don’t wanna put people I love in danger again, innocent people man, not-, just not again.” He says his voice cracking at the end a tears forming in his eyes, you’d never seen Frank be this open with you or emotional at that, you feel bad for him, “hey, Frankie I’m not in danger, Milo’s not in danger, where all safe, we have you to protect us, where all safe nothing bad is gonna happen to us I promise you, everything is gonna be alright Frankie” you say in a comforting voice, giving franks hand a reassuring squeeze, Frank pushes you hands away “yeah how you know that?! What if I can’t protect you and I- I fail like I did with” he says raising his voice but becoming more quite near the end his voice breaking before finishing his sentence saying “Maria” under his breath, “listen you had no control that day with what happened to Maria and the kids, you didn’t fail you tried your best, even if your not here to protect me and Milo I can damn well defend myself, nothings gonna happen, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere nor is Milo” you reply trying to comfort him, you where never good at comforting people, so this was a challenge for sure but you where trying your best.

His breathing starts to pick up and he stands up abruptly and walks around the kitchen before throwing the beer bottle in his hand and leaning against the wall, you jump at the sound of the glass breaking, you see tears running down franks face, “I- I don’t wanna lose you- fuck, nothing I do is ever good enough” he says as he sinks down to the floor tears now streaming down his face, your heart breaks of the almost never emotional guy you loved now breaking down on your kitchen floor, you walks over and get on the ground with him and bring him in for a hug he crys in your arms, “Frankie, everything you do is good enough don’t ever talk like that, your not gonna lose me ever, I promise” you reply trying your best to comfort him he still grabs onto you tightly as if he where to let go you’d slip away he grabs at the back of your shirt crying on your shoulder, you slowly rubb his back, giving him the once in awhile kiss on the forehead, after about 15 minutes his crying has slowed down, “hey you can have some old clothes upstairs, you can sleep here tonight” you say and he moves to get up and you both walk upstairs, as he’s changing you tuck Milo in but he’s sleepy so he falls right to sleep

you walk out of Milo’s room and into yours, he gos to leave the room “where you going” you ask confused, he looks back at you confused “uhh to the couch” he points down to the couch, you look down a little “I was wondering if you wanna sleep in my bed tonight, we can cuddle or something i don’t know sorry” you reply, he smirks a bit and nods “sure why not” you both get into bed and you lay your head on his chest, “I’m sorry for earlier I was being stupid” Frank says as he draws shapes on you back, “don’t apologize your ok, I’m glad you opened up to me tho” you smile, he kisses your forehead,

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A/n: I got super tired near the end I’m so sorry, I’ll right some kinda smut to make up for this sadness, side note this is my first angst or anything sad ish thing I’m sorry if it’s horrible idk, if you have any tips PLS share