#like REALLY broke it. like below the quick

[user777h]

pairing: seonghwa x fem(reader)

rating: 18+

genre: smut (hardcore duh)

Word count:i will never ever count but just know its a lottttttttt

summary: y/n gets it on with sexy stallion seonghwa (that sibilance tho)

warnings: MDNI-All characters in my stories are 18+,a lot of my work contains taboo?Genres so if your triggered by that please don't read,probably contains cursing

As she entered the room, her pulse quickened. She felt nervous, but alive with excitement. Seonghwa, as he had introduced himself to her earlier, greeted her with a kiss that suddenly evolved into a passionate embrace as their tongues danced together. His soft, warm lips felt strange, but wonderful. Her husband was a great kisser but this was different. Seonghwa was confident and forceful, with a controlled touch that promised highly developed skills as a lover.

He broke off their kiss and looked at her.

"I am so glad you came."

She looked around the huge, luxurious suite and focused on the bottle of pinot noir on the table, open with two glasses.

"How did you know I would?"

"I could see it in your eyes."

She blushed. Despite her confidence in her ability to control her emotions and her body language, her eyes had given her away. She started to protest, but realized how that would sound. She was the one who had shown up at his suite, key card in hand and her panties soaked with anticipation.

Seonghwa kissed her again, more gently. She felt a twinge of emotional conflict, thinking about her love for her husband, her marriage, and the guilt of infidelity. She remembered her husband's encouragement and years of sincere requests that she give both of them this gift of her pleasure. She only had to give herself permission. As she melted in seonghwas arms, she finally granted herself that freedom - the freedom to enjoy this strong, handsome male--the freedom to satisfy a craving her husband could no longer quench.

Seonghwa parted from her lips and looked into her willing eyes.

"Turn around and pull down your tights and panties."

"What the fuck?" would have been her normal reaction. Instead of resisting, she felt the power of his voice and obeyed, charged with new, electric feelings of giving up the control she had always maintained over every aspect of her life.

She turned, lifted her black dress, and reached into the waistband of her black opaque tights and her black bikini panties. She eased them down below her knees.

"Bend over and put your hands on the arm of the chair in front of you."

Feeling strangely under his control, she shuffled the few feet to the chair, her legs bound close together by the tights bunched a few inches above her high-heeled black suede booties.

As she bent over to place her hands on the chair, she noticed that her face and body were reflected in the mirrored bedroom door slightly ajar in front of her. Seeing her reflection in this exposed position only served to accelerate the butterflies dancing in her stomach, down through her loins to her weakened knees. She hoped that he would just take her there, claiming her extramarital virginity in one quick motion. The erotic tension was palpable as she waited exposed and vulnerable, her mind racing. She felt a drop of the nectar of her arousal run down the inside of her thigh.

After staying still and silent, exposed in this position for what seemed like a lifetime, she felt Seonghwa's hand lift the hem of her dress, folding it over onto her back. His hand then parted her thighs and reached under her, gently caressing the exposed lips of her pussy, slick with her juices.

"Nice. I was hoping you would be smoothly shaved. You really are a naughty one."

She gasped slightly. "I had it waxed as a treat for my husband. We are supposed to go away for a special weekend next week for our anniversary."

He increased the pressure of his slow and still gentle strokes.

"Lovely. Why did you come to my room?"

"Because, uh... you told me to come."

"Do you always do as you're told?"

He parted her lips with his fingers, softly stroking the inside of her lips as her juices coated his hand. She was now panting, her words breathless as she answered.

"No, I am uuh, always in charge. I am in charge of my business, I am in charge of my social life, and I am in charge of my marriage."

She let out a guttural moan as he lengthened his strokes, reaching further toward her front and passing gently over her now swollen clit.

He said, softly, "I never go after married women, but I had to approach you. You are too beautiful and too sexy to be stuck with a husband who is boring in bed and can't keep you satisfied."

"My husband is a great person, a wonderful lover, and definitely not boring in bed. I love him very much. "

"Then why are you are bent over in front of a stranger, letting him stroke your married pussy?"

"He, uhhh, knows..."

"What do you mean, he knows?"

His questions would normally have been distracting, but confessing to him combined with his skilled, rhythmic stroking of her only heightened her arousal. "H-he knows I am with you."

"You are a naughty girl. So, you have played this game before?"

She gasped as he slipped his thumb into her, pressing against her front wall. His fingers rubbed her clit. He dragged his thumb over her perfect spot with each stroke. She shook with pleasure and the realization that this man knew his way around.

"No, this is the first time I have done anything like this since we started dating."

"Lucky me. Why now?"

She did not respond but continued to writhe on his invading thumb.

"Answer me."

"It's complicated."

Seonghwa pulled his hand from her pussy. She followed it with her upturned ass, trying unsuccessfully to maintain the friction.

"Please don't stop!" she begged, her voice hoarse with desire.

"Answer me when I ask you a question."

"My husband is a wonderful lover, but he is sexually submissive. This is so embarrassing."

He reentered her push with his thumb and started to rub her clit with his fingers.

She moved against his hand, moaning, "thank you."

"Tell me everything."

"He tries to take control and be dominant to indulge me, but I just can't feel it. All I can do is picture him dressed in panties, stockings, a dress, and heels, cuter than mine. Not only is he submissive, but he is also likes to dress in women's clothing. He adores me, and I love him and enjoy dominating him sexually, but he just can't satisfy my other need no matter how hard he tries. I indulge his feminine side, but can't really shift gears and think of him as a real man who can take me and be in control. I think of him more as a girlfriend. I know he would rather be dressed as a girl, feminine and frilly, and I just can't get around it. He would do anything for my pleasure. He has always encouraged me to satisfy my need with other men, but I have always felt too guilty about violating my wedding vows and too sure that I would never be able to find someone who was not an asshole or a bad person. I realize it might not look like it right now, but I have always been very picky and kind of a sexual snob"

She began to thrust backward against his hand.

"What do you need?"

She did not answer immediately.

Seonghwa reached under her and pinched her clit firmly between his fingers, causing her to squeal.

"Tell me!"

She cried out, "I need to be taken by a real man. I need to give up control and submit to him in all the ways I can't with my husband."

Seonghwa resumed fucking her with his thumb and furiously stroking her clit. She shook with renewed pleasure and began riding his hand.

"I can give you what you need."

"I know," she moaned loudly as she came violently on his hand, her juices soaking his hand with each spasm.

Finally, she collapsed over the chair as the contractions softened, leaving her like a puppet on his fingers, which were still moving slowly deep inside of her. She lingered, trying to recover from the explosive release of the erotic tension that had been building in her since he handed her his room key in the bar.

She did not feel guilt or regret. She felt alive, and deliciously naughty. She knew immediately that she craved more of this man--much more.

He slowly slid his fingers out of her, giving her upturned ass a squeeze on the way out.

"Stand and walk into the bedroom."

She stood and bent to take her boots off. His hand stopped her.

"I did not tell you to take off your boots. Walk to the bedroom."

Embarrassed, she shuffled to the bedroom, the tights around her ankles hobbling her. Once there she hesitated, wondering what next.

"Sit on the bed and undress me." He had followed her in.

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. She unbuttoned his custom-made dress shirt, revealing a clean, bright white t-shirt underneath. After laying his shirt across the bench at the foot of the bed, she pulled the t-shirt up and over his head, revealing his taut torso and chest, lightly dusted with salt and pepper hair, a body of refined masculinity. Excited, she began to unbuckle his belt.

"Take off my shoes first."

She bent down and untied each of his shoes and slipped them off. She then returned to finish unbuckling his belt. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down to reveal crisp white cotton boxers. Having learned that he was an orderly man with refined taste in clothing, she pulled his pants down as he stepped out of them and laid them across the bench.

"May I take off your boxers?"

He nodded. She pulled them down, her eyes widening as she freed the most gorgeous cock she had ever seen. It was remarkably thick and substantial, not grotesquely long but remarkably thick. Mostly erect, it had a large head rimmed by a pronounced soft ridge, giving way to a girthy shaft, beautifully marbled with veins under stretched skin. Lust surging in her, she reached out to touch it.

"Stop! I did not give you permission to touch."

"May I touch it?" she responded, looking up at him.

"May you touch what?"

"May I touch your beautiful cock?"

He nodded. She reached out with both of her hands and softly took the sculpted wonder, now the sole focus of her lustful cravings. It felt heavy in her hands as it began to grow harder in response. She held the base with one hand and gently slid her other hand around his shaft. She slid it up toward the crown, feeling the ridge surrounding it softly pull against the skin of her palm and fingers.

Her husband undoubtedly was nicely equipped but this was a remarkable model of masculinity. She loved taking her husband into her mouth to make him hard enough to pleasure her, but, even when he had previously been allowed to have a male orgasm, she very rarely sucked him to completion, preferring to preserve his erection for her riding pleasure.

This, however, was a real man's cock, never confined in satiny panties, never shrunken by those pretty panties and feminine desires, and never restrained from expressing the ecstasy of male release or giving pleasure in return.

She leaned forward, eager to taste it and have it fill her warm soft mouth, but caught herself and looked up at him again with a smile.

"May I suck your beautiful cock?"

He again nodded his assent. Holding the base with both hands, she leaned forward and took the tip into her mouth. Through the haze of her desire, she noticed that she had to open wider to receive him and that she had to be careful to cover her teeth with her lips as they stretched around the head. She looked up and playfully squeezed the tip out from between her lips, letting it bounce against her chin. She reached out and lifted it with her tongue and took it between her beautiful lips again; this time keeping it in the warmth of her mouth.

She slowly took more of his cock in her mouth, pulling back slightly with each bit of progress and swirling her warm, wet tongue around the sensitive head, before pushing her mouth further down his length. He grew harder in response, moaning with pleasure.

She stopped, her mouth filled with cock to the limits of her ability. She tried to further relax and open her throat to take more of him, and provide pleasure worthy of this magnificent organ. Backing out and pushing back down with increasing frequency, she began to progress further down his viewed shaft with each downward stroke. His firm crown filled the back of her throat, causing her to gag, but she was able to control the spasms to the point where they only served to further stimulate him.

"Fuck that feels good!"

His words encouraged her. Just as she finally approached the absolute limits of her mouth and throat, he gently pushed her off.

"Turn around and climb on the bed."

As her mouth slid off his cock, she could not resist wrapping her lips around his tip and sucking softly, causing an audible pop as his cock pulled free. An audible groan of pleasure rewarded her efforts.

She obediently turned and crawled up on the bed, laying her head and chest down on the sheets and presenting her ass and eager pussy.

[feroluce]

And with that, we've finally hit 40 fics in the henghill tag!!

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕*

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Dom!Chan, Brat!Reader, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, CreamPie, Degrading, Mentions Of multiple rounds, Studio Sex, P in V, Sir Used, Slightly proofread.

You can find this beautiful request (here)

-🖤

You had been testing Chans patience all day today, but what broke the straw was you getting a little too handsy with Changbin. You were sitting in the studio with Chan when Changbin had come into grab something. Somehow you ended up feeling his muscles making him all blushy. When Changbin left for the gym Chan shot you a death glare. He was always so patient, way more than he should be honestly. Today though? He had enough.

He got up locking the door, he hovered over you looking down at you. You stared at the ground not wanting to meet his gaze. That gaze, you knew damn well he was done with your bullshit. He sighed loudly before sitting beside you. Yanking you over his lap making you yelp at the suddenness. He laid your body over his lap ass pushed up. He pulled your shorts down with your underwear as you squirmed at his touch.

“Don’t move.” He said in a low voice. “You know the rules, count and do not look away.” He said staring daggers down at you.

You nod only for him to let a quick slap to your ass. “Words.” He said with a growl.

“Yes- sir, I’m sorry sir” you said voice trailing off a bit at the end.

“And what happens if you don’t keep eyes on me or don’t count?” He said rubbing his hand over the area he had slapped.

“Starts over” you all but whimper out looking at him with big doe eyes.

“Good girl” he said softly before letting another slap hit your ass. “Now start counting”

“1” the first (third) slap hard, his hand soothing it a bit before another smack.

“2” you groaned out eyes staring deep into each others gaze.

A few minutes had passed, with a whimper you kept going. “8.” Tears pricked at your face as you blinked the tears away.

“You gonna learn your lesson next time hm? Or are you gonna keep testing my patience.” He said another spank hitting your ass this time harder. The area was red, sensitive and getting sore. He normally did it on both sides but this was a sort of punishment he did when you were really bad.

“M’sorry sir, I didn’t-“ a louder yelp left your lips as another smack connected. “N-nine” you stuttered out.

“You didn’t what? Be a brat all day and then feel up my friend’s arms like a dirty little whore? You didn’t mean to do all that?” His voice was low but also a mocking tone. Another hard smack came down to your ass connecting with the sensitive spot once more.

“10!” You basically screamed. This slap the last one, was hard. Full of all the anger you had made him feel through the day. It stung, it hurt, it sure was gonna bruise. He ran his fingers over your ass looking down at your tear stained face. He spread your legs slightly running his fingers down your folds slowly. The sensation made your body jump, Not expecting it.

“You took your punishment so well, I’m proud” he said voice a bit softer than it had been. The slight pain dying down now you could feel how wet you were. He ran his fingers across your clit before pulling them away. You wanted to whine out but you knew it was a bad idea. So you bit your cheek trying to be good for him.

“Up” he said patting your ass, and you did so. You stared at him while he unbuckled his pants pulling everything down letting his cock slap back against him. He was rock hard, pre cum dripping from his tip. “Over the couch now.” He demanded.

You obeyed taking position, as soon as he made his way behind you he was already pushing into you. He gave you no time. No time to adjust and definitely no time to think. He was pounding into you mercilessly, balls slapping against your skin as he bottomed out. A string of curse words and grunts left his mouth as you moaned below him.

He gripped your hips harshly as his nails dug into the sensitive soft skin. You could feel his cock so deep into you, he was twitching already. He slapped your ass this time on the other cheek before bringing his hands up to wrap around your neck. “Tell me how much of a slut you are, tell me how you were probably bad cause you’re a needy whore and just want my attention. He growled.

“M’need- always need your attention. Always want all of you” he groaned. You could feel your legs becoming jelly. Your cunt squeeze around him. “G’onna cum!” You moaned out spit dripping down your chin.

“Did I say you could? You think you’ve deserve to cum?” He said as he took a chunk of your hair pulling it harshly. Your head came back where he could whisper into your ear. “Think I should let you?” He said almost a chuckle.

“Please sir I’m sorry- I- I’ll behave just- aah” you moaned out. Chan grinned as he pulled out before quickly flipping you over.

“You’re gonna keep eye contact with me until I cum got it? Then maybe I’ll let you cum” he said pushing himself back into you. His pace was fast he was hitting every spot inside you. Your body shook under him, in return making him laugh. “So pathetic” he said as his hand found its way to your clit. He rubbed small circles as he drilled into your eyes never leaving one another’s.

“Sir! Mm fuck- so good- only you. Only you make me feel so good.” You babbled out. You were seeing stars and so was Chan. His high washing over him faster than he thought it would. His cock pumped deep into you as he groaned. Hot liquid filling you to the brim as his movements start to stutter.

“Shit princess” he said he leaned down leaving sloppy kisses to you as he rubbed you clit. “Cum for me princess, I wanna watch you come undone from me” he groaned out. It didn’t take long for you to let go. Gushing all over his long cock as you arched your back.

“Thank you sir” you said panting out. “M’sorry for being bad” you said softly looking up at him.

“I know baby” he coo’d rubbing your head as he came down from his high. A few moments had passed before either of you said anything else, But you were the first one to break the silence.

“Chan” you said softly. “Chan! The recording sound was on! You recorded this whole-“ your eyes went wide looking at him. He couldn’t help but laugh, he just shrugged “maybe I’ll put it in a song” he said smiling at you as you rolled your eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow “attitude back already?” He teased making you pout “no..” you said softly “don’t worry baby I’m not done with this punishment yet, I think I got 2 more rounds in me” he said before kissing you as he wrapped his arms around you. Those 2 rounds? Yeah, turned into 1 more at the studio and 2 more at your house.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat

[k9wa]

⟁ PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

⚠︎ mechanic!reader (but it isn’t really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (ma’am used once at the end) wc 1k.

“your bounty has been completed!”

boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.

“how would you like to land?”

the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.

“…good question.”

the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. he’d never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete from— give or take— six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasn’t the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasn’t exactly in the cards of his itinerary.

boothill’s eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted it’d do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless. 

he eventually came up with an idea— a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound on…wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet. 

super simple, super easy. lightwork.

and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.

“c’mon now boothill,” he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. “ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ repositionin’.”

he kept falling, getting closer, 

closer…

closer…

almost there…

boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when something— or rather, someone— grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked ‘muddle—!’ before he could test the success rate of his plan.

the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent saviours—

of course.

boothill’s sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.

“well fudge me!” he’d slap his knee if the position allowed. “look who it is— ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.

“swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“you’re lucky,” you half scoff. “i’ve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.”

boothill’s hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled. 

“ain’t that the fudgin’ truth,” he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. “reckon i’d be flatter than a darn hotcake if it weren’t for yer timely intervention!” 

his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your hand— instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.

“you got somewhere to be or somethin’?”

you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.

“you bet i do— somewhere that ain’t swarmin’ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!”

it was a fair point— a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.

running with him wasn’t so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often. 

you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way. 

“say, remind me to get’cha a drink later,” boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. “as a thanks for all them times y’saved my sorry behind.”

boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.

“you’re gonna have quite the tab going.” you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothill’s eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.

“tell ya what,” his hand gave yours a squeeze. “i know a place. it ain’t too far from here, won’t have to worry about no one botherin’ us,” it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. “i start workin’ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck we’re both winnin’ ain’t we?” 

you hummed at that. it didn’t sound so bad.

“alright,” you nodded. “but let’s focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.”

it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.

“you weren’t pullin’ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?” boothill fell into a natural step behind you.

“consider this added to your tab.”

“yes ma’am!”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[pyrodolls]

headcannons for cuddling with bayani?

CUDDLING HCS (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X READER)

WARNINGS: sfw, kinda fluff, slight angst, worshipper yandere, kinda insecure bayani as usual, established relationship, lowercase intended, gender neutral reader, i do not condone yanderes

A/N: hey y'all... happy 2025. it feels so weird to say that. i posted my first fic on here a little over a year ago soooo thanks for sticking around with me for so long. i think my writing is still improving and i'm still not very satisfied with a lot of my work, but i really appreciate every single like and reblog i get. thank you guys! (p.s i've actually been writing x reader fanfics since i was 8 years old. you'll never find my old wattpad accounts...) btw i know the banner below is actually from some random manga i've never heard of BUT i was scrolling thru pinterest and saw him and i was like "yeah thats bayani."

BAYANI is utterly clueless on the topic of physical affection. he's completely inexperienced when it comes to anything romantic in general. let's say you suddenly curled up to him while you two watched a movie. he froze and didn't know what to do. his anxieties drove him mad enough to distract him from the movie. should he put his arm around you? where do his legs go? should he lay his head against yours? your comfort is his top priority, so he'd gleefully mold himself into whatever position makes you happy without any regard for his own enjoyment. but should he directly ask you what position you favor? would it paint him as stupid to not already know of your preferred cuddling positions? his worst nightmare is looking like a fool before your eyes.

but as his overthinking worsened, you simply wondered why he froze and took his stillness as a sign that he was uncomfortable. you scooted away from him, and he frowned. did he do something wrong? oh crap, he really did embarrass himself in front of you. maybe he should speak up about it and ask why. if you broke up with him because of it, at least he'd know why.

"did i make you uncomfortable?" he muttered, quiet enough for you to hear but not loud enough to be clear.

"what? no, i moved away because i thought you were uncomfortable. i'm sorry that i did that, i probably should've warned you first..."

silence followed your words, with nothing but the sounds of the television and bayani's quick, uneasy breathing.

after choosing his words carefully in his head, he stammered. "well, i- uh... liked it. i just... didn't know what to do."

"oh, thank goodness. i thought i did something wrong," you laughed. "okay, here's what you do..."

you carefully moved closer to him, resting your body against his and laying your head on his shoulder. then, you moved his arm to wrap around your shoulder and gently pushed his head to the top of yours.

"there we go. see? just like this."

with his chin on top of your head, he directly felt the vibrations of your giggles overwhelming his senses and distracting him from the erratic beating of his heart. it always made him giddy to spend time with you, but being gently directed on how to please you gave him a new, fuzzy sensation in his body that he silently hoped would never end.

his existence is for your happiness. he is nothing but a toy for your enjoyment and amusement. your desires and needs are to be met at your command with no question from him. without you, he has no purpose-- nobody integral to serve. it may seem like a miniscule moment to you. a laughable misunderstanding, even. but to him, he is ashamed of himself for not immediately synchronizing with your needs. he'll remember that moment and take note of it for next time-- it'll haunt him every time he tries something new with you. even if you reassured him that you don't mind, his insecure nature will drive him to absorb every individual second of that memory and dissect it far more seriously than you can imagine. it’ll motivate him to be a better boyfriend for you.

[pumpyriah]

Please help an unemployed brown mixed disabled trans person sustain their family + help their parents leave venezuela

Hello tumblr dot com users! I'm Ren, a trans and disabled venezuelan trying to get back into art. And as of the 1st of nov 2024 I'm officially unemployed and really, really broke 🥲

If you want a more extended version of our situation you can reffer to my last post thread from months ago, I decided to finally create this one as an updated version.

Summarizing and updating extremely quickly what has happened this last time: The humanitarian Parole is no longer available, The Darien has become way more dangerous and inaccesible to cross and the Panama goverment is going to get toughter, considering this is a mostly usamerican site I hope I don't have to mention what happened this month over there, and obviously there's certainty shit isn't going to get any better from this point onwards. Things have changed so much that my mother started considering emigrating to Spain.

As some of the people close to me know, I really dislike being in the necessity of e-begging without at least offering something in return to people helping me because I don't feel ok doing so otherwise. That's why in this post I have several avenues to help me depending on what anyone might preffer.

Our current plan is to keep saving as much as we can while we wait and hope for a relative of my father to present a Family Reunification TPS while there is still chance, if neither of those don't work or something happens, we'll help either him or my mother go to Spain instead. We are definitively not giving up, but that doesn't mean things didn't get harder.

❗Some of the most urgent needs we're currently trying to cover:

7-12$ Bug poison. We have an extreme problem of cockroach infestation

20-25$ Rispheridona resupply

10-15$ Glasses reparation

6-10$ Shower reparation

+30$ Mother's car revision

+20$ By-Weekly groceries

+15$ General Medicines

You can make as little as a 1 USD donation by simply buying a high quality piece I've done recently!

I'm also currently still offering extremely cheap comms for little chibi doodles like the ones in the pics below!!

Either way. If you can't of don't wish to donate or commission. Please know that just by sharing this around as much as possible is enough to help. Thank you <3

ppal

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[saturnscafe]

͙˚ ༘✶Le Pew | Skunk Hybrid (GN Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: did I write this after remembering Pepe Le pew? Yes. Yes I did. 😂 Hence the tittle. I wrote this in a daze so bear with me if there’s any mistakes lol.

Skunk hybrid hating humans because they always run away from him. He doesn’t understand why, I mean he does. However he doesn’t understand why they wouldn’t give him a chance. So when he was injured and you found him he was shocked that you didn’t care.

He just stared at you trying to figure out when you’d run, or when you’d say something about his smell. When you patched him up just smiling at him he was entranced with you. Blurting out quick and loudly “Will you be my mate” he didn’t even know where that came from. Neither did you but you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t handsome.

That sleek black hair with a small stripe of white. The small scar that went up the side of his cheek, and not to mention how tall he was.

“How about a date first?” You said smiling at him and he thought he could melt right then. He scattered trying to plan the best date for you. He was always a super confident man but you had him feeling like a middle schooler getting ready for his first date. You suggested just a relaxing day at your place, just hanging out and getting to know each other one on one.

When he came knocking on your door the smell of strong cologne washed over you. It was like he bathed himself in it. He was scared you’d change your mind if he smelled. So he drowned himself in a whole bottle of the stuff. You couldn’t help but laugh it just came tumbling out. “Did you use the whole bottle?” You teased. His ears folding down to his head like he did something wrong. “Most humans..” he started to say before you cut him off. “I grew up around skunks, I don’t mind the smell. Quite frankly I don’t even smell it anymore.

His eyes lit up, asking you so many questions as to why. After telling him your father was a vet helping any animal in need. You told him about how he’d made it a mission to help any hybrid that wasn’t treated well. Always opening his home to skunks, snakes, spiders and many more that didn’t meet the “cute” standard.

You both chatted all night, about everything and anything. He’d open up about how he honestly hated humans because how they treated him like the plague. You reassured him that, that wasn’t the case with you. That you knew many people who just loved his kind. The night turned into you both curled on the couch at 1am watching movies.

He felt really comfortable with you, his confidence oozing back. His hand found its way under your chin pulling you into a sweet longing kiss. Your eyes fluttered close taking in how gentle he was. The kiss turned into hands pulling at each other’s clothes. Lips kissing at any part of skin they could find. When he slipped into you it his head fell backwards taking in the feeling of your warm walls. The smell of the cologne finally had faded away, and you could smell his natural musky sent. His smell was different though almost like it was a sort of pheromone. It was driving you crazy.

His cock hit the back of your walls, nails digging into one another as trails of curses left both of you. His eyes found yours making his hips stutter he felt like he was in love. He leaned down kissing you passionately as both of you reached your climaxes hot ropes of cum spirting into you. His arms wrapped around you holding you close as he possibly could. Like you’d float away if he didn’t. He broke the waves of breaths “so does this mean you’ll be my mate?” He said his fluffy tail slowly moving behind him. “I’d be honored” you replied.

People couldn’t grasp why you’d choose to be with a skunk hybrid. They didn’t see him like you did which was honestly their loss. With your love and support he became even more confident. Talking to other humans and finding people who liked him for him. Even meeting your father who absolutely adored him.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Polaroid perfect

Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader 🔞

Rick learns the truth about his daughter's relationahip in a very unpleasant way.

A quick in and out, that was all Rick and Daryl had planned for the day.

Rick sat crouched in an abandoned hallway, planning their strategy of going through the section of houses they had selected.

"You brought the list, right?" Rick asked Daryl who was busying himself with the initial walker check.

"S'in ma bag." The archer's voice sounded as he stepped back after declaring the house safe. " ya know, like e'rythin' else cuz ya refused ta bring yers."

Rick only responded with a mumbled repeat of Daryl's words and reached over to grab the dull green canvas bag that sat against the dust covered side table.

He had to take another folded up bag out that laid on top of their supplies. 'Really? We've got bags in the car..' Rick shook his head to himself and fished for the supply lists people had given them, pulling the papers out and scattering them over the floor as a corner caught on the bag's drawstring.

"The hell?"

Rick's voice of surprise had Daryl turn and look his way, freezing the second his eyes landed on the items scattered on the wooden floor.

Both men were silent as they stares from one photo to the next.

A simple photo of you smiling, with Daryl kissing your cheek.

"Oh, look! It has a tiny mirror thingie! Can we try to take a photo together, please?" With an eye roll and a huffed laugh Daryl complied and sat down next to you for a photo. "Dunno why yer willin' ta waste film on a guy like me." He mumbled against your skin as you raised the camera to position it right.

Just as you pressed the button to snap the photo, Daryl pressed his lips to your cheek.

Next to it a less innocent one, of your chest. Rick easily recognized it with how your hair was visible and the scar on your shoulder he tended to when it was a fresh wound. Daryl's tattooed hand was covering one of them, a gauze patch peeking up from underneath his hand.

"Tha' wasn't so bad now was it?" Daryl kissed your cheek as he readied a gauze to place over the freshly cut lines in your skin. You winced as you moved, but shook your head. "It was okay I guess.."

After Daryl had applied the gauze you slumped down on your back, arms crossed around your chest. It was a sight to see, according to Daryl, who had placed his hand over your gauze covered skin and snapped a photo.

As Rick scanned the images one by one, Daryl stood frozen with his eyes on just one of the frames.

Your lower half, marked in bruises and fresh bitemarks. Legs spread around scarred hips and a cock buried to the hilt inside of you. On your thigh a small fresh cut heart still bled.

Sighs and pants filled the air in the small, dusty room you were holed up. "Shit, yer gonna be the end'a me one day.." Daryl's gruff voice was barely above a whisper, thrusting into you and staring at where you teo connected. It looked like he was in a trance, until your voice pulled him back. "Why don't you take a pic? For when you're on the road."

There were more, some laying faced down but it was clear the whole collection had the same theme.

"Daryl.." Rick didn't bring his eyes up to meet the hunter. Instead they were focused on the most explicit photo that was in his view. He had no interest in seeing what Daryl packed below the belt. And even less in seeing it inside of his daughter.

A hand slammed down on the printed paper, a loud smack sounded through the hallway.

"You're sleeping with my daughter?" In his eyes a dark stare, his hand still spread over a photo. Daryl knew exactly what photo.

Daryl nodded his head. "..yeah. She asked me. Asked 'er ta keep quiet, dun wanted folk talkin' bout shit tha had nothin' ta do with 'em." Daryl paced the two half steps between the walls of the hallway, chewing his thumb til he broke the skin.

With a sigh Rick picked up the photo his palm rested on.

"This?" His palm covered the worst of the image, his other hand pointed at the bleeding heart. "And m'not even going to mention the obvious, is in no way acceptable."

Daryl struggled to find his footing, nervously staring anywhere but at his brother who looked dead at him.

"I swear, I.." He stumbled over his words, unsure which ones would anger Rick the least. "She was fine with it. Ne'er did anythin' she didn' want."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. The only sound heard was the shuffling of pictures being gathered and stacked.

"We're going to drop this and finish this run." Rick stuffed the photos back all the way at the bottom of the bag.

"You, me and her. Tonight over dinner." With the bag on his hand he walked over to Daryl and shoved it against his chest. "First we do what we came here for."

And the run went well. They found the needed items, along with some requested things as well. Their haul was better than expected, but the two men still shared no words besides the needed ones for the job.

The drive back to the community was silent and getting all the items to their destinations was done in seperate ways.

There was no way the two men could look each other in the eyes right now. Rick went home and hoped to not find you until dinner, too afraid he might snap, unable to hold back all that he was feeling at this moment. His mind was reeling the second he sat down, making him jump up from the chair and pace around.

Dinner. He was going to focus on dinner.

With that in mind he set off to the pantry, going through all the recipes he knew, deciding on a meal with the ingredients he found.

A couple of houses down, Daryl needed a nap. He laid down on his couch but sleep wouldn't take him, his mind wandering off to all possible bad outcomes of tonight's dinner. He as well couldn't lay still, tossing and turning until he sat back up in frustration and hauled himself up the stairs and into the shower. He focused on cleaning himself up, scrubbing off the thoughts of a ruined friendship and rinsing away the fear of banishment.

Rick stood in the kitchen, thanking whoever listened for the fact that his family was busy and not available to question his clearly frazzled mind as he busied himself chopping down the greens he picked and cutting the few potatoes he was given in thin slices.

With care Daryl sifted through his clothes, trying to find any that didn't scream 'dirty redneck' at him from where they sat in the drawers. He dug past checkered flanels with torn sleeves, black buttown downsthat were once nice clothing items but now were nothing more than once expensive fabrics with holes in them.

Rick sighed as the warm water his his skin as he cleaned the cutting board. Pans with the greens and potatoes sat ready on the stovetop, and the meat sat prepped in the fridge. He was content with his work, looking around the kitchen as he dried the used items and placed them back in their respective cabinets.

Daryl's hands found plastic at the back of the drawer, pulling at it to reveal the bag Carol had gifted him, an outfit she brought back from a run with the Kingdom.

He stared at the thick, fancy patterned fabric. Shining threaded flowing patterns over a dull black fabric. The sleeves were long, with a small button and clasp to keep them rolled up. Along with the nice button up were sleek black pants that fit him perfectly.

Back in the kitchen Rick stood at the stove, finally having changed out of his gear and into home clothes. Now that he had a full kitchen and ingredients available again he enjoyed cooking, and even though Michonne and Carl weren't joining tonight he still put effort into it.

He had just put the meat in the pan when you came home, quickly questioning him about the food.

"Just go change and get back, dinner's almost ready." You watched your dad wavee his spatula in the direction of the stairs and for a second you wondered if he had found someone's stash and Daryl had comvinced him to smoke some as well before you did as he asked and went to change out of your dirty work clothes.

Before he left Daryl gave himself one last look in the large mirror that hung by the front door. He looked nice, he heard Carol's voice in his head as he looked ar how the few strands of shorter hair fell around his face while the rest was held together in a low ponytail.

By the time you came back downstairs your dad had set the table and was moving pans onto their coasters.

Wait.

Why was the table set for three? No one else was home for dinner tonight.

Rounding the corner the kitchen came into view and your stomach fluttered but you were unsure about what caused it.

Was it the butterflies that came with Daryl standing in your kitchen, seemingly filling three glasses with water in what looked like clean, fancy clothes? Or was it the anxiety moths that made thoughts of why he was here dressed up nicely in the first place?

"Looks good, dad." You mused as you walked past him to the sink.

"Let me take one." Next to Daryl you took one glass and the full pitcher, mouthing a subtle 'what the fuck?' at him, getting an eyeroll and a nod towards Rick.

"No need to fake the niceness, hon. I saw your little private photo collection."

You felt the glare at the back of your head and your body froze, hands stuck on the glasswares, unmoving.

Daryl murmured a soft apology before he moved to set the glasses on the table, coming back to take your items as well.

"C'mon, let's sit down 'n eat." With careful hands he maneuvered you to your seat at the table, where you had not dared to look anywhere outside of the scratched white of the plate in front of you.

The sound of spoons hitting pans and cutlery scraping plates all muddled as the panic rung in your ears.

You had kept part of your life secret with the utmost care, never a single moment of worry yet and nkw here the two most important men in your life sat, and ate in peace.

"Sweetheart, you should eat." Your father reached a hand across the table to take yours in comfort.

How were they so calm under all of this?

"I won't scream, or yell. I just need you to eat." With his hand withdrawn from yours he tilted the pan of potatoes for you to scoop some onto your plate.

The atmosphere at the table slowly settled as you all ate, but the more empty your plates became, the closer the dreaded topic came.

With pans and plates empty, Rick's voice cleared the awkward silence.

"So, how long?" He glanced between you and Daryl, seeing who'd answer first.

"After the prison fell." At Daryl's quick response you perked up. You listened how he recollected the events of your time spent separated between the fall of the prison and reuniting after that unfortunate meeting with the Claimers.

"Oooh look at this! Do you need some help, pretty lady?" The door to the storage unit you hoped up in got toen open to reveal a group of men, old and clearly mad in their doings.

"Claimed."

A voice you recognised sounded from the back of the group.

Daryl.

He went on to share how laying claim on you kept the men away from you and how he thought after reuniting it'd be done and over, but the oposite proved itself fairly quick.

"You know you didn't have to do all that, right? I mean, I know it was all to keep up the act, but I also know you don't like getting close like that." You and Daryl walked along the tree line, carefully eyeing a boar in the distance. "Hmhm, s'alright. Was nice, really." He dropped the subject immediately after and decided to focus on teaching you to hunt properly.

With focus and precision you took the shot, hitting the animal and joining Daryl to go see. "Great shot."

Upon seeng the animal lay lifeless on the forest floor you jumped into Daryl's arms with glee, quickly pulling back upon realizing your mistake.

Daryl's mind raced those few seconds, screaming at himself to make it happen now or never and his body moved out of its own.

His hands had remained on your hips and pulled you back in, ever so carefully nuzzling your cheek and making his way to press his lips against yours.

It was clear in Daryl's wording he wasn't having fun sharing the stories, but the glances he couldn't keep from happening told Rick more than Daryl's words.

"Ya gotta know, I care fer 'er. Really do." There were no truer words, nothing he could make it more clear he never had any ill intentions with you.

So now Rick stared at you, a look in his eyes that told you he was waiting for you to speak.

His look did nothing but frustrate you. "Really? You really think I'd sleep with just anybody just because the world went to shit?" Daryl could do nothing but smile behind his glass of water as you glared at your father. It was all true and he knew it firsthand.

"Reminds me of when ya smacked tha' Woodbury guy cuz he assumed ya were an easy fix." You sputtered out a laugh at the memory. "I don't even know how he thought that would work.."

"Hell, ya even turned me down lord knows how many times 'fore we found 'im again." Daryl nudged at Rick, recollecting the time you spent together with the Claimers.

His comment had you shy away again a little, still not comfortable to discuss any of that with your father in the room.

"Look." Rick interrupted the silence that had fallen again. "I'm not entirely agreeing with this, but at least I know Daryl's able to take care of you."

A stern finger pointed between the two of you next. "I just don't want to see any of it. Understood?"

You looked at Daryl and then at Rick. "So, that means you're okay with it?" The blessing turned the moths from before back into fluttering butterflies that spilled the words right past your lips, not even time for your brain to filter them.

"I promise it's not just what you saw in the photos, there's so much care and love, too. He even taught me how to hunt so I'll have food if we ever got separated." There was excitement in your voice, happiness even. It sang through the room as you rambled on about the feelings shared between you and the hunter.

"Think yer dad's heard 'nough fer today." There was a smile on Daryl's face as he could feel the unease radiate from his dearest friend. "M'headin' home. Ya get sum rest an' we'll talk t'morrow, yeah?"

As Daryl retreated you moved to go wash the dishes in silence, only the sound of running water and clanking plates to be heard. You didn't even notice the scrape of the chair across the floor, or the shadow cast beside you as your father joined you at the counter to dry what you washed.

"You know what?" His voice spoke suddenly beside you, pulling you away from your task."I'm glad it's Daryl you picked to be your partner."

A/N: Lords this took way too long. I hope it's any good 🙏🙏

[madaqueue]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

playlists | 'do i wanna know' x hozier

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

themes/content: angst. alcohol consumption, a not-great breakup, sometimes you don't have to say 'i love you' to know it. 18+ MDNI (wk: 1.5k)

a/n: maybe putting this man in a situation will get me out of my writer's block

“Hi, baby,” Satoru’s slurred voice crackles through the speaker, cold metal held to your ear.

At least through the shitty phone you refuse to upgrade, he can’t hear your sigh from the other end. “Where are you?”

“I’m not telling,” he sing-songs, ending with a hiccup he can’t quite stifle.

Not that his answer really matters, only half playing through the otherwise-silent bedroom. You’re already up, groggily pulling on sweatpants and palming for the shape of your keys, lit by the tiny screen blinking his name.

“Well, don’t go too far. I’m on my way.” You hang up before he can complain (not that he would - if you had stayed on the call for a second longer, you would have heard the contented sigh slipping from his lips, a quiet ‘thank you’ that his microphone might have missed).

The bar is sticky and hot, uncomfortable at any time, but especially at 1:30 a.m. when you should be at home under soft sheets and moonlight. Shedding your coat does little to fix the air clinging to your skin like a vice as your eyes scan past neon lights, parsing through the blaring music for something familiar. A flash of white across the room, and your steps fall in a straight line.

When you place your hand between his shoulder blades (gently, of course - you know he startles easily), he manages to pull his head from the haven of his elbows, a temporary shelter along the wooden countertop.

“You came.” His grin is wild and unruly, only half there, but his eyes pierce through you all the same. You’ve always felt too bare under them; you tug your jacket on.

“Let’s go, Satoru.”

He doesn’t protest as you loop one arm around his torso, and lets you pull him to his feet. It’s always a bit of a balancing act to get him through the door, his lanky limbs colliding with yours, his shoes heavier than the rest of his body. Drunken giggles tumble into your ear from where his head rests atop yours, watching you kick his ankles away to keep him upright.

“Were you born with two left feet or something?” you grumble to yourself, muffled by the screeching chatter encasing you.

“Don’t think so,” he says earnestly. With a slow glance downward, he hums. “Nope. Right and left.”

You scoff to hide the giggle that threatens to escape. You wish he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t charm you and force a smile, wouldn’t make you ache with forgiveness.

The night air is cold and welcome, finally letting your lungs expand fully for the first time in what feels like days, in spite of Satoru’s crushing weight on your shoulders. Opening his door first, he falls into the seat, enveloped by the familiar cloth, and you fasten his seatbelt before stepping into the driver’s side. In the confined space of the car, the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, slowly making its way towards you, and you sniffle. The engine hums as you drive, roads and turns you know better than the veins coursing below your skin, ones that tingle under a watchful gaze.

With a quick glance, you find Satoru’s eyes lazily fixed on your own.

“You’ve got a staring problem,” you state.

“Just admiring the view.”

The thrum of your pulse picks up. You resent it.

“I still love you, y’know.”

The leather covering of the steering wheel creaks below your tightening grip. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was teasing, playing coy, pushing your buttons until he finds the one that makes you force him out along the highway. Unfortunately, you know it’s genuine.

“Because.” You exhale. “Because you broke up with me.”

A groan is muffled beneath his palm, rubbing into his skin as if he could wipe the words away. It was mutual, you told your friends, who took it well, your parents, who didn’t, as you tried to hide the familiar stinging in your eyes, as though you hadn’t just emerged from the bathroom where the water ran cold from scrubbing salt stains off your cheeks.

“It doesn’t make it any less true.” When he’s forced to hear the click of the turn signal too many times against the silence, he continues. “And I didn’t wanna break up with you.”

Ah, his favorite excuse. It makes you grimace at the bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. ‘I don’t want this either,’ he said as you screamed and cried in his arms, as he held you until the worst of the shaking was over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

“Whatever,” you acquiesce (he’ll never shut up if you don’t give him something to cling to).

(He only feels sane when he hears your voice. The silence aches for it; it tears at him from the inside out. If his agony could sound like you, he’d suffer like this forever.)

Before he can beg for more, his door opens. You reach across his waist to undo the seatbelt and toss his arm over your shoulders again.

In his hazy mind, he wonders how many times you’ve done this - he never really remembers this part, so it makes it hard to count. But there’s a fluidity as you shuffle towards the garage, punching in a code he never dared to change, as you wait the three seconds for it to rise just above his head and maneuver him inside.

And of course he doesn’t have to guide you towards the bedroom (he has to call it that now, ‘the’ bedroom; he thinks you got upset with him for calling it ‘our’ bedroom once, but that’s foggy, too).

With a huff you toss him onto the bed, every muscle uncoordinated, too out of it to scramble for the shreds of his dignity. Instead, he watches silently as you untie his shoes, unlatch his belt, unbutton his shirt. Even in just his boxers he doesn’t feel bare, not under your eyes, ones too gentle to cut.

“There’s water on the bedside table, and I put some crackers there, too. Please eat them.”

“M’sorry.”

“What?” You try to ignore the way your throat burns, the way your legs can’t move.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“Satoru, what-”

“That’s why.” When he finally removes the arm that had been shielding his face, those bright blue eyes are dull, clouded with tears. “That’s why I - hic - fucked it up. I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I love you so much and I wasn’t strong enough.” I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, I was too dangerous, I would have gotten you hurt. I should have protected you, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in the thickness at the back of his tongue.

Some part of you, a part you tried to crush and kill and bury, claws its way out. You sit at the edge of the bed and rub his arm.

“It’s okay. I loved you, too.”

Loved. What a wretched thing past tense is. He wants to scream.

“No!” he cries, the sound weak and cracked. “I can’t…I can’t do anything but this, but love you. You’re the only one. And I ruined it.”

He makes no move towards you, curling into himself instead, sucking everything in until you’re captured by it, too. Your hands cradle his face, and let the tears spill over your fingers.

“I’m sorry I called you.”

The sobs have started to quiet, his breathing becoming less labored. He’s shaking less, now, with your skin on his.

“It’s okay.”

Your fingertips travel along his jaw, and you try to ignore how beautiful he looks with tears catching under the moonlight, how the comforter is stained darker beneath his cheeks. You try to ignore the way this hurts worse than any wound could, that you would have rather be killed for loving him than suffer through losing him. You try to ignore the way your heartbeat slows with your skin on his.

Through parted lips, his sleep-laden sighs fall steadier. His forehead is warm beneath your lips.

His protection is a funny thing, you’ve grown to realize. Maybe it’s his upbringing, or his job or his role or something else that has infiltrated and woven its way into his mind, but he seems to get it all twisted up, entangled in the ropes of it. How funny, to protect someone by alienating them; how funny, to make them watch as you destroy yourself.

But you don’t mind. Not really, not when you get to brush damp strands of hair from his neck, when you get to pull the blankets up to his shoulders and watch the soft sheets tickle his skin.

You don’t mind that you’ll always have a space in your heart with his absence carved out of it, that you’ll always leave your keys on the bedside table, that you’ll always come back, even if you’re crawling, your hands and knees will carry you to him. You have to protect him too, after all.

Softly, you whisper, “I’ll always answer your calls.”

[luvlyycy]

a/n — hiiii , >< . the bed pic is YOUR bedroom fyi. also, this is a cheating fic cus reader has a bf (toji) n yknow blahblahblah blah. 'n kuna smokes. (its bad for your lungs, i dont even smoke lol) also kuna is bi curious lmao. chubby reader !!!!

♡ ──╮꒰ Summary ! ꒱ , , , Your boyfriend bugs Sukuna. It isn't the fact that he dislikes Toji, he actually really (reallllyyyyy) likes him— but it's the fact that he's fucking you and Sukuna isn't.

He thinks it's been around five years since Toji had been his roommate, not bothering to actually pinpoint the years. He tolerates Toji, and by that I mean, they are really good friends. They'll smoke together whenever the chance arises— maybe go out for a drink as well. Sukuna really liked the guy, seriously. Although, there was one thing about him that really ticked him off.

Toji was a whore.

That's not said lightly, I mean fuck, the guy already got a kid. Every single fucking night there was some curvy hyper-feminine bimbo latched onto his roommate's arm. He would always hear the stupid fucking moaning, or cringe-worthy screams of a girl who watched way too much porn. That's not to say Sukuna didn't get his fuck on every now and then, but Toji was on another level. He's shocked his dick hasn't broke. He started to notice that there was one girl in particular who showed up more than the others, sometimes multiple times in a row.

Pretty girl, he thought, she doesn't moan like the others, not over dramatic, dresses cute, likes pink- you were really his type. Eventually during one of the smoke sessions between him and Toji, he brought it up.

"So," Sukuna started, sliding a hand through his hair as he sniffed, "you datin' that new bitch?" he chuckled out as he turned to his black-haired buddy who was taking a quick hit from the blunt before turning his head.

"Yeah, think so. Girl said she love me." he lets out a soft 'tch' noise in amusement, smoke exiting out from his mouth as he did so. He handed the bud over, watching how Sukuna's lips curled upward-

"She's pretty. Like, real cute type shit." he laughs as he grabs the blunt from Toji, placing it in his mouth and taking a short breath in, blowing out smoke afterwards.

"Her pussy's good too."

"Ah?" Sukuna let out, leaning his head back against the couch, his mind unfortunately wandering. Was it really? You probably have a tight pussy, maybe creamy. You'd look cute squirting. He smiles to himself before quickly frowning. He's only seen you in passing, he doesn't even know your name. The only words exchanged between the two of you were hello's and bye's.

'ding!'

Toji looks at his phone, seemingly reading a message, "Speak of the devil," he starts, causing Sukuna to glance over, "she wants me to come over for dinner. Said I could bring ya. You tryna come?"

He takes a moment, thinking before his mouth spoke before he could think, "Sure.".

That's how it started, seeming to be a routine of some sort, you would either cook or order dinner and invite them both over for movies- but, Sukuna had couch duty. Every night he would watch you cutely drag Toji to your bed room, sparkling lights catching his eyes for just a mere second before the door shut and your giggling died out. Like clockwork, he'd think, you would start moaning, squealing, whining, whimpering- it drove him crazy. Unlike the other girls Toji was into, you seemed to actually have a brain, seemed to actually register that your real moaning was fucking magnificent. He would be able to hear your soft sobs, 'what if we wake s'kuna?' , slurring over your words.

That would be the only time you said his name, the rest would be Toji. Some nights he would find himself pathetically pawing at his cock in his pants, it fucking hurts to be this hard, he thinks.

"Look at ya, creaming all over my cock. Ya like that? Yeah?"

Sukuna shut his eyes, pulling his pants down just below his heavy aching balls, grunting as he grabs hold of his throbbing dick.

"Mhhh, fuuuck— yes, yes, fucking love it. Oh godd."

You sounded so breathless, in such bliss. He moves his hand up and down, stroking his length as he pictured he was the one making you sound like that- he was the one making you cream on his cock. He let your name slip pass his pierced lips, as he circles his fist to match the pace he heard. Hard, fast, and rough.

"G'nna cum.." he mumbles, hearing a soft 'me too' from behind your door, he matches the routine by painting his abdomen white, muscles tense as he slams his head against the couch.

Fuck my life, he thinks.

Those nights were more often then not, but he wouldn't pay it any mind- in his eyes he were a measly cuck. That word hanging over him like a L on his forehead.

He's memorized your place by now, typically staying in the kitchen or living room— the kitchen happens to be his favorite. Even though sometimes you cook, you usually make him do it, saying when he's high he makes better food. It's cute 'n all, but it pulls at his heart— you like eating his food. He'll watch you eat his food, your cute eyes bright as you chomp, squishy cheeks full of food he made.

Stupid, he thinks as he sits beside Toji, blunt between his fingers as he stares at the ceiling— the ceiling is white, it accompanies your light pink decor.

"You look fucked." he hears Toji laugh out beside him, his eyes are half-lidded and he has a lopsided grin on his mouth per usual— scar on his lip stretching.

"Yeah?" Sukuna hazily replies moving his hand over to the other male's, passing the blunt. Toji fully grins, watching as Sukuna's eyes follow his tongue when he licks his lips, "Yeah.".

Sukuna watches as Toji places the blunt in his mouth, still looking at his so-called buddy, he sucks in a breath— taking his time to let out a quick groan as he does so.

Sukuna places his fingers subtly on Toji's bicep, pupils blown out— "You're fucking hot." .

Toji snickers, holding in smoke before grabbing Sukuna's cheek, he opens his mouth and lets the smoke roll out before chuckling afterward— Sukuna breathes in the smoke through his nose, eyes fluttering shut before opening when Toji releases him.

Toji stretches his arms out in front of him, " 'ight , let's clean this shit up 'fore she get back 'n whoop my ass." he turns his head towards the dazed man beside him, grinning again.

"Yeah, let's do that."

He doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with him. Is it Toji or you? He didn't even know he liked Toji like that— he was just high. Yeah, just high. He spends time cleaning up all the bud and freshening up the place before you get back, and when you do Toji kisses you on your glossy plump lips that Sukuna wish he could kiss too.

" Mind stayin' wit Sukuna for the day, baby?" he says, placing his hands on your waist— thumbs massaging your skin. "Why? Where you off to?" you frown as you hold your shopping bags at your side, squinting at your boyfriend.

"G'nna workout, relax." he laughs as he turns to Sukuna, who's seemingly beginning to sober up— you glance at him too, smiling as you look up at Toji, "Okay, don't be long alright? Or I'm whoopin' yo ass." you giggle, placing a chaste kiss to Toji, muttering 'love you' against his lips before he says it too.

You hop over to your couch, sitting down with a soft 'unf' before setting your bag in your lap as Toji gets ready to leave. Sukuna looks at you, silent— he's quietly taking in your beauty, your skirt leaving your thighs exposed, pretty pink nails holding onto your bag.

"Hey," you start.

"Ah??" he replies.

"Can you hold my bag for a sec? Bein' all dolled up is tirin'." you stifle a small giggle as you hold out your bag towards the man beside you, fingers adorned with silver rings grab onto the bag.

After you get up, it takes you a few minutes to unwind and get undressed— during that, Sukuna stares at the bag that you previously had in your lap, which is now in his. Whatever's in it is soft, he pictures a plushy— maybe a cat? Girls like cats. He uses pointer-finger and thumb to spread the bag open, glancing in it.

He spots earrings, necklaces, and— ah a plushie, a cat. It's a tiger. He'd grin, sharp canines mocking the plushie's as he did so. He places two fingers on the small toy's cheeks, squishing— it is.. kind of cute.. he frowns. Squish, squish. Squish, squish. His lips curl into a small smile, continuing his antics until he's snapped out of it—

"You can have it if you want, Kuna." you giggle, hips swaying as you walk towards the couch, oversized t-shirt n some short shorts on as you sit.

He frowns pushing the bag off his lap and laying it atop the table, "Whatever.".

You and he were undoubtedly close friends, there would be times like this when Toji would leave and you and he would be alone. You were touchy but too overly— you would place your legs on his lap and he would hold your feet, hand resting on your knee. The cold metal of his rings tickling your skin— similar to now.

Sukuna glances at the bag of bud on the table, then at you— being high around you was better than being sober, he thought.

"You smoke?" he questioned, reaching for your pink tray, not that you ever used it. You only had it for him n Toji.

"Nah," you lifted one of your legs, hands playing with the hem of your shirt, "I like my lungs." you giggle. Sukuna lets out a soft huff in amusement, beginning to roll a blunt for himself.

You turn your head towards the television, a shitty reality show about dating on, merely as background noise.

"Why you let me 'n Toji smoke in your house then?" he questions, your head turning towards him— licking your lower lip as he licks the wrap for his blunt, a smirk on his lips.

" 'Cause he's my boyfriend 'n you kinda like his boytoy, I guess." you look away, used to having this sculpture-like being in your home, distracting yourself by watching the shitty show mentioned earlier.

Sukuna scoffed, after a small while he placed the tray down and lighted his blunt, taking a few tries before tossing the lighter onto the table.

"His boytoy, huh? Never thought about that shit." he wraps his left hand around your ankle and pulls, making you giggle. You scoot closer to him, the back of your thighs on his as your bum resting on the couch.

'ding!'

Sukuna glances over at his phone on the arm of the couch, huffing out smoke as he taps on the message from Toji, an image to be precise.

Toji was flexing in the mirror, a grin adorning his features as sweat stuck to his forehead, hair just a bit messier than usual. He had no shirt on, grey sweatpants dangerously low on his waist— captioned with, 'shoulda came with me .' .

He huffs for a moment, eyes lingering far too long on the image before shutting it off and tossing it on the table, moving his attention toward you noticing how you watched TV with no interest.

He swaps hands, blunt now in his left— right hand grazing our cranium, fingers scratching at your scalp, "Wanna change the channel?" he asks as he does so. You let out a soft 'mnh', laying your head on his shoulder, scooting closer to his warmth.

Sukuna curses himself, how could he ever let Toji find you before he did? On the other hand, he's trying his hardest not to let his dick grow. Hyperaware of how you two are sitting, he glances down at your bare legs, then drags his gaze down to your ankles and right back up to your plump thighs. He fights the urge to fucking groan. He looks at your face, taking note of how your lips are almost touching his shirt— he wants to kiss you so bad.

He finds himself whispering your name, watching as your eyes flick up to meet his, seemingly sleepy.

"Yeah?"

If there had been an angel in his life it was you, he thinks as he turns his head away, taking a quick and small hit from the blunt fingers still rubbing at your scalp. He's at a loss for words— you pat his chest.

"What is it, Kuna?"

Fuck it.

He turns his head towards you, gripping the back of your cranium, he takes two moments to gauge your reactions— watching the way your mouth opens in a panic, then he kisses you.

You groan into his mouth as he just holds you there for a moment waiting to see if you'll reciprocate. It takes about a minute. He licks at your lips and you open them.

You fucking open your lips— for him.

He groans into your mouth as he begins to lick at every crevice in your mouth, tasting you. You whimper, before he pulls away, throwing his blunt onto the tray—

"Can we go to my room, Kuna? Ion like doin' it on my couch."

You've been fucked on the couch. Noted. He'd have to do that too.

"Lead the way." he huffs out, you press a small kiss against his lips before getting up, hand wrapped around his tattooed wrist— Sukuna follows you like a lost dog, managing to take his weed along with him.

You open the door to your room and he smiles at the sight of it— pink and white decorating your room as well as a light pink canopy hanging over your bed with dim yellow lights. You lead him towards your bed, plopping your butt on your soft bed as he stands over you— you lean backward, hands on the bed as you smile up at him.

Sukuna places a hand on your jaw, similar to the way Toji had done to him, before placing his lips on yours. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, dragging him down with you as you lay your back down.

Sukuna pulls away to look at your pretty face, admiring the way your eyes flickered from his lips then to his eyes, he grins— "You want me t'fuck ya?" he latches his lips onto your neck, kissing and licking, making his way down your body.

"God, Kuna..." you huff, hands grabbing onto the bigger male's shoulders, watching as he places his blunt and the lighter from his pocket on the pink desk beside your bed.

He drags his hands up your shirt, fingers reaching for your breasts— he kneads the supple flesh before rubbing and pulling at your nipples, his face right in front of them. He groans as he takes your shirt off, finding it troublesome, he takes a moment to ogle your breasts— latching his mouth on your left nipple, using his other hand to squish your nipple.

You arch your back into him, hands pulling on his locks as you squirm— he feels similar to Toji you thought, but much more sloppy. He slobbers on your tits before moving down to your shorts, he hooks his arm around your waist, sitting on his knees.

He peels your shorts off, groaning when he sees you wearing no panties, and that you're fucking soaked. He throws the shorts somewhere around the room eyes still hooked to your soaking fat pussy practically just waiting for him. Sukuna wraps another arm around your waist and pulls your pussy up to his mouth, treating you as if you were a doll. He attempts to wrap his mouth around your entire mound, licking and sucking at your clit and dragging his fat tongue in and out of your cunt.

He groans as he licks up all your juices, listening to your moans and whimpers when he bumps his nose on your clit— licking on your pussy lips to ensure he gets all the juices. "F—uhh,ck. Kunaaa... kuna, 'm gonna cum—.. nnnnhh."

"Gh, fuck. Cum, I want you to cum all over my fuckin' face." he huffs, burying his face into your heat and rewarding himself with pornographic moans from your mouth as he shakes his head side to side, his spit dripping from your shiny pussy down to your ass. You let out a long whine, hands shaking as you try to grab onto anything to ground yourself— squirming to attempt to run away. His grip tightens around your waist as he rides out your orgasm, squirt dribbling out of you and onto his tongue.

He stuffs his mouth full of your cunt for a few more minutes before letting you go, laying you flat in front of him.

You look at him through lidded eyes, watching as he licks his lips and wipes his chin, leaning down to kiss you again— forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

"Was that good, baby?" he whispers into your mouth, lowering his hand to your pussy to rub at your swollen clit earning a hiss from you. "Fuck, kuna, it's too much. Can't take it..—"

Haven't even fucked her yet, he thinks, grinning similar to the tiger plush you both left in the living room. Sukuna leans backward, removing his black shirt and throwing it away, silver accessories adorning his skin. You stare at his chest, eyes traveling along his tattoos before you pull on his black jeans, "take 'em off?", you ask.

"Take 'em off? Ya sure? Ya sure your pretty lil pussy can even take my dick?"

You pout, hands wrapping around your breasts, "pleeasee?"

He snickers, unbuckling his black belt and pulling it through the loops, then removing his jeans along with his boxers.

You glance down at his cock, watching his throb— he was a little longer than Toji, not thicker but definitely longer.

"Don't say it ain't gonna fit 'cus I know it will." he places his hand flat on your stomach, his rings now warm from all the times he touched you. He rubs the tip of his swollen cock against your clit, bumping it— "Stop squirmin', movin' too damn much." he huffs, letting you lift your legs and wrap your hands around them, squishing your tummy n boobs in the process.

He feels the rolls of your stomach underneath his hand and he smiles— you feel and look so beautiful, he must be blessed to have you even showing your cunt to him— Toji probably felt the same.

He uses his thumb to spread open your sticky pussy lips, watching clear bubbles seep out of your hole— he lets out a moan at the sight, removing his hand from your tummy to grab his cock, rubbing the tip on your entrance. He pushes the tip of his dick inside of you, eyes hooked on the way your cunt sucks him in.

"Your pussy always feel this good?"

you whimper in response, feeling your cunt stretch around Sukuna's cock, heavy balls resting on the curve of your ass.

Sukuna pulls your body closer to him, leaning over you as he reaches toward the desk beside your bed, grabbing his blunt and lighter — he places the blunt between his lips, using his hand to cover his lighter, taking a few tries but he lights it. He grins as he holds the smoke in his mouth, putting the blunt out on your shirt on the bed before tossing it back on the desk.

He holds the smoke in his mouth, placing his hands on either side of your head as he slowly drives his cock into your cunt— causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

"feels.. s'good, kuna." you huff, feeling his cock splitting you open is intoxicating— the mushroom tip of his dick pushing at your cervix. He takes a second to groan, smoke coming out from his nose and blowing on your face. He pulls his hips back and thrusts back into your heat— grin spreading on his face.

It's like a dream, the way your pussy sucks in his cock— the way your sloppy fucking cunt doesn't wanna let go of him— fuck, it's enough to make a man cry. It takes him a few seconds before he begins pumping his cock into you, driving as deep as he physically can. He wraps his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back— blowing out the smoke onto your skin.

"Feel good, mama?—" he growls, sharp canines sinking into your neck, surely leaving a mark for Toji to see. You nod absent-mindedly, lifting your hips to match along with his thrusts— your juices dripping from your entrance and onto the bed. "Yeah?" he leans up to watch your fucked out expression, admiring the way fat tears prickled in the corners of your eyes— mouth wide open as you spew out incoherent babbles. It's cute, you're cute— making such a silly face due to the onslaught he's giving to your cunt.. what a sight.

He can feel your pussy convulse, feel it get tighter— twitching around his fat cock, "You cummin'?" .

You grip his shoulders, legs shaking as you try desperately to come down from your high— it doesn't take awhile before he's pulling another orgasm out of your sensitive cunt. He grabs onto the back of your thighs, pressing them against your chest to drive his cock deeper into you. It takes everything in him not to cum, especially when your squirt drenches him and trickles down his balls.

His jaw clenches as he wraps his arms around your legs, hands resting on your cheeks, rings cold again.

" Mhh, I'm gonna cum in this slutty pussy." he snickers when he feels you're nearly loose pussy tighten around him, babbles of 'no's' or 'toji's gnna find out' exit your cute swollen lips. He doesn't care if Toji finds out. It doesn't bother him at all— not when the thought of Toji fucking his cum into you crosses his mind. Toji cumming in the same pussy that holds his spunk? Sounds like heaven in his mind.

"Da— nnnfg, fuck, daddy—"

He grins. You're so fucked stupid, you don't even register what you're saying.

"Huh, what is it, sweetie? Ngh, what do you want— fuuh, ck. Whaddya want from daddy?" he slows his hips, pressing his lips on yours in a soft kiss.

"You want daddy's cum?—" he scoffed, leaning down to press multiple kisses on your face as he fucks into you slowly— in an attempt to prolong his oncoming climax. You nod, hands now pressed against Sukuna's hard body leaving angry red marks in their wake.

"Words."

"Yes !!"

"I'll give it to ya then, mama. Fuck a baby into this cheating pussy." he babbles, picking up the pace— cock bullying your pussy, the fat mushroom tip poking into your cervix almost painfully. It doesn't take a while until he feels himself about to cum, letting out quick breathy groans.

"Kiss me." he groans out, you whine as you press your drool-laced lips on his, his snakebite piercings poking your lips as you kiss him— your tongues tangling together merely just licking against each other's, mouths open.

He whines for a second before moaning into your mouth, pressing his cock into you.

One, two, three, four— until he's emptying his heavy balls inside of you, spraying his seed everywhere. "Oh fuck, oh fuck," he repeats, still mindlessly humping into you until his cock goes flaccid, it doesn't register to him that you came as well.

You both stay there for a while, your legs sore as he still holds you in position, evidently folding you. He breathes slowly as he presses his forehead against yours, using his thumb to wipe tears away from your cheeks.

He stifles a whimper as he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness making you wince— he lays beside you, leaning up against your pink wall, pink pillows against his back.

"Kuna??.."

"Huh?" he glances at your sleepy face, your eyes droopy as you attempt to get comfortable in your bed. Sukuna assists you by placing the blanket over your sore body.

"I'm sleepy." you giggle as Sukuna scrunches up his nose at you, using his hand to tickle your neck— "Sleep then." he stops as you just nod, still dazed by the sex you had earlier.

He watches as you snuggle up in your bed, laying your head on one of your many pillows. He looks for his phone, remembering he left it in the living room— he groans, getting out of the warm embrace of which was your bed. He pulls on his jeans, not bothering to button them up before exiting your room and entering the living room.

He spots his phone on the table where he must have thrown it, he bends over to grab it when he hears the door open and close— fuck. Sukuna gazes up to spot Toji walking through the door, sweaty. Black hair a mess as it sticks to his face, lips curling into a frown once he notices Sukuna without a shirt.

Sukuna stands up straight, stuffing his phone in his pocket before Toji can speak— big arms folded over, black compress shirt stretching over his muscles.

"Guess I'm late to the shit rockin' party." he huffs out, stepping closer to the male standing across from him. "Ya coulda asked me, asshole." he mumbles, one hand being pressed on Sukuna's chest forcefully.

It's strange, off-putting nearly. Toji didn't seem mad.

Sukuna stifled a chuckle, hand running through his hair, "Guess I couldn't wait." he responds, watching as Toji grins, scar enlarging.

"Lemme guess, she's asleep?"

Sukuna nods, hands now resting on his hips, eyes searching Toji's face for any discomfort— it feels as if he had been the one to cheat. Toji tilts his head to the side, stepping closer to the point where his chest had nearly hit Sukuna's.

"You up for another fuck?" large hands land on the other's waist, his thumb which had been painted pink by you rubbing circles into his skin.

"Although, you won't be the one doing the fucking." grin.

tags [ @cindol ] also, ty cinny for dealing with me while writing this stupid fucking novel. i added multiple tojikuna stuff for you too!! love u babezzz <3

do NOT repost or translate without my permission. this post belongs to @luvlyycy . plagiarism is illegal.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

second chance [part two]

summary: feyre finally meets rhysand's favorite person.

warnings: slightly suggestive and tons of fluff.

pairings: inner circle x reader, azriel x reader

words: 2.8k

a/n: hi! so, as promised, here is part two. i hope you like it just as much as the first one. i also want to thank you guys for your support and comments, it made me really happy.

the flight to the house of wind was a quick one.

feyre recently learned that she loved to fly. she loved the light of the sun on her skin, the sweet breeze on her hair, but most of all, the view.

feyre was in rhys' arms. he held her tight against his chest while she gazed at the city below her.

she would never get tired of this view or the sounds. there were children laughing and playing by the river, musicians playing melodies while some couples danced around, artists painting and people walking through the market buying fresh vegetables, flowers, among other things.

cassian was flying ahead of them, and he, too, was enjoying the view of the city of starlight.

a few minutes later, the house of wind came into sight. they made their way towards the house and landed on the balcony that was connected to the kitchen.

rhys set feyre back on the floor, and the three of them headed towards the threshold of the balcony and entered the house.

as soon as they entered the kitchen, they could hear the laughter and the voices of the inner circle through the hallway that led to the main living room.

cassian was the first to move. rhys went to follow his brother when he realized that feyre hadn't moved from her spot by the entrance of the balcony. 

he turned around to approach her, and a frown made its way to his face, "what's wrong? are you ok?"

"i. . .hum. . ." feyre realized at that moment that she was nervous to meet you.

you weren't just someone.

you are rhys and cassian's little sister, azriel's best friend and probably something more.

rhys didn't mention your relationship with amren and mor while they talked about you, but she had absolutely no doubt that you were equally loved, cared, and important to them as well. 

she didn't want to make a bad impression.

she didn't want to disappoint you, but more importantly, she didn't want you to dislike her.

she hadn't thought about these things before, but now that she was here, only a hallway and seconds, maybe minutes away from meeting you?

feyre couldn't help but wonder what would happen if things didn't go as well as she wanted.

what if she said something wrong and ended up hurting your feelings?

she had no doubt that amren would rip her head off if she dared to hurt you in any way. 

rhys hand waved in front of her face and broke her from her worries and doubts.

she met his violet eyes and saw concern in his face.

rhys spoke before she could, "are you ok? i just called you three times, and you didn't even move." 

"i'm fine," feyre said with a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.

the look on Rhys face told her that she didn't convince him. 

"are you sure? you look a little pale, and your heartbeat is really fast." rhys insisted, trying to make her talk to him so he could help her with whatever was troubling her.

feyre bit her lower lip, something she had always done when she was nervous since she was a child.

"i think. . ." feyre paused, releasing a long breath before she continued. "i'm nervous to meet y/n. what if i make a bad impression and she doesn't like me?"

rhys gaze softens at her worries, and the frown is replaced by a smile on his lips.

putting a hand on her shoulder in order to provide her a little comfort, rhys replies, "i can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. y/n is sweet and kind, funny and sometimes a little loud," rhys chuckles, earning a giggle from feyre, "she's very talkative, like really but really talkative, your only worry should be at the fact that there's a very high chance that once she starts talking with you, she'll never shut up." 

feyre can't help the laughter that erupts from her, smacking his bicep. she says, "stop it."

"i'm serious! she talks a lot, she also loves to hear herself talk but," feyre laughed more and rhys joined her, a big smile on his lips "that's one of the reasons why she's such a good emissary. but seriously, y/n gets along with everyone, even Beron, believe it or not. in all the years that i have known her, she never disliked anyone." 

feyre relaxed immediately, her worries and doubts completely forgotten. "how old is she, by the way? i meant to ask you that earlier, but cassian came into the room before i had the chance." 

"she's 122. she's still young." rhys said with a hint of irony in his voice.

feyre chuckled, replying with the same irony. "right, young." 

rhys opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a new set of laughters sounded from down the hallway, making both of them look in the direction of the sound.

rhys turned again and met feyre's gaze, "ready?" 

"yes. let's go meet the girl that gave you those." feyre mentioned while gesturing to his hand where the tooth bites lay.

rhys could only chuckle before he turned around and guided the way towards the living room where his family awaited, feyre following him.

when rhys passed the threshold to the living room, feyre stopped just for a second to give a deep breath before doing the same.

the moment she walked in, she saw you immediately.

your back was facing them. you were in the middle of your family, and you were talking with amren while pointing at a jewelry box she held in her hand.

a pair of earrings shined inside of the box.

rhys was only a few steps ahead of her when he called you by your nickname, "little star."

feyre couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to. she knew that the only thing on his features at that moment was love.

you turned your head around at the sound of your big brother's voice. "rhys!" was the only thing you managed to say before you started running in his direction.

rhys opened his arms, and you jumped into his embrace, holding him tightly around his neck while he held you back, spinning you around in the process. 

rhys put you down and kissed your cheek. "i missed you."

"rhys, i have only been gone for six days," you responded with a scoff and a roll your eyes. 

rhys chucked at your antics, "how was winter court?"

"cold and snowy." you answered, earning chuckles from your family at your irony. "it was good, you'll have a report on your desk tomorrow morning."

rhys nodded before asking you, "why did you return earlier? we were expecting you in only a few hours."

"because i'm amazing at my job," you said, amusement all over your face.

your family scoffed, and rhys lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly knowing there was another reason for your early arrival.

you sighed, accepting defeat, "and because kallias and viviane are newly mated, and i didn't want to be a witness of their frenzy bonding in case i ended up seeing something that i really shouldn't." 

your family laughed, and it was now mor's turn to talk. "oh, you poor baby. still traumatized from walking in on cassian with that pretty nymph?"

"ugh! please don't remind me of that. i swear i had nightmares because of it," you protested.

"hey, no one told you to enter without knocking first. lesson learned, little star." cassian told you while ruffling your hair.

you swat his hand and look at him. "what are you talking about, brother? you two were in rhys office. you weren't even supposed to be there in the first place."

you turned to look at your other brother who happened to have his mouth open at the new information, obviously unknown to him. "i hope you cleaned every surface and thing you have there," you paused for a second before speaking again. "you know what? thinking better, you should just replace everything. it may be safer that way." you finished with a disgusted face.

"what?!" rhys asked with a firm voice — his high lord voice. 

cassian shot you an irritating look. "dammed you, y/n. he didn't know that," your only response was an innocent smile.

rhys moved to his left in order to get an explanation from the events that occurred in his office, making feyre enter your camp of vision, and that's when you locked eyes with her.

you approached her and started the conversation.

"hi, you must be feyre. i'm y/n," you said while extending your hand to her and offering a sweet smile.

feyre grabbed your hand and shook it. "it's so nice to finally meet you."

now, with rhys out of the way, feyre was able to have a better look at you.

and Cauldron, feyre couldn't take her eyes off you.

you were beautiful. your white hair was loose and curled down to your waist, your blue eyes, and your slightly pale skin.

and then, your dress.

the dress was white and light blue, the skirt reached your feet and had a pattern in waves that reminded of snow, the sleeves went all the way to your wrists, fluffy white fur laid at the ends of your skirt and sleeves.

you looked like an angel. 

"thank you," you answered with a warm smile.

it was only then that feyre realized she said that out loud.

a hint of confusion settled at your face when you asked her, "did azriel tell you to say that?"

now, it was feyre's turn to be confused. why would you think that?

"no, he didn't. why?"

"Oh, it's just. . .hum," you paused, your cheeks starting to blush a little, "that's what he calls me. it's his nickname for me."

feyre laughed. azriel was right in calling you that. "i thought your nickname was 'little star'."

you chuckled, "that's the nicknames the others use for me. except amren. she keeps calling me 'child'," you said with a roll of your eyes. 

"because you are a child," amren answered you from her place next to mor while she was contemplating the earrings in the jewelry box.

rhys and cassian still arguing about the office events with azriel watching them amused.

you turned your head to her. "yeah, yeah. whatever you say, granny."

feyre stilled for a moment. thinking that amren was about to launch herself on you for what you just called her, but then she saw amren laugh with a genuine smile on her lips before returning to stare at the earrings.

feyre relaxed and joined the laughter while looking at amren's earrings.

you followed her gaze, and that's when you remembered.

"oh, right," you returned your eyes to feyre. "wait for a moment."

feyre saw you turn back around towards the couch from where you pulled a dark purple bag and a small box.

you walked to thys and extended your arm to give him the bag, "your gift," you said and planted a kiss on his cheek.

rhys thanked you for your gift, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead, and returned to argue with cassian.

you made your way to feyre, and when you reached her, you gave her the small box, "here. it's for you."

feyre accepted it, with surprise all over her face. she studied the box for a moment. it was a simple box made of wood and on top of it had a mountain with three stars above.

the insignia of the night court.

she looked at you again. "you brought me a gift?"

"of course. i couldn't just bring gifts to everyone else and not one for you," you explained with a smile.

feyre returned the smile, at your kindness, she asked with curiosity dancing in her eyes. "what is it?"

"it's a music box. to help you with your nightmares."

feyre stilled at your words, and after a few seconds, you continued "it has all of velaris' melodies. there's a few from the other courts, too, but it's mostly velaris. it''s enchanted so it can play for as long as you want or need. the melodies are soft and calm, so it will help you sleep and keep the nightmares away."

feyre had no words. she didn't know what to say.

just a few minutes ago, she was worrying about you not liking her, but here you are, offering her one of the best gifts she has ever received.

those worries and doubts seemed silly now. her eyes darted to the music box again, but she looked up at the sound of your voice.

"azriel gave me one a few years ago. i used to have nightmares about my childhood and also from some of the things i saw over the decades as a consequence of being part of this world. i had hard nights where i couldn't sleep, haunted by those nightmares. so, azriel, ever the spymaster, gave me one of these," you said, gesturing to the box.

"i have played it every night since. it brings me comfort and reminds me that i'm safe and i'm not alone. i gave one to my brother after he came back from under the mountain. it helped him a lot, so i thought of doing the same thing for you." you ended with the warmest smile.

feyre's eyes were filled with tears at your gesture, she couldn't get any words out, so she just nodded and then opened the box.

a soft and sweet melodie reached her ears, and feyre immediately recognized the sound.

it was the music that rhys showed her that night on the cell under the mountain — the music that saved her life.

feyre closed the box and launched for you, involving you in a tight embrace, one that you didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

she still didn't have any words, so she said the only thing she could at the moment. "thank you," she squeezed you even more, "thank you so much." 

you held her for a few more seconds before letting go.

you grabbed her free hand and said, "mor and I are going shopping this afternoon. why don't you come with us? i'd love to get to know you more."

"yes. i'd love that, too. thank you." feyre answered, her voice trembling a little at the emotions she was still feeling.

you squeezed her hand one last time before releasing and moved to stand next to azriel. 

rhys approached feyre. "so, how did it go?"

feyre could only smile, "amazing. she's amazing. you and cassian raised her well."

rhys chuckled, "thank you, but we can't take all the credit. that's just how she is."

rhys nudged her with his shoulder, "i told you, you had nothing to worry about." 

feyre smiled and squeezed the box that she still held. "yeah, you were right."

he was indeed right. you were sweet, kind and funny.

feyre noticed when she first walked into the room, how comfortable and relaxed everyone seemed around you.

how little of an effort you had to make in order to make them laugh or smile, how the air was lighter and brighter, and how you illuminated the room just by your presence.

they fell in a comfortable silence. feyre looked forward, and that's when she saw it. 

she couldn't believe it at first.

she blinked her eyes a couple of times to make sure it was real and it was.

feyre remembers mor telling her about azriel.

how he is more quiet, reserved, discret, and colder than the rest of them.

always with a stoic and indifference in his face and a rigid composure and she even saw that azriel in the last days since she arrived in velaris.

but that's not the azriel that is standing just a few feet away from her.

no, this is a different azriel.

his shoulders are relaxed, there's a bright smile on his face, a softness in his eyes and his arm is around your waist with his hand resting on your hip, holding you close to him while he's looking at you talking about your last days in the winter court.

this is not the shadowsinger or the spymaster.

this is azriel — just azriel.

the shadows are dancing around your feet and ankles, like they are happy too for your return, happy that you are safe and back to their master's side.

feyre knows at this moment that you two are not just friends and that there has to be something more going on.

her suspicions were confirmed a few hours later at night when she decided to go to the library for a book so she could practice her reading before going to bed but ended up finding you and azriel instead.

he was sitting on the couch with his hands on your hips while you sat in his lap, straddling his waist, your hands on his hair while you two made out.

and by the way both your cheeks were flushed, feyre knew that you had been kissing each other for a while.

a/n: thank you for reading! i was thinking about mabye making a part about the night the batboys found the reader?

[masterlist]

taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[bunnysbrainrot]

But I’m Better

Kintober prompt: Toys

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Content: explicit sexual scenes, praise kink, guided masturbation, dom/sub (kinda) dynamic, size kink (kinda sorta). No outbreak AU, age gap (Joel is around his mid-40’s, reader is early/mid-20’s).

Summary: When something breaks, you always know who to call. Your dresser is broken, and you’re left hopeless. But what happens when Joel finds something peculiar in your drawer?

A/N: Y’all. I am so pissed right now because i wrote so much on my drive home, and it deleted because of a bad connection. i can’t recall everything i wrote, so i did the best with what i could remember. i hope it’s up to your liking!

“Shit,” you grumble as you stare blankly at the clothes strewn across the floor. The knob of your dresser drawer sat stupidly in your hand, the mangled wood and metal mocking you. It looked completely ruined.

You thought about messaging your dad about the repairs, but chose against it. He was never exactly notorious for making these things simple - it would be a question of ‘So how did this happen?’ or ‘How did you manage to break it?’, and it really wasn’t worth the effort for you.

The knob sat in your hand, the screw that held it in the drawer was bent to the side, and incredibly dull. No surprise there, you thought.

To be fair, it was an old ass dresser, given to you by your grandmother when you were younger. It was weird to think that you’d had this dresser for over twelve years.

You bent over the pile of clothes and hoisted the hefty drawer in line with the empty space, grunting in frustration as you tried to shimmy it in. It was settled haphazardly and tilted backwards. Completely screwed up. You took your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of your mangled dresser, sending it to Joel.

Dresser finally gave out, I guess. Knob fell clean off when I tried to open it

Almost immediately, Joel haha reacted to the image and began to type. He was unlike any other man you’d talked to before. Joel was timely and consistent, and he was always reliable. Even if he didn’t have the time to help, he would instruct you on how to solve an issue, but typically he helped you in person.

As much as you tried to deny it, your feeling for Joel had warped over the past few years. It began as a silly childhood crush - those early days where you and your friends joked about what older men were sexiest. Your friends had given you teasing looks when you mentioned Joel, and even more shocking was how long you’d liked him. It was a simple, harmless, childhood crush.

Until it wasn’t.

You were freshly eighteen and readying yourself for college when the realization hit you. After all those years having crushes on older guys, it would be considered okay. Weird and taboo, sure, but still allowed now that you were legally an adult.

Joel had come to your graduation dinner at the end of senior year. You remembered that night in vivid detail. More particularly, Joel’s presence set your skin ablaze with a new type of anxiety. At long last, you could freely crush on Joel, except that there was now a chance he could like you, too.

That night he’d passed you a small velvet box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. You opened the box to reveal a gold, oval-shaped locket with a simple clasp. Inscribed on the face of the locket were whorled spirals, breaking off as flowers scattered over the gilded surface. Gazing up at Joel, you couldn’t contain your joy as you gave him a quick hug. He briefly wrapped an arm around you, holding you close by the small of your back.

He broke away, smiling proudly at you below him.

“You did a great job, baby girl. You keep that up in college, and you’ll get by just fine.”

You were thankful dessert had arrived in time for you to turn your attention away, hiding your rouged cheeks. Joel probably didn’t remember that night, but you remembered every little thing.

—

You’d done your four years of college and after the endless nights with little to no sleep and hard work, you were finally graduated, and taking a gap year before considering anything further. You worked hard, and didn’t want to burn yourself out with more school immediately.

But now you were back home, and your sights were set on something else. It was a golden opportunity to spend time with Joel - time that you’d lost by being away for so long. Holiday visits and summer break was hardly generous enough to give you any alone time with Joel. You left for college as a timid girl, developed yourself as a whole, and came back a woman. A woman who knew herself and her wants.

And you wanted him, ached for him in a way you could neither define nor justify. He was almost twice your age, a wholly developed man with his own complex past and unsteady dating life.

Mr. Miller.

He had lived in the next neighborhood over for as long as you could remember. He and your dad met about ten years back at a ‘work thing’, as they described it.

Joel was kind and endlessly generous when it came to helping others. He was the first call when something broke, and the best person to have over when times were tough, despite his sometimes-rugged personality.

You’d gotten back in town over a week ago, and since then you’d seen Joel a few times, mostly to ‘inspect’ the furniture in your room - if anything had worn down over time and needed to be replaced, the whole nine. The both of you knew it was some bullshit excuse to see him at work, with those corded muscles flexing under his tanned skin, sending shivers down your spine.

That day, the two of you had enough bravery in you to flirt. It started out lightly, you gave more emphasis on Mr. Miller, until Joel requested you call him by his first name.

“Makin’ me feel like an old man, darlin’,” he teased. You remember how he sounded saying it, with a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

Before he’d left he’d held you by the waist, staring a little too closely at your face, watching your eyes grow wide when he leaned toward you. He fixed your hair with a gentle hand, said your name, and trailed off, his eyes never leaving your lips.

He refused to kiss you that time. Though the time after that you’d decided to break the boundary, drinking him in like someone dying of thirst. You memorized his scent, the softness of his skin and rough, eager hands across your chest, between your thighs, your throat. You both had been greedy that night. It was a high that coursed through your senses. You needed him, more than you led on.

I’ll get my toolbox, looks like it could be some old hardware. Be over in 10.

You picked up around your room in the meantime, your heart fluttering in your ribcage with each passing second. The room had become stiflingly hot. Suffocating.

A knock at your bedroom door startled you out of your anxious stupor. You reached for the door and now faced a smug Joel Miller in the doorway.

“I could’ve met you at the front door, you know,” you chastised him playfully. Joel shifted his weight of his feet, pulling something from his pocket.

“Helps that I have a house key. Means I can help you even faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned on your heels without a word, striding toward your broken dresser. Joel followed casually, craning his head to look around your room, at the decorations that covered the walls and ceiling. This was no longer the bedroom of a the kid he’d met all those years ago. No, you were fully your own woman now.

“Yup, the screw’s shot to shit,” he muttered, holding out the drawer’s knob to you. “See the end of it? Shouldn’t be that dull - gotta have it replaced every now and then.”

“Do you have the right screw for it?”

He nodded, popping open his toolbox and assessing the different screws in each compartment. His hands flexed with each movement, the veins branching across them shifted with every twitch and roll of his thick fingers. Your legs clenched while the most intrusive thoughts filled your head. Specifically those hands, and what you could imagine them doing to you.

Procuring the right screw, Joel handed it to you. You looked at him in innocent confusion.

God, those eyes. If he had the chance, Joel would look into them all day, to let himself get swallowed whole by their beauty. And when you looked at him all pretty like that, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him, it drove him wild. You knew exactly what you were doing when you’d flirt with Joel, but couldn’t gauge his reciprocation, or if he was even okay with the weird ‘relationship’ you had.

It had been confusing for long enough. Someone needed to make a move, and Joel wasn’t sure if you had it in you to do it. Neither were you.

“I wanna see you try it for yourself,” he explained.

“If it’s so easy, why can’t you do it?” you quipped with a smile, but still taking the knob in your hands. Joel gave no reply and waited patiently for you to back down and do it yourself.

It was far easier than you thought. You handed it back to Joel with a proud smile. His eyes thoughtfully scanned your face before finding home in your eyes.

“Smart girl. I knew you could do it.”

Heat rushed across your cheeks like a harsh sunburn, completely taken over by the brightness in his honeyed tone and brown eyes. Joel laughed at your reaction before he worked on the drawer knob, fiddling it into place. His hands rummaged through your drawer as he worked, and paid no mind to the clothes, though you just realized. This was your underwear drawer - full of lacy underwear, bras of all varieties, and one final item you prayed you hid well enough.

Joel’s hands pushed through your panties as you held your breath. After the drawer had fallen out you’d lazily threwn everything back in the drawer and paid no mind to its organization. Since it wasn’t on the bed or the floor, by accident, you were certain that Joel would cross paths with a toy of yours.

He struck something solid amidst the clothes. The material was solid and heavy, with a bit of give from the silicone. At that moment, he could’ve left it ignored, but there was no fun in that, he thought. Joel gripped the dildo at the base, pulling out of the tangle of clothes and handed it to you, flashing you with a smirk.

“You should find a better place for this,” he drawled. “Never know who could find it.”

You quickly grabbed it from him and scanned your room for another hiding spot, but nothing came to mind. Instead you plopped it back in the drawer, on the opposite side.

“Most people don’t get to go through my underwear, so you can’t give me shit for that,” you grumbled. Joel stood, groaning at the strain on his joints. You giggle at the noise, and gave him your usual teasing, “Old man.”

Ignoring your jab, Joel leaned against the chest of drawers, arms crossed over his chest in a stare down.

His voice was dark. It had become devious, knowing, and more stern than you’d imagined.

“You use it on yourself?”

You choked on your spit harshly, not expecting his question to be so direct. Joel placed a wide hand between your shoulder blades and gave you a pat, coaxing you back to normal.

“Joel,” you pant, catching your breath, “you can’t just- just ask me that.”

“And you wouldn’t be curious if the roles were reversed, I’m sure,” he said coolly.

The redness had returned to your cheeks while you debated on your answer, but your hesitation told Joel everything he needed to know. In the smallest way, you’d let it slip that you imagine him in your free time, not that it wasn’t the same case for him. If anything, it’d been worse. Every text you’d sent him set him ablaze; at night he thought about you in detail and palmed himself through his pants, or pumped his cock in a fervent hand as he thought of you, squeezing himself inside your tight pussy. Countless nights he’d stained himself with his own seed, wishing it was inside of you instead, where it belongs. That toy should be him, it always should’ve been.

“Do you?”

You huffed and turned away from him, striding toward the bed to adjust your pillows - any sort of casual distraction from the question.

“Why do you want to know?” you countered.

Joel’s hands brushed against your hips from behind, his feather-soft fingertips brushing across the skin above your jeans. You drew in a breath as Joel whispered next to your ear.

“Because I’m a selfish old bastard, and I’m wondering what it looks like.”

“What what looks like?” you ask softly. You knew precisely what he meant but you wanted to hear something from him anyway.

He burrowed his head at the crook of your neck, gently kissing your skin up to the soft spot below your ear. His breath flew over your skin hot and heavy, sending a new wave of heat to your core.

“I want to see your face when you’re all filled up. I gotta see what your little pussy looks like when it’s all stretched out.”

You pushed your hips back flush with his to find a growing bulge trapped in his jeans. Joel rolled his hips into your ass, groaning at the constraint of the rough denim.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He mumbled against your neck, “What is it baby girl?”

Shoving your ass against his crotch, you whined, “I need you. Please… need you so badly.”

His hum rumbled against your skin, sending goosebumps rolling across your arms. A hand wound up to your hair and tugged a good handful back toward him. You gazed up at him with those beautiful glossed over eyes he dreamed about. He pictured this look on your face for a few years now, and he finally had the joy of seeing it, of causing it himself.

“Not givin’ it to you yet, baby,” he tugged once more on your hair when you whined in protest, “Gonna try something different first.”

In one movement you were facing him, finding two dark eyes staring you down, pupils both blown in lust. Joel gripped the back of your head carefully now, cradling you like something precious, something coveted. This was exactly how he saw you. You were someone to protect and take care of, and now it’s shifted to something far more intimate. Joel vowed to himself that he would make you feel every ounce of pleasure you’d been missing out on. All those nights where his hand replaced your pussy built up a frustration only you could truly fix.

Joel crashed his mouth to yours, as he’d done twice before this, and the kiss sent the same heat through your body. You clenched your thighs in a pitiful attempt to gain pressure against your swollen clit, nestled sweetly between your soft folds, soaking your underwear with your slick.

He pressed you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. The kiss was no short of pure ecstasy. The way his stubble scratched against your cheeks, the way his breathing grew heavy when you bit at his lower lip, the way his tongue edged into your mouth to explore every inch.

You gasped when Joel pulled away, watching him step to your dresser and draw out the dildo you’d hidden back inside. He turned to you with the toy in hand, wobbling slightly in his grip.

“‘S a pretty big one, sweetheart, you actually use all of it?” his voice was far too casual for a man holding your dildo.

You offer him half a nod, “Kind of. I’ve been trying to get… all the way in.” Joel assessed your words before he joined you on the bed, holding the toy against your stomach, at the base of your pelvis. He let out a low whistle when he saw where the toy’s length ended at your tummy, past your bellybutton.

“All of that inside you… felt pretty daring getting one so big, huh?”

That wasn’t the case and it was the most embarrassing part. The truth is, you chose the size based on your image of Joel. You didn’t even know how endowed he was, but you let your fantasy of him take over. That, and the time your hand brushed against his erection during your last kiss.

“I wanted to see if it would feel like you,” you admitted.

Joel’s eyes crinkled with his laugh, “Darlin’, a toy don’t compare to the real thing. Not really.”

You jabbed his arm at his teasing, “Listen, I’m doing the best with what I got, okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the best you could get, now is it?” he purred, pushing forward to plant a kiss on your neck. You shook your head, knowing he was exactly right. The toy would never really feel like the real thing.

You glanced up at him with a nervous expression, furrowing your brows, “What did you want to do?”

Joel looked at you coolly and leaned back onto his elbows. He eyed you, then the toy in his hand, then back to you.

“You gonna make it fit - take it all the way - and I’m gonna help.”

Crimson shaded your cheeks at the thought, staring nervously at the toy. Surely you were wet enough to take it, but the action of pushing further, to get it in completely, had been a challenge. In hopes to boost your bravery, you hunched over him, kissing him harshly as your hands flew to your pants. You fumbled with the waistband and slid them off of you, until you were stark naked, laid and bare before Mr. Miller.

He simply drank you in as you sat nervously in the lamplight. Joel eyed you darkly, his eyes raking from your quivering thighs, your slightly hidden sex - masked by your censoring hands, to your perk nipples atop each soft breast, and to your face, eyes half-lidded in pleasure adjoined with your soft panting.

“Jesus.”

You ducked your head sheepishly, shaking slightly to decline the compliment. Joel looked you over fondly as his hand found your cheek, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. You glanced down at him, still giving you that goofy smirk and a excited glint in his eye.

Joel kept eye contact as his hand traveled down your body - through the valley between your breasts, down your tummy, to just above your slit, daringly close to dipping between your wet folds. You pushed yourself into your knees and knelt at his side, your aching cunt exposed to him in the dimly lit room.

He trailed his hand up each thigh, halting just before he reached your pussy. Each touch was carefully light in a way that made your whole body shudder against him. A single finger slithered up your thigh once again, finally finding its way through your slit, nestling comfortably against your clit and drawing lazy circles.

You cried out against a hand held at your mouth. Joel’s hand smelled of metal and bourbon, mixed with pine and lemongrass. He smelled smoky and fresh and completely warm against your face. You bestowed your face into his palm as he gained a rhythm on your clit, drawing out the smallest cries against his skin.

“Nice and wet for me already, darlin’, that’s good… that’s such a good girl. Drippin’ and ready.”

Another dumb nod has him chuckling while his finger skirted lightly across your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until your stomach grew tighter.

“Gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me already?” His comment draws another moan from you, falling like a melody past your bitten lips, a chorus straight from heaven, just for Joel.

“It’s okay, baby doll, go ‘head. Cum for daddy,” he said sweetly, the Southern drawl thick through his words.

You unravel around him, jolting your hips as your orgasm takes over your senses. A soft cry sounds through your gritted teeth; you gently grind your hips onto the pad of his finger to ride through the shockwaves. Joel leans up to kiss your shoulder, his lips warm and supple.

“Just as beautiful as I imagined,” whispered Joel. His tongue skirts along your skin to your neck, fully sitting beside you to bore his eyes into yours.

You glanced back at him with lust-blow pupils, steadying your breath as his hand slowed its tempo. Joel gave you a lazy smile, the lamplight catching the salt-and-pepper hairs of his scruff in a soft display of his rugged features.

“Can,” you started, “you be… inside me?”

Joel’s hands found your hips and gripped snugly. The look in his eyes was nothing short of affectionate. Even still, he shook his head.

“Not tonight darlin’,” he replies, “I want you to show me how you look using this-“ he points to the dildo on his opposite side, waiting. “Since you think a toy could be so much better than me-“

“That’s not it at all,” you protest, “I needed something, Joel.”

He holds up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, “You could’ve asked me, but ya didn’t, did ya?”

You gave him a scowl, “I didn’t think this would happen, Joel.”

Ever since you hit eighteen, he wanted you to practice calling him by his first name purely out of comfortability, and since you’d grown up, it seemed more fitting.

He doesn’t reply, but his smirk grows when he brings the dildo over to you, sitting between your thighs. It was embarrassing enough with how little of the toy you could handle this far, and to do it in front of Joel seemed doubly humiliating.

Joel gives your ass a small smack to lift you up. You rise, letting him set the toy between your thighs and beneath your throbbing entrance. He cleared his throat, daring your attention back to him.

“Go at your own pace, but get it all in, sweet girl.”

All thought had left you - your only reply being in an eager nod. You started off slowly, notching the toy in at your tight hole, and slowly bounced yourself along its length. Your legs shook with each movement as you filled yourself more and more, every gyration sent shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

It took a few moments to ease yourself fully, now bouncing on the dildo’s length until it became glossy with your slick. Joel eyed you affectionately. Your face twisted in ways he couldn’t imagine, and your cunt wrapped around the toy in ways he could only dream of.

Joel patted your thigh as you bottomed out at the hilt of the toy. He pawed at your hips, kneading at the tender flesh of your ass, and pulled you into a grinding motion, setting the dildo ever deeper into your cunt. It struck a new spot deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix. A low moan fell from you as you moved your hips absentmindedly, solely following Joel’s command.

The tightness in your stomach only grew as his praises flowed through your head.

“Such an obedient lil’ thing.”

“That’s a dirty girl, gettin’ all needy like that. Wishin’ it was me in your sweet pussy, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fill you right now, baby doll.”

You mewled softly as another orgasm crashed through you, your hips sputtering as you ground onto the toy. Joel’s hands caressed you through your high, though he didn’t stop tugging your hips. He beamed lazily when you cried his name once again, shuddering around the toy nestled inside of you.

“Attagirl,” whispered Joel, “so fuckin’ beautiful..”

You shook your head at him like before, but he showed no signs of backing down from his stance. Joel peppered your thighs with kisses and he lifted you off the toy, listening to your whines as you were left feeling empty. His cock twitched in his jeans, eager to play.

But not yet. He needed to see this first.

“How was that, sweet girl?”

A beat of silence said every unspoken thing you’d come up with. It was good, but not mind-boggling. Not the ‘fucked til you’re dumb’ pleasure you’d expected from tonight.

Joel patted your ass, “That’s the thing. Toys… they feel nice. But-“ He plants a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, grazing over the swollen skin.

“I’m better.”

The next few minutes consisted of cleaning after yourself and settling back into your clothes. Joel fixed your hair neatly before looking you over.

“Cant stay long tonight, darlin’, gotta get back home.”

You sighed dramatically at him, to which he scoffed away the gesture. On his way out, he gave you a far more longing look - a loving, thoughtful gaze that told you one thing.

You were his. Completely and wholly. It was clear he saw you differently now, as you did him.

Joel fucking Miller.

MDNI spacer is by cafekitsune!

hi everyone! thank you for so much incredible support on this fic!

Just FYI: Blood Flow, and Daddy’s Girl are now up as parts 2 and 3! have fun, lovelies

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

The Man in the Mirror

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: When a bad nightmare leads to you finding Bucky in the bathroom with a pair of scissors in his hand, you offer to help him recognize himself in the mirror

Warnings: fluff and angst, Hurt/Comfort, haircuts, facial shaving, gratuitous use of pet names, Bucky’s trauma, HYDRA abuse/torture, mentions of blood, mentions of… forced haircuts I guess? I dunno if that’s a warning but there it is

A/N: I think we as a society need more “Bucky gets a haircut” fanfic in the world, so here’s my 2 cents

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

It was the scream that woke you up

You groggily reached your hand out to the other side of the bed, searching for Bucky’s warmth

 But it was  empty

You noticed the bathroom light was on, and had knocked on the door, calling out to him

When he didn’t respond, you had decided to let yourself in

“Baby, I’m gonna open the door, okay?” You called softly before opening the door.

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected to walk in on.

But a shattered bathroom mirror and your boyfriend leaned over the bathroom counter, his Vibranium hand gripping the marble, something clenched in his other was not one of them

“Oh my God, Bucky!” You quickly grabbed your slippers and slid them on, rushing to his side, “what happened?”

 You grabbed his right hand, removing what you now saw to be a pair of scissors as gently as possible

“Are you okay?” You began to search his body for injury, “Honey, what happened?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

His glassy eyes met yours, looking at you but not really seeing youYou took his face in both hands, leaning your forehead against his and gently stroking his cheekbones

“It’s alright, Baby,” you cooed, brushing his hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear, “it’s okay, Bucky, you're safe, Sweet Boy…” 

His breathing slowly started to even out as you continued to hush him, slowly starting to come back to you.

 “Doll?” He asked in a quiet, broken voice that broke your heart.

 “I'm here, Honey,” you wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head against your shoulder, “I'm here, it's okay…” 

He’d sobbed into your neck as you held him, rocking him back and forth and rubbing his back

“It’s alright Sweetheart,” you’d cooed, pressing little kisses against his temple, “you’re alright, it’s okay…”

When he’d finally calmed down, Bucky told you about the nightmare that had sent him into this spiral, the vivid flashbacks of HYDRA’s torture

“It felt so fucking real, Doll.” Bucky’s voice shook. You hugged him a little closer, “they had these…taser things. Cattle prods, really. They– they would jam them into my sides for hours. And I swear I could feel it. When they decided they'd had their fun I felt them grab me by the hair and start dragging me, they used to do that a lot. I woke up before they could toss me into the Chair.”

“Oh… oh, Bucky,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, “oh, baby…”

“I tried not to think about it,” he whimpered, “I just went to go splash some water on my face, but when I looked in the mirror all I could see was the Soldier and I couldn't take it.”

He motioned to the scissors, “I tried to take care of it myself, but I couldn't stop fucking shaking.”

You hugged him close, “oh, Baby. I’m sorry…”

 “I just… I can’t keep my hair like this,” he said, hiding his face your neck, “I can’t keep seeing the Soldier every time I look in the fucking mirror.”

 “I know, Baby, I know,” you told him, “how about this, help me clean up the glass, and then I’ll cut your hair after, okay?”

 “I think I want to shave too,” Bucky replied, “could you…?”

“Of course, Honey.” 

Cleaning up the glass was quick, so you sent him to get the kitchen ready while you grabbed the supplies

 You found him in the kitchen, seated in a chair and twiddling his thumbs You kissed his cheek and draped an old towel around his shoulders, setting down the things in your hands. 

“I thought I could start by putting it in a ponytail and cutting the length off,” you explained, “then maybe trim the top and then clean it up with the clippers. Does that sound good?”

 He nodded, and you began to comb your fingers through his long locks, gathering it up to put in a hair tie. He hummed at the feeling of your hands in his hair. 

“Did I ever tell you about my first few decades at HYDRA?” Bucky asked as you finished the ponytail, his eyes not meeting yours.

 You shook your head, confused.

 “They shaved my head for a long time. Sanitary reasons. I didn’t really get a lot of chances to shower. It’s easier to keep your hair clean if you don’t have any,” his blue eyes focused on the ground, “I guess it was for medical reasons too. They always had things stuck on my head in the early days.”

Bucky took a deep, shaky breath.

“I hated it. They would always cut it before tossing me in the Chair,” he continued, “it felt like I was being fucking scalped. They had to hold me down, I fought them every time. ”

You wrapped him in a tight hug, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been letting my hair grow out because I couldn’t stand the idea of that again,” he murmured into your shirt, “bad memories and all.”

“I won’t hurt you,” you promised him, “I won’t ever hurt you. I promise Buck, you’re safe here.” 

“I know, Doll. I know,” Bucky took a deep breath,“we should get started. Before I lose my nerve.”

You nodded, straightening up and grabbing the scissors, “can I make the first cut?”

“Yeah,” he straightened up in the chair a bit, “Go ahead.”

He sucked in a breath as you carefully snipped off the chocolate colored ponytail, holding it out for him to see once it was off

“Good job, Sweetheart.” You smiled, “first cut’s done. Do you want to keep going?”

Bucky stared wide eyed at what you’d cut off, “I didn’t realize it had gotten this long… Uh, yeah. You can keep going.”

 You hummed and continued.

He was doing so good, keeping so still for you as you worked. 

“You’re doing so well, Honey. I’m so proud of you,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m gonna use the clippers now, is that alright?”

 Bucky nodded, closing his eyes and resting his head against your stomach

He flinched away hard when he heard the clippers buzz on, despite your warning about the noise.

 When HYDRA had shaved him they’d used manual clippers, raking them along his skull with little care. 

It felt foolish, but on some level he’d forgotten those weren’t the standard anymore. 

You switched the device off immediately and rubbed his shoulder, trying to give him what little comfort you could

“You okay?”You asked, “talk to me, Bucky-Baby.”

“The…the…” he stammered, shifting on the seat, unable to articulate what was in his head.

That the buzzing was loud in his ears, bringing him back to a hand dragging him towards a room he knew too well, to metal clamping down on either side of his face and screaming as his mind was torn away from him. 

“The buzzing,” he finally forced out, “The Chair…”

You nodded, understanding.

 “You’re not back there,” you whispered, stepping in front of him and holding his face with both hands, “you’re home with me. I won’t hurt you, I won’t let anyone hurt you, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“I know, I know you won’t,” he assured you, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down, “just… just do it. I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m ready, I’m okay.”

You kept a hand on his shoulder, “okay Baby. Deep breath, okay?”

He obeyed, and you kept your free hand on him as you carefully cut away his soft hair.

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Boy,” you cooed as you gently trimmed his sideburns, Bucky tensing at how loud the buzzing was, “it’s alright, you’re alright…” 

You switched off the clippers once you’d finished, running your fingers through his shorn locks, loose bits of hair falling down his back and onto the tile.

 “There we go,” you stood in front of him, holding his face, “your hair is all done, Sweetheart. Do you still want to shave?” 

He nodded, and you grabbed his shaving cream.

You sat down on his lap and Bucky instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist

 You began to carefully rub the cream onto his face, planting a little peck to the tip of his nose, earning you a little smile.

 Once his face was sufficiently lathered, you grabbed his razor and smiled softly

“Ready?” You asked.

He nodded, and you began to carefully shave his face. 

Bucky was shocked by how gentle you were with him, moving his face as you needed with only the tips of your fingers and pressing little kisses to each patch of smooth skin that was revealed

Once you were done, you gently patted his face dry with a towel and applying his aftershave.

“Very handsome, Sweetheart.” You smiled, gently tilting his face from side to side, inspecting your work.

“You really think so?” Bucky asked with anxious eyes. 

“Of course I think so. Why don’t you take a look?”

The mirror is still broken so you held your phone up with the camera opening, allowing him to see himself.

You watched him examine his new look

 He chewed his lip, staring at the short hair, the clean-shaven face.

“What do you see, Buck?” You asked, his silence making you nervous.

“I… I see me…” his right hand reached up and touched his own cheek, “I see me…”

You smiled softly, cupping his face and lightly stroking his smooth skin, “you look so good, baby.” 

Bucky hugged you tightly to him, and you leaned your head against his collarbone.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, “thank you so much.”

“Any time, Buck.” You stood up, taking his hand, “c’mon, Honey, why don’t we get you some rest?”

 “But what about the mess?”

“It’ll still be there in the morning.”

You guided him back to your bed and pulled him into your arms, his head on your chest.

 You ran your fingers through his hair, so much shorter but still just as soft.

Bucky smiled softly up at you, and you cupped his cheek 

“I’ll miss the beard a bit, I’ll be honest,” you murmured, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“Thought you might,” Bucky chuckled, remembering how often you touched his scruffy cheeks, “maybe I’ll let some stubble grow in, give you something to run your hand over.”

“I’ll love you no matter what you do. You’ll always be the most handsome man in the room to me,” you kissed his lips softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered when you pulled back, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles, “for helping me look like me again.” 

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he settled back down in your arms.

“Of course, Bucky.”

A/N: this guy might get pulled and edited/rewritten at some point. I'm not sure how I feel about it quite yet, I feel like there's a lot unnecessary stuff in here. I dunno, we'll see what the reception is. I hope you enjoyed 💜💙

[nayedoll]

Baby came home

joost klein x fem!reader

rpf below, pls don’t read if you’re uncomfortable!!!

read part 2 here

summary: reader and joost used to be together but broke up. four years later they meet again, having realized their mistakes.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut (blowjob, unprotected p in v), angsty

word count: 6k

a/n: this is kiiiiind of based on the songs ‘baby came home’ and ‘baby came home 2/ valentines’ by the nbhd fyi if u want to listen to them!! also im sorry that im yapping sm in the first paragraphs i promise joost is gonna show up lol🥲. anyways enjoy!!!!!!

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You enter the bathroom, the deafening music from the club reducing to a muffled sound as the door behind you closes. Your hand immediately reaches for the sink and you look up to see your blurry reflection in the mirror. The dark red tint of your lipstick has faded by now and your eyes look tired under the bathroom lighting, lightly smudged with mascara.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut in order to get ahold of yourself. The floor underneath you is vibrating with the sound of the loud bass, mirroring the quick rhythm of your heartbeat as you open your eyes again, meeting your distressed gaze in the mirror. You feel lost, unable to recognize yourself under the layers of makeup as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. You expected it to be another long night of partying with your coworkers, the group of you sat in the fancy vip sofas as always, drinking champagne and gossiping. You never really liked them or their snobbish attitude, the only reason you always agreed to go out with them being your job — a stylist for one of New York’s biggest fashion magazines.

You had always wanted to be involved in fashion so naturally when you got the opportunity to work for such a prestigious magazine two years ago, you accepted every part of the job, the good and the bad. It was sort of an unspoken rule; if you wanted to go higher, you’d have to make compromises — and for you that compromise was to tolerate all the rich elites you worked with, pretend to be one of them.

You thought your plan had been working, especially with how your boss was treating you lately, even promising to give you the promotion you so badly wanted and deserved.

So naturally, when she announced another person as the art director today, you couldn’t help but protest, ask for an explanation from your boss who called you crazy in her usual patronizing tone. With the help of alcohol in your system, the complaints soon turned into a heated argument as you resigned, left the table and ended up… here.

Maybe I should have never left the Netherlands; this is the only thought going through your mind right now as you let out one last shaky breath and your tears gradually come to a stop, leaving a reddish blush on your cheeks as a confirmation that you have been crying. You slightly fix your makeup, clearing the smudged mascara under your eyes before leaving the bathroom.

The music gets progressively louder as you re-enter the large venue filled by people dancing.

You glance at the vip section one last time, easily spotting the people you unfortunately know so well, dressed in expensive designer clothes. They are chatting and laughing as if nothing has happened, the same fake smiles lingering on their faces. You scoff to yourself, all those years of working together and not one of them cares enough to check on you.

You don’t bother to stay any longer and make a turn for the exit door, as the music from the club gradually fades.

The familiar security guard opens the door for you and you smile subtly at him for what you hope will be the last time.

The air is cold and humid against your hot body, causing you to wince as you put on your lightweight jacket that doesn’t do much to warm you up.

You look around you, blinded by the vibrant lights reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings and restaurants. Despite how late it is, the city is still as busy as ever with numerous people walking by, going from club to club and the loud music from cars is booming at every corner.

You decide to rest on a wall a few meters away, seeing as your ride home was one of your coworkers but that scenario doesn’t seem very likely anymore.

You pull out a cigarette from your purse and your trembling fingers rush to light it, desperate to feel the addictive burn in your throat.

For the first time in a long while, you suddenly feel better, relieved as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It almost feels liberating to not work at that place anymore, knowing you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, that this may be your chance to escape the toxic environment you’ve been living in and find your old self back.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you instinctively whip your head to the direction you heard it come from, then pause. In front of you, is standing Joost.

Joost as in your ex boyfriend from the Netherlands.

You met him shortly after having moved to the country because of your dad’s job, both of you being just 17 without the experience of any previous partners and big feelings. It didn’t take long before you got into a relationship, the newfound passion of a first love quickly drawing you closer together and taking over your minds. It was the first time in your life that you had such strong feelings for someone, especially someone you had known for so little at that. You really thought you had found the perfect man, the one you would someday marry and start a life with, no matter the hardships.

But as time passed, the problems soon began to emerge in your relationship. The main issue lied with the fact that you both didn’t exactly know how to convey your feelings and emotions to one another; Joost opted to ignore them and move on, whereas you often came off as controlling and selfish in an attempt to show him just how much you cared.

You loved each other a lot — and you both knew that — but inevitably you broke up with him in the heat of an argument, the biggest one you’d had yet. In the following month, you barely talked and it was then that you made the impulsive decision to move back to New York, finding no reason in staying in Amsterdam anymore. You didn’t tell Joost but he found out eventually, leading to another big argument just one day before your flight and then another month of no contact.

At last, you did talk things through, him calling to apologize and try to make things right again as you cried over the phone because you knew it was too late for either of you to make up for all the problems.

It’s been 4 years since then in which you kept some sort of communication, mostly on your birthdays and on holidays or when he replied to your story sometimes and vice versa.

You stare up at him in shock. “Joost?” You blurt out, blinking repeatedly as if to make sure he is actually here.

He smiles, his dimples bringing back a bundle of memories and you get chills just at that.

“Hey,” He pulls you into a hug which you reluctantly return, careful to not burn him with your cigarette as you linger in his arms a moment longer, taking in the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with what seems to be cigarettes.

“How have you been?” You ask, eyeing him up and down.

He looks slightly different, having grown into his face through the years. His hair is still the same shade of blonde, though grown out as it sticks out under his hat and you notice the small trimmed mustache on his face. He’s just about the same height, maybe slightly taller as he towers over you even with your heels on.

“Good, everything’s good I guess,”

“Yeah? I heard your album did well last year,” Albino; It had popped up on your feed a few times but you hadn’t looked into it too much, in fear of undoing all your efforts to get over Joost.

“Are you stalking me?” His question coaxes a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes at him.

“Get over yourself,” You say playfully, “I saw Tantu post about it on Instagram,”

Joost grins and nods as a response. “How have you been?” He redirects your initial question to you.

You take a moment to respond as you awkwardly look away from him. If you were to be honest with him, you’d say you’re basically all alone, crying and second guessing yourself on the daily — also without a job from now on — but you find that it may be too direct of an answer for the situation.

Instead you say, “Not too bad either,” giving him a weak smile.

“Still in fashion?” He asks, his words unknowingly sting but you try your best to look okay.

“Mhm,” You nod, “I uh- I work for a fashion magazine,” Or maybe worked would be a better word, you think to yourself.

“That’s awesome,”

“I guess so,” You can’t help but let a sigh fall from your lips, hinting at the insincerity of your words. Joost senses it because he furrows his eyebrows at you as if to ask you what’s wrong but you don’t let him.

“Want a cigarette?” You hold out your pack of cigarettes that’s almost empty, in hopes of changing the subject. Joost gets the message and takes a cigarette from the package, deciding not to bother you with any more questions. Besides, it isn’t exactly his business after so many years of barely any contact.

You light the cigarette that hangs from his lips as your eyes meet over the small orange flame and you stay silent, watching as he takes a long drag.

“By the way,” You utter “Why are you in New York?” Maybe it’s a dumb question as obviously a trip would be the reason, but frankly you’re more curious about who he is here with.

Joost goes on to explain, “Me and my friends booked this trip a while ago,” He exhales a thick plume of smoke.

“I don’t see anyone here,” You look around, searching for the familiar faces of his friends.

“They’re sitting at that bar over there,” He nods to the small building that is just a few meters away, the one you have passed by countless times after leaving the club. “I just came out here to make a few calls,” He adds.

“To your girlfriend?” You can’t help but ask him, the drinks you had earlier playing a part in your bluntness. You’re not drunk but definitely intoxicated enough to not feel embarrassed, especially when you see how Joost’s face lights up at your question.

“Nee, I don’t have one,” He gives you a cheeky smile, “Why? Are you curious?”

You shake your head, looking down to the concrete ground, “No, just… asking,” Your voice is weak as you shy away from your words.

“Alright,” You hear him chuckle, it makes you smile too for some reason.

“But I’m sure you have a boyfriend,” He says causing you to look back at him in confusion, “He must be waiting for you inside that club,” He points to the same building you were in just a few minutes ago.

“Where did you get that from?” You laugh in between your words, making it clear you do not in fact have a boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs his shoulders, smiling down at you. “You’re pretty, why wouldn’t you have a boyfriend?” You bite the inside of your mouth, fighting back a smile but Joost sees you, secretly enjoying the effect his words still have on you.

“Haven’t found the right one yet,” Both of you know that’s not true. You had found the right one, in fact he’s standing right next to you but you both just had to ruin everything.

Joost knows you don’t mean that, but still, the thought that you have moved on from him stings even though it’s normal all these years later. He has matured, you both have and he often thinks how things would turn out if you got back together again, right now.

His silence doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you put out your cigarette with the sole of your shoe and turn to fully face him.

“Anyways,” You sigh, “I was going to leave soon,”

“Oh,” Joost takes one last puff of smoke before also putting out the cigarette on the ground, then he looks at you again. “Ja, I should probably head back inside too,” He says but none of you make a move that indicates you’re leaving.

You don’t want to say goodbye and possibly never see him again, knowing that once he’s gone you’ll sink back into the misery of your life. He’s currently the only person you feel comfortable talking to and you don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.

You say, “Joost?” Your voice soft and quiet.

“What?” He gives you a sweet smile.

“Do you want to… come to my place?” You’re reluctant in your words, trying not to make them sound suggestive because really, they aren’t.

“Sure,” He smiles, not having to think about it for long which leaves you satisfied. “I’ll just call Appie to let him know,” He adds, pulling out his phone.

You wait for him to end the call as Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, presumably because the music from the bar is too loud for Apson to hear. Your Dutch isn’t the best but you manage to make out most of what Joost is saying, catching your name in between sentences. You hear Apson yell something on the other line which makes Joost giggle and mumble shut up as you give him a weird look.

He hangs up the phone, “Should we go?” He asks, you nod as you walk with him to a taxi down the road and usher him inside.

The ride is quite long, given the inevitable city traffic as you pass by more tall buildings that are sparkling with light. You’re sitting next to Joost in the backseat as your shoulders lightly bump into one another every time the driver makes an abrupt turn. Joost whispers little jokes to you every now and then, making you laugh with his humor that has not changed one bit. It fills your heart with warmth, reminds you of the old times. You keep glancing at him as he looks out the window and the lights illuminate his face beautifully, bringing out the beauty mark under his lips or how blue his eyes really are. He catches you staring a few times, smiling to himself at your poor attempt to hide it and the pattern repeats itself until you reach your apartment complex.

Joost thanks the driver, quickly closing the car door behind him to catch up with you as you’re already at the old-looking entrance door of the building, unlocking it.

“Quick, quick!” You giggle as he jogs to you in his usual silly manner and you let him in.

You take the elevator and on the way up you lightly hold his hand, bringing it closer to see the tattoos on his knuckles.

He chuckles to himself, “You like them?”

“Mhm,” You nod, letting your thumb lightly graze his digits. Your eyes return to his, he’s much closer now and you feel your heart beating faster than ever with the way he looks down at you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Your faces get closer and closer as you let his hand fall from yours, forgetting all about his tattoo, then ding.

The elevator door opens, revealing the narrow dimly lit hallway your apartment is in and just like that, the moment ends as you both step back from each other and out of the elevator.

You hurry to the end of the cold hallway and unlock the door to your place, ushering Joost inside.

The lights reflecting off of the surrounding buildings come through the big windows of your apartment, illuminating the room with a faint brightness. The space is relatively small and simply decorated, the only luxurious thing about it being the view of the city.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask, already making your way into the kitchen. “There’s wine and tequila,” you say loudly.

“Tequila,” Joost responds quickly, taking off his puffy jacket and leaving it on the coat rack next to the door.

By the time you’re back to the living room, Joost is sat comfortably on the big couch and you notice he’s turned on the lamp next to him which now casts a warm yellow light in the room.

You hand Joost his shot placing the half empty tequila bottle on the table, then sit down next to him, maybe in closer proximity than truly needed.

“Cheers!” He grins as you both down the shots, the feeling of the hard liquor going down your throat momentarily giving you goosebumps. Joost drinks it like it’s water before slamming the glass on the table, a sight that makes you laugh in surprise as you remember how easily he used to get drunk when you first met him.

“I needed this,” You sigh, your words implying how shitty your night — or life in general — has been.

Joost narrows his eyes at you; he had already sensed that you’re not well from your previous implications but now he has to ask. Even after everything he still worries the same amount, hates seeing you unhappy.

“You okay?” You turn to look at him, smiling at his question. You can’t even remember the last time someone asked you that.

“Yeah,” You nod repeatedly in an attempt to convince Joost, not wanting to ruin his night with your seemingly unimportant problems but he sees right through you, his face making it clear he doesn’t believe you. “Or no,” you laugh to loosen the tension, covering your face with your hand in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Joost asks calmly while he caresses the small of your back.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” you mumble, “Sometimes I get the idea that I made the wrong choice returning here,”

You’re looking away from him, not used to oversharing like this. Usually, you would have stopped at the first sentence but the drinks from the club paired with the shot you just had, make it harder for you to shy away from sharing your feelings.

“Like what if I’m not good enough at this? Maybe this life isn’t for me after all,” Your voice becomes strained as you fight back tears, this being the first time you express your fears out loud.

“That’s not true,” Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, “You’re great with fashion, you’ve always been great. You even picked my outfits for me sometimes, remember?” He chuckles at his last words, the shared memory making you both giggle as you finally face him again.

Your eyes linger in his and you get the urge to kiss him, realizing that you may want this night to end differently.

He stands up straight in front of you and says, “Here,” smiling widely as you look up at him confused, “Judge my outfit,”

“Judge your outfit?” You repeat his words to him and laugh. Joost nods as he turns around, letting you see the full outfit and posing in between. You’re clearly amused, letting small chuckles slip from your lips every now and then, watching as Joost shows off his clothes one by one.

Your eyes can’t help but fall to his belt as he plays with it, the metallic letters that read Albino glowing in the darkness of the corner he’s standing at. Your body feels warmer at that as a sinister thought flashes through your mind which you quickly shake off.

“Models aren’t allowed to touch their clothes, you know?” You point out sarcastically, mimicking the tone that your boss usually had when she talked to the models.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” He says in a half serious tone as you nod.

“So?” He asks, you’re assuming he’s waiting for you to judge his choice of clothing as you sit up straighter on the couch.

“Well…” You take a coy expression, holding back the smile on your lips, “It could use some changes, with my help,”

“You think?” Joost takes a look at his outfit, not directly understanding the true motivation behind your words. “Like what?”

“Come closer and I’ll show you,” Joost pauses for a second, a smirk grows on his lips as he starts to catch on to what exactly it is that you’re suggesting. He takes a few steps forward, so close to you that your face is practically aligned with his belt as you suck in a deep breath. You don’t really know where you’re going with this but the alcohol in your system doesn’t let you think of your choices thoroughly right now, instead you’re overcome with need, the desire to touch Joost in any way possible.

“I’m all ears,” He says, his voice low and raspy.

You bite back a smile, tugging on the soft material of his t-shirt. “This needs to go,” You say, masking your lust with an innocent voice.

“Do you want to style me or undress me?” Joost raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your intentions.

“I need a clear canvas to work,” You respond coyly and once again pull on his shirt, coaxing him to take it off.

“Fair enough,” Joost pulls the shirt over his head, revealing the blonde hairs on his happy trail. His pants are hanging low on his stomach, making the waistband of his underwear stick out all the more, the letters supreme on it and you shamelessly take in the image of his bare chest.

Joost soon brings his hand to your chin, lifting your head up so that you can see his face clearly. Your body is practically aching with need by now, imagining how his fingers would feel in other parts of your body.

He silently leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You’re initially taken by surprise as it takes a few seconds for you to part your lips before you finally get to feel him against your tongue. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor but you don’t mind, it only serves as a reminder that this is actually happening.

Joost lowers his body, resting one knee on the couch to balance himself as he pushes you back into the big pillows. His lips wander off to your neck, peppering small kisses on it which later turn into gentle bites that are sure to leave marks on your skin.

“Do you like that?” He asks, noticing the small whimpers that escape your mouth. You hum in agreement, feeling yourself grow more wet under his continuous touch.

“It’s been so long,” He mutters in between more kisses distributed evenly across your neck and jaw. You wonder if he has missed this as much as you have, whether he has also been thinking of you every now and then, searching for you in every girl he has met since you left.

At this point you’re eager, unable to keep your composure any longer. You pull him away slightly, ignoring the confused expression on his face as you quickly shove him back against the couch, switching roles with him.

Your knees fall to the wooden floor, you bring both hands to his knees, looking up at him then towards his belt.

“Your pants are next,” You say, in reference to your previous conversation. Joost chuckles, mumbling some curse under his breath, he’s flustered and it’s because of you. He unbuckles his belt impatiently, shifting slightly to pull his pants down as you do the rest for him, tugging on the rough material of his pants to fully take them off.

His legs are also littered with tattoos, similarly to his arms and your fingers instinctively trail up his thigh until they reach his underwear. You can see the outline of his hardened cock as you gently press your palm on top of it, earning a stifled groan from him.

“These can stay on,” You decide to tease him, Joost laughs at that.

“Fuck off,” He says, earning a smile from you.

Gladly, you think to yourself as your fingers play with the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes shift to his face briefly, quietly asking for his consent to which he nods at. With a final pull, his cock springs free from his boxers, reminding you of its big size. The tip is leaky with precum as you lick it, making Joost hiss at the sensation.

You take him in your mouth eagerly until the tip reaches the back of your throat, causing you to wince ever so slightly.

“Easy there,” Joost coos, pushing your hair out of the way for you and keeps it in a gentle grip as you skillfully begin to suck his cock. The way your mouth stretches around him coaxes a mixture of groans and curses to fall from his lips, his hold on your hair tightening. He looks down at you, still in your fancy little dress and on your knees for him, the sight turning him on all the more.

The fact that you’ve gotten so good at this makes him think of all the men you’ve probably been with after him and he can’t help but feel a little jealous at that.

“Like that,” His voice is breathy as he mumbles different kinds of praises to you, sending a rush of heat through your core. He starts guiding your head with gentle force, careful not to hurt you, slowly pushing his cock until it nudges the back of your throat . Your face feels hot and despite Joost’s gentleness, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, most definitely smudging your mascara and the dark eyeshadow on your eyelid.

Joost is close but he doesn’t want to come just yet, opting to come inside of you later. He pulls your head back slightly, drawing his cock out of your mouth with one last breathy moan.

You’re breathing heavily as you lock eyes with him, your lips swollen and eyes glossy with tears. He caresses your cheek with his big tattooed fingers, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“You wanna get undressed too, baby?” He says in a low tone.

“Sure,” You mumble softly, getting up from your knees that are red from how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.

You take off your black boots that end just below your knees, uncovering the rest of your black patterned tights. Your fingers impatiently reach for the zipper to the back, fumbling with it until you finally loosen the silk dress you’re wearing, letting it fall to the floor as you stay in nothing but your black lingerie adorned with tiny bows here and there. Joost’s eyes linger on your body and he swears this is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, noticing how beautifully your body has grown over the years and how confidently you stand in front him now, more like a woman and less like a girl.

You can sense his infatuation with you with the way he’s looking up at you and it only fuels your ego, a sudden cockiness coming through you.

“Are you just gonna stare?” You taunt him, Joost smiles at that.

“As if you don’t enjoy it,” He says, you assume he’s right.

He reaches his hands out to your hips, pushing you closer in between his legs as you place your arms loosely around his neck. He massages the area of your ass, though the material of your tights is in the way, preventing him from fully feeling your skin against his palms.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” You smile in agreement and give him a small nod as he begins to lower your tights inch by inch, exposing the soft skin of your legs. Once they’re off, he presses wet open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing but solely the idea of his mouth in between your folds, tasting you with his tongue as it swirls around inside of you.

The momentary fantasy draws loud sighs from your lips, correspondingly to the kisses Joost places on your skin. He notices, unable to hide the cocky smile on his lips as he starts moving higher, towards your stomach.

“Your bra,” he mutters, continuing his work on your body, “Take it off,”

You do as he says, trembling fingers rushing to unhook your bra, all the while Joost keeps on kissing your stomach that is rising up and down from your intense breaths. You pull your bra off, tossing it to the floor where the rest of your clothes are as Joost stares at your breasts, your nipples hardened as a result of his previous touch on your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” His small compliment sends a warmth to your face, a sweet smile forming on your lips and you can’t help but caress the sides of his face with your thumb.

You place one knee on the surface of the couch as you come face to face with Joost, giving him better access to the upper half of your body. Now that you’re this close to him, you notice the small stain that your red lipstick left on his lips earlier, letting out a small laugh at that.

He smiles, kissing you deeply on the mouth, jaw, collarbones, then finally your breasts. The tingling of his tongue on your nipples makes you moan quietly as he takes one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive skin.

The inside of your thighs is practically burning with anticipation now as more moans fall from your lips. “Joost please,” You breathe out in desperation as he hums against your boobs, “I can’t wait any longer,”

“I get it baby,” Joost withdraws from your chest, places a peck near your lips then nods to his side, “Come on, lie down,”

You lie down on your bare back, resting your head against one of the pillows to get a better view of your body. Joost turns to you, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach as he gazes down at your naked body, the only thing covering it being your panties.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks, his voice soft.

“You make it sound as if I’m being drafted into the military,” You say, causing him to giggle.

“Just asking,” He slightly puts his hands up in the air, “It’s been a while,” He says ever so softly as you both share a smile, silently expressing how much you want this. To anyone else, it would just look like a casual hook up but to you it’s so much more than that, layered with feelings and memories.

“Okay, you have my consent,” You say slowly, your voice close to a whisper. He nods satisfied, planting one last quick kiss on your lips before his fingers find the waistband of your black lace panties. His cock is hard, falling on your inner thigh, an image that only adds to the heat you’re experiencing.

You lift your ass, only a little so that Joost can slip your panties off of your legs, not bothering to tease you much about it. The air of the room feels cold against your wet pussy, causing it to twitch as Joost mumbles some curse in Dutch.

“So wet for me,” He coos as he collects the wetness from your folds with a quick stroke of his tip, making you gasp, your thighs closing at the sudden friction. He props one hand close to your face for balance and lines his cock with your entrance before starting to push into you slowly. The sensation of your walls clenching around him inevitably lets a shared moan fall from your lips as Joost bottoms out, then begins to thrust into you in a controlled manner that makes your head dizzy with pleasure.

“You’re so tight schatje,” The pet name is familiar, yet you still fight back a smile at the sound of it.

You stare up at him in adoration; his bare chest is glistening in sweat, his blonde hair is messy and his lips are slightly parted as soft grunts escape them. He was and is still the most beautiful man to you, despite all the insecurities that linger on his mind.

You notice he’s kind of tired because he’s struggling to stay propped up on his arms above you and you wrap your arms around his back, pulling him down to your chest. His body is heavier against yours but you don’t care, you embrace him while he continues his deep thrusts to your core that gradually become faster.

The way he fucks you is so perfect that it drives you wild. He knows your body so well, knows all the right places to touch as his tip keeps on hitting that one spot inside of you, pushing you closer to your climax.

Joost is close too, burying his head on the crook of your neck as you feel his hot breaths and the vibrations of his groans on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the sticky flesh of his shoulders, your breaths are shallow and you can’t suppress your loud moans given the frantic pace at which Joost is now slamming his shaft into you.

You try to tell him but it seems like the only words you can utter right now are continuous curses in between your uncontrollable whimpers.

“I’m- fuck,” Joost breathes, “I’m coming baby, I promise,”

Before you can respond in any way, you’re driven over the edge. Your vision becomes blurry, the only things you can hear are your embarrassingly loud moans and Joost’s own groans as you come on his cock.

Joost follows shortly after your orgasm, his warm release spilling inside of you while he sloppily fucks every part of you.

“Fuck,” He exhales and collapses on top of you. Your fingers graze his back, trying to soothe the red marks that your fingernails left on him earlier. Joost places his arm around your waist as you both let your deep breaths fill the silence of the room.

You stay like this for a minute or so, then he carefully pulls out of you as you hiss slightly at the feeling.

-

You’re the last one to take a shower and as you come back to your bedroom, you see Joost lying comfortably between the pillows and your stuffed animals, an image you wish you could see everyday. You climb atop the bed, also lying down as you cuddle him without hesitation and he’s quick to wrap an arm around you as well.

“When are you leaving New York?” You ask, hoping for the answer to be never, despite how unrealistic that sounds.

“In two days,” You nod against his chest but really, you want to break out into tears at the simple thought of losing him again and so soon.

You feel him take a deep breath, “Joost?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Can we spend the day together, tomorrow?”

He smiles even though you can’t see him, a bittersweet smile at that. He feels the same way as you, dreading the moment he’ll have to leave you, wanting to make up for the lost time. “Of course, liefste. Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know,” You mumble, “Oh! Maybe I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant, it’s not too far from here,”

“Okay, that sounds perfect,” His hands caress your hair and he leans down to place a reassuring peck on the top of your head.

You wish this moment would never end. If you could, you’d move with him back to the Netherlands tomorrow and start over, do everything right this time. But for now, all you can do is hold him tighter, make every moment count until he leaves. And then who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be together again.

───────────────────────

thank you for reading !! <3

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[nadvs]

　　💻　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 ⟢ even from afar

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary it’s hard enough to pretend you’re over someone. it’s even harder when you see them with someone new.

author’s note i was listening to ‘carousel’ by isabella on loop while writing this… entirely the vibe of this blurb.

blurb in the cam girl universe (18+), following the alt ending, based on this ask. all angst!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

having to find a second job was a hassle. after her car broke down and she got a ridiculous estimate that made it clear that getting a new car would be the financially smarter option, she knew she needed to find another source of income.

there were no other placements for her as a maid, so she secured a job as a server for a high-end catering company. it’s yet another position where she’s tending to the island’s wealthiest and snobbiest, but she tries to have a good attitude about it.

tonight, she’ll hand out drinks and refreshments and be cordial but quick like she’s been trained to be, giving guests what they want but not bothering them with her presence. it’ll be fine. maybe she’ll even earn some tips.

but then she sees rafe across the crowded banquet hall. and her stomach drops.

when she secured this job a couple of weeks ago, the tiny possibility of him being at an event she had to work gnawed at her in the back of her mind. but now, he’s really here, in the same room as her, looking agonizingly good in a navy suit and white button-up, his hair pushed back.

meanwhile, she’s in an uncomfortable uniform, a black dress that ends mid-calf, paired with practical shoes. as if she needed the reminder of how divided their worlds are.

the last time she saw rafe was over a month ago at his friend’s place, the house she started working at when she had to leave the cameron residence. when he called her so fucking stubborn. when he told her he loved her.

while she’s supposed to be focused on filling her tray with martinis, she can’t tear her eyes off of him, hating herself for still missing him.

then, she sees a woman’s hand cupped around his bicep, her manicure flawless, her bracelet shining under the chandelier lights. her hair is perfect. her dress is beautiful.

and her heels are the farthest thing from practical. because she doesn’t need to worry about being comfortable. the pain of seeing rafe with another woman, obviously a rich one, tears through her with no mercy.

she swallows down her nerves and looks down at her tray, mentally telling herself that if she really has to cry about it, she can cry later. she has work to do.

she thought she was feeling better about all this. admittedly, sometimes, she has to dismiss the frustrating worry that she was too impulsive with kicking rafe to the curb. but she was sure she was getting over him.

yet right now, her heart is a traitor, pounding with anticipation and pain and yearning as she looks at him. she’ll stay away from that particular area. it’s the only way she’ll make it through tonight.

it’s not that easy. almost twenty minutes into the gala, she gets pulled in to the group of four, having to face rafe again. the man whose house she cleans, rafe’s friend, looks at her with raised brows when he realizes it’s her passing by.

“what, we don’t pay you enough?” he asks with a laugh. “had to get a second job?”

she stops in her tracks. she looks up at him with a forced smile. god, she hates him. he’s cruel. he always bosses her around. he actively tries to make her feel like she’s below him.

she doesn’t want to look at rafe. she can’t.

“just getting more experience,” she says sternly but politely, then tries to step away.

“wait,” the woman on rafe’s arm says. “i’ll get a passionfruit martini.” she doesn’t even really make eye contact, more focused on her phone.

but rafe’s eyes aren’t on his girlfriend. or his phone. he’s staring at the beautiful girl wearing a uniform she shouldn’t have to wear, working a job she shouldn’t have to work. it still keeps him up at night, why he wasn’t good enough, why she didn’t want him spoiling her anymore.

“it’s a closed menu,” she replies, still refusing to look at rafe, “but we have french and lemon drop.”

the girl looks up from her phone and scoffs.

“you can’t just make it?”

rafe sees it in her eyes, how frustrated she is at his girlfriend’s attitude. he’s frustrated, too. he still doesn’t even know what he’s doing dating her.

but she’s been a good distraction. and maybe he’s an asshole for using a person to distract himself, but she’s just as shameless, a kook who’s been trying to hook up with him for ages because rafe’s notorious for not wanting to be locked down into a relationship.

he’s just a fling, a game to win to her, while she’s just a diversion from the weight that won’t leave his shoulders.

“we can’t make it,” she reiterates.

“why not?”

“just take what’s on the menu,” rafe tells her.

“babe,” she complains. “they have a whole bar over there. they can make it.”

finally, the woman he loves meets his eyes. and his entire body tenses. he misses her so fucking bad that he aches.

he stopped going to his buddy’s house so he wouldn’t have to see the girl who broke his heart working there. does she know that she still carries a piece of it everywhere she goes? does she even care?

rafe takes a glass from the tray, never losing eye contact with her.

“we’re good,” he says, his voice low, his stare heavy. “thanks.”

he hands the drink to his girlfriend, hoping it’ll shut her up. they’ve only been together a week and rafe is already sure he’ll be ending things.

because now, he’s been reminded of what it’s like to really love someone, to be so attracted to a woman that it’s like she’s the only person in the room, to want to spend all your time with her.

he’s found that in only one person. and she just walked away, eyes flitting away from him with hurtful indifference.

“wait, how do you know her?” his girlfriend asks his friend.

“she’s my maid,” his friend replies.

“is she always so fucking rude?” she scoffs. rafe sighs to himself. he thinks she should have been much ruder.

“not in bed,” his friend says with a grin.

“bullshit,” his other buddy laughs. “you’re not really hitting that, are you?”

“jealous?” he replies.

rafe’s blood goes hot. he doesn’t believe it. not for a second. not when he saw the way she looked at his friend. there was nothing but vitriol in her gaze.

she can’t be sleeping with him. but the thought of his idiot friend trying to put any moves on her, making her uncomfortable, makes him feel like he might go insane.

he has to be sure she’s being treated okay. and honestly, he’ll take any excuse to talk to her.

as she stands at the bar, tidying up the dirty dishes she just collected, she realizes she can hear her heartbeat over the music and conversations.

rafe has a girlfriend. already. they broke up, if she could even call it that, a month ago. he said he loved her. and now he has an insufferable, spoiled girlfriend. was anything he ever said genuine?

“hey.”

his familiar voice makes goosebumps blossom over her skin. she looks up to see rafe standing at her side, eyes travelling over her face.

the things those eyes have seen. her, in every way, in so many positions, taking her in while he called her perfect and said she was made for him.

“what is it? i already told your girlfriend it’s a closed menu,” she says sternly, unable to curb her envy.

despite everything, rafe’s lips curl up into a smirk. she’s jealous. a girl who doesn’t have any feelings for him wouldn’t be jealous.

“you care that i have a girlfriend?”

she picks up her tray and holds it to her chest, as if it can offer her any protection against the hurt he’s caused her, and stares up at him.

she never felt any reason to lie to herself or to him about the nature of their relationship. she never cared about her pride. she lost it long ago.

she steps an inch closer, making sure nobody else hears. it’s easy. she’s used to having to hide what they have. or had.

“it’s really fucked up to say you love someone, then be with someone else like, a second later,” she mutters. “i don’t care that you’re dating someone. it’s just obvious i’m not as important as you said i was.”

it’s not the answer he expects. she sees it in the way his face falls.

if he really opens up his heart right now, he’ll cry. he reminds himself of why he came over here in the first place.

“listen, it’s…” rafe swallows hard. “i’m here because he’s saying you two are hooking up.”

she sighs, rolling her eyes. his friend would. he’s a grade-a douchebag.

“i know it’s bullshit,” rafe says. truthfully, the confidence he has in her is refreshing. he was so possessive when they were together, but he knows her well enough to know she wouldn’t get near him.

“i just wanted to make sure he’s not doing anything to you,” he tells her. “are you okay?”

it’s a loaded question. no, she’s not okay. she’s so far from okay. these past few weeks have been hell. and she’s staring at the man who both ruined everything and could make it all better at the same time.

when rafe sees her brows drop and her eyes gleam with tears, his core twists in agony. what the hell has she been dealing with?

“you’re crying,” he says quietly, shocked to see a crack in her armor. ever since the night she ended things with him, she’s been cold and unforgiving. but now, she glances away, trying to swallow down the tears.

she remembers the nights they spent together, when they pushed each other to such physical limits that she was brought to tears, when he pointed out that she was crying in that exact tone of voice, stopping everything to comfort her.

“i need a second,” she says, stepping to the side. his hand rests on the inside of her elbow.

“let me come with you.”

again, it’s so out of character for rafe. he wouldn’t ever ask for permission before. he’d just follow her when she didn’t want to be followed, claiming her as his, angry that his property wasn’t doing what he wanted it to.

she didn’t doubt that he thought he loved her. but this is the first moment where she isn’t entirely doubting that it’s real. that it’s authentic, respectful love. and the revelation makes her uncomfortable and regretful and confused.

“okay.” the word comes out of her mouth before she can think.

he follows her into the empty coatcheck booth, shutting the door and turning on the dim light. they find a spot between filled up racks, jackets smelling like expensive perfumes and colognes. at this point, she’s sniffling back her tears.

rafe doesn’t know what to say. he just wants her to stop crying. it’s wrong. this is all so wrong. she shouldn’t be standing here, suffering in any way. she should be out in the crowd with him, as his date, smiling and laughing, without a shred of sadness sitting on her soul.

“i’ll kill him,” he says impulsively. “what is he doing to you, baby?”

“don’t call me that,” she replies. “you have a girlfriend.”

rafe looks down, exhaling sharply.

“not really.”

“what does that mean?”

“we don’t give a shit about each other,” he admits with a humorless chuckle. “it’s been a week and she already flirts with other guys in front of me. and i don’t even care. if you did that in front of me-”

rafe stops himself. it’s too much. he looks up at the ceiling. there’s no point in telling her how much she means to him when she doesn’t return the sentiment.

she tilts her head. hearing that his relationship is a superficial farce is unbelievably relieving, part of the reason being that if that girl out there is really his type, she never even stood a chance.

“tell me what he does,” he says.

“he’s just…” she shakes her head. it’s been torment, dealing with the environment at the house she cleans at now.

“he purposely makes messes just so i have to stay late to clean them,” she admits. “he says shit like ‘i know my stuff is worth more than your house, so i better not catch you stealing.’ and i would quit if i could, but-”

“why can’t you?” rafe urges. she sucks her teeth in frustration. he’s so out of touch.

“i have rent and bills. i need a new car. and it’s not like there’s a lot of options for people like me on this island.”

rafe stills. it’s the first time she’s ever said something like that out loud. she never seemed to think she was below anyone. it’s what split them up, her being so sure he saw her as just an object, even though that was never the case.

hearing her categorize herself like that with defeat in her tone is a punch to his gut.

“people like you?” he echoes.

“i shouldn’t be in here,” she sighs. “i shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“why is talking to me so goddamn bad?” rafe says, his temper flaring for the first time tonight. finally, after weeks of pain, they’re having a civil conversation, and she’s already dismissing him.

she looks up at him wordlessly. for once, she doesn’t know what to say. but then it comes rushing back, why she pushed this beautiful man out of her life. it cuts through her like she heard it a second ago.

“the shit you said to your friends-”

“stop,” he mutters. “don’t do that to me. i apologized a million fucking times.”

she crosses her arms, entirely at a loss. she’s not sure what he did could ever entirely leave her mind.

rafe rakes his hand through his hair, his bangs falling over his forehead.

“how much do you make cleaning?” he says. “i’ll double it until you find somewhere else to work.”

“what?” she says. here he is, wanting to solve all her problems with his wallet yet again, like they never had a brutal falling out.

“just let me do this,” he says.

her brows knit in confusion.

“why?” she finally says.

“are you kidding me?” he scoffs. “don’t make me say it when you’re not gonna say it back.”

she realizes he doesn’t want to say he loves her out loud. her heart is pounding even harder now.

the door clicks open and her eyes widen in concern, gripping rafe’s hand out of instinct. they’re concealed entirely behind the coat rack, but if anyone comes around the corner, they’ll be found.

she knows that rafe wouldn’t be in any sort of trouble. she, on the other hand, would be fired.

they have nowhere to go or to hide. they stare at each other, suspended, listening to someone she assumes works for the venue sorting things.

rafe can’t help it. his thumb strokes over the back of her hand. she looks down, gazing at the way her hand looks in his.

the endless nights they spent together rush through her head, how she felt his body surrounding hers, felt his lips on hers, felt him deep inside her. but those nights weren’t endless. they came to a crashing halt when her worst fears about him came true.

rafe gazes down at her, eyes travelling over her lashes and her lips, imagining that she’ll look up at him again, lean forward, and finally, finally, kiss him and give him the air he needs to breathe again.

but the door shuts and she lets go of his hand.

she doesn’t say anything. so, he does.

“just tell me how much you make there,” he says. “you don’t have to go back.”

she’s never had someone take care of her like this. he knows she won’t give him what he wants anymore. nothing physical. nothing at all. and she’s at her wit’s end, exhausted from working two jobs. she’ll take the help.

“i’ll text you,” she says. then, she rushes past him to get back to work. at the end of the night, she texts him the amount she earns in a week. he sends her well above double.

two days later, she’s sitting in her bedroom studying when she hears a knock on her apartment door.

it’s an older man at her front step, asking for her by name. she confirms she’s who he’s looking for and he hands her a small paper envelope.

“it’s parked out front,” he tells her. she watches in confusion as he leaves.

when she shuts her door, she opens the envelope to see that it’s a car key. she rushes to the kitchen window, looking out at the front of her building, and hits the lock button. the shiny car’s lights blink in unison.

it’s true. rafe bought her a fucking car.

she sinks into the closest seat at her kitchen table, staring down at the keys. it’s a ridiculously lavish gift, especially from someone she pushed out of her apartment last time he was here, someone she dismissed so harshly.

minutes later, she texts rafe: i can’t accept this.

he’s sitting in his bedroom when the text comes in. he knew she’d say that, which is why he paid someone to drop off the gift and leave before she realized what it was.

he replies soon after: if you think i expect anything, i don’t. you already told me nothing i do will make you want me again, so i know better. i want to do this for you. just take it. please.

she rereads the message over and over. then, she closes the conversation.

the wound he left in her is still bleeding. she knows because when she imagines him touching her again, she’s sure she’ll just remember the horrible things he said, the disgusting things he let his friends say.

and the pain of that would be too sour to allow her to feel anything sweet.

(continuation)