#why I try to always have something in both my hands

[cloudtransprncy]

One Night Only - Directors Cut

Jennie Kim X Male Reader | 8k words

One night. That’s all you ever get. By morning, she’ll be gone. You’ll tell yourself this was the last time. You’ll both know it’s not.

AN: Ya’ll might remember this if you followed me last year. Spent the last few weeks reworking it—call it the director’s cut. Also Jennie is still my ult and so her coming back into the light is great.

Consequence. The word sits heavy in your mind as you watch the city from your hotel window. Thirty floors below, New York keeps moving. Never stops.

You flick ash from your cigarette. Every choice has weight. You know this. You called her anyway.

Jennie's mouth is on yours, soft and demanding at once. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and expensive gin, sweet and sharp. Her full lips part against yours, tongue sliding against your bottom lip. Her fingers pull at your hair, just rough enough to send shivers down your spine. Between kisses she breathes, "This is stupid," but her body presses closer, breasts pushing against your chest, hips finding yours.

Commitment. You've spent years avoiding that word. Being tied down always felt wrong. You need movement, new cities, different faces. Maybe that's why things fell apart—she saw what you couldn't admit. You'd always choose the road over staying still.

Her skin burns under your hands, smooth and impossibly soft. When you slide your palm down the curve of her waist to the flare of her hip, she sighs against your neck, her breath hot on your skin. "I've missed this," she says quietly, like she's admitting something she shouldn't. You back her against the wall, pinning her with your body. She arches into you, head tilting back in invitation. You feel her pulse jump beneath your lips when you kiss her throat, right at that spot that always makes her grip your shoulders tighter.

The hotel room is all clean lines and empty space. King bed with white sheets. Bathroom with too many mirrors. Mini-fridge you've already raided. View of the city that probably costs extra. Your record label covers it, so you don't care.

As a kid, you'd search for Virgo in the night sky. Stars were constant when nothing else was. Jennie's like that. No matter how far you go, you always circle back to her.

In the half-dark, her eyes catch the light from outside. She's always seen through you, always known the parts you try to hide from everyone else.

---

She'll come. She always does.

You know she's with someone else now—an actor with a jawline made for billboards. In her world of flashbulbs and red carpets, he makes sense. But you were there first, and somehow, you're still not gone.

It's been a year since you ended things, if you can call it an ending. When you call, she answers. When she texts, you drop everything. Some connections don't break clean.

Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

A day between Chicago and Toronto shows up in your tour schedule. When you hear she's in New York for some event, changing your plans feels inevitable.

At sunset, you text her from your hotel room. The message is simple: Here for the night. Room 3045.

She replies with just a question mark. Your conversations have become this—shorthand that only works because you share history.

"I'm in the city for one night," you say when you call her. The silence on her end isn't hesitation; it's calculation. Background noise filters through the phone—glasses clinking, people talking.

"I got a room, for me and you" you add. "One night only." You hang up knowing she'll decide whether to come. You also know what that decision will be.

The knock comes at 12:17. Three quick taps.

When you open the door, your breath catches in your throat. Jennie leans against the frame, champagne glass dangling between her fingers, but it's her body that has your full attention. Her black dress hugs every curve like it was painted on, stopping mid-thigh to reveal legs that seem endless. The material stretches tight across her hips, then tapers at her waist before swelling to accommodate her breasts. The neckline dips just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

"Started without me?" you nod toward her drink, trying to sound casual while your pulse hammers in your ears.

"Needed something to get me here," she says, her lips curving into that smile that's haunted you for months. Her eyes are dark and knowing, lined with perfect black wings that make them look even more dangerous.

Jennie walks in like she owns the place, hips swaying with each step. Those knee-high socks hug her calves, leading up to a thin garter belt that disappears beneath her dress—a promise of what waits underneath. Her skin glows warm and golden against the black fabric. Her dark hair tumbles in loose waves past her shoulders, the kind of perfectly tousled look that makes your fingers itch to grab it.

Her perfume wraps around you—roses with something darker underneath, expensive and intoxicating. The scent that's followed you to hotel rooms across the country, lingering on your sheets and clothes long after she's gone.

She finishes her drink and sets the glass down with deliberate slowness. Her red-painted nails catch the light as her hand moves to your chest. "We shouldn't keep doing this," she says, but her fingers are already working your shirt buttons, knuckles brushing against your skin with each one. Her touch leaves heat trails down your torso. "It's not fair."

"When has anything been fair?" you ask. Her mouth curves into the smile that's always meant trouble.

"Never," she agrees, pressing her hand against your chest. "So we might as well take what we can get."

When she kisses you, it feels like she's taking something back, something she left with you months ago. Tonight, in this room, she's not the girl from magazine covers or someone's girlfriend. She's yours again, temporarily.

"It's been a while," she whispers against your mouth.

"Too long," you admit.

The door clicks shut behind her. You have until sunrise.

Something electric sparks between you the moment the door clicks shut. The air feels different - charged with memory and want. Your bodies remember each other before your minds can catch up.

You're on the couch in minutes, her weight settling into your lap like she belongs there. This kiss is different from the ones you remember - hungrier, more desperate. Her tongue slides against yours, and you taste gin and desire. Her body presses against yours, soft in all the places you've missed.

Your hands find her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. You squeeze her ass, pulling her closer until there's nothing between you but clothing. She moans into your mouth when you press your hardness against her. You can feel her heat even through layers of fabric.

Jennie breaks the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips for a second before it breaks. Her eyes are dark pools reflecting the city lights outside. They hold yours with an intensity that makes your throat tight.

"I've missed this, Owen," she whispers. Her voice is rough at the edges. She grinds against you, slow and deliberate, the friction making your breath catch. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you back to her mouth. This kiss is deeper, messier, with teeth and tongue and need.

Your hands slide under her dress, finding warm skin. The sound she makes when you touch her bare thighs shoots straight to your groin. You push the fabric higher, revealing more of her, inch by inch. Her breathing quickens as her hips roll against yours. Her nipples are hard points pressing through the fabric, rubbing against your chest.

She lifts her arms as you pull the dress over her head. You toss it aside, forgotten before it hits the floor.

Moonlight spills through the windows, painting her skin silver. She's all smooth curves and shadows in the half-light. Her body is a map you once knew by heart - the slight curve of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the dip of her collarbone. You take it all in again, relearning her.

Your hands can't stay still. You need to touch every inch of her, remind yourself that she's real. Her skin is impossibly soft under your fingertips, warm and alive. Each touch makes her shift against you, seeking more pressure, more contact.

The sounds she makes are better than any song you've written. Small gasps when you squeeze her thighs. A sharp intake of breath when your thumb grazes her nipple. Low hums of pleasure when you find a spot she likes. Each sound builds on the last, creating a rhythm that guides your hands.

You need to taste her. Starting at her collarbone, you press your lips to her skin. Salt and sweetness and expensive perfume fill your senses. She sighs, her head falling back to give you better access. You work your way across her shoulder, down her arm, learning the texture of her skin with your mouth.

When you reach her breast, you feel her whole body tense in anticipation. The skin here is softer, more delicate. You circle her nipple with your tongue, feeling it harden further. Your hand finds her other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak.

"Oh my god," she moans when you take her nipple into your mouth. Her back arches, pushing more of her into your face. The taste of her skin goes straight to your head like strong liquor. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath.

Your free hand slides down her stomach, fingers spread wide to feel as much of her as possible. You trace the edge of her panties, feeling the lace against your fingertips. She rocks against your hand, seeking more pressure. You cup her between her legs, feeling the heat and dampness through the thin fabric. Jennie gasps, her thighs trembling as you press your palm firmly against her covered pussy.

"Fuck," she breathes, grinding down on your hand. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp tingle. The slight pain only makes you harder.

You move to her neck, dragging your teeth along the sensitive skin below her ear. When you bite down - not hard enough to mark, but enough to make her feel it - she whimpers, her whole body shuddering. Your thumb makes slow circles against her covered clit while your teeth work at her neck, finding the spots that make her grip your shoulders.

"I forgot how good you feel," you say against her skin, your voice rough with wanting.

"I want to feel you too," she says, eyes locked on yours. Her pupils are blown wide with desire. Her hand traces up your arm, across your shoulder, around to your back. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving trails of sensation. She tugs at your shirt, impatient now. You let her pull it over your head.

Her hands are everywhere at once, exploring your chest, your shoulders, your back. Her touch starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. She leans down to kiss your neck, her lips hot against your pulse point. Her teeth graze your skin, just hard enough to make you hiss.

As her mouth works its way down your chest, a thought flickers through your mind - does she do this with him? Does she make these same sounds, move in these same ways? The thought knifes through the pleasure for a split second before her touch pulls you back.

Nothing exists outside this room. Not her boyfriend. Not your tour. Just her hands on your skin and her breath in your ear.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie says, her voice thick with desire. She slides from your lap in one fluid motion, her body moving with practiced grace. She settles between your legs, her knees pressed against the hotel carpet, thighs spread slightly apart. Her hair falls forward, framing her face as she looks up at you through her lashes.

In the half-light, she's a vision – lips parted and swollen from kissing, chest flushed and rising with quick breaths, her breasts full and nipples still hard from your attention. The garter and stockings against her bare skin create a contrast that makes your mouth go dry.

She runs her hands up your thighs, fingers pressing into your muscles. Her red nails stand out against your skin as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. There's something almost reverential in how she tugs them down – slowly at first, then with growing urgency. Her eyes never leave yours, even as she licks her lower lip in anticipation.

The fabric slides past your hips, and your cock springs free, hard and aching. A small smile plays at the corner of her mouth as she takes you in. She leans closer, her breath warm against your sensitive skin. When she finally looks up at you, her eyes are dark pools of hunger and something deeper – a look that's always been reserved just for you.

"You can have it tonight," you say, your voice rough as her hands wrap around your cock.

"All of it?" Jennie asks with a smile that's pure trouble. Her eyes don't leave yours. You nod, unable to form words.

She leans closer, parts her lips, and lets a strand of spit fall onto the tip. The warm wetness makes you twitch. She uses her fingers to spread it down your length, coating you. Her hand starts moving in slow strokes that make your breath catch.

Jennie sweeps her hair to one side, giving you a clear view. She doesn't break eye contact as she moves closer. Her breath hits you first, warm against sensitive skin. Then her tongue, wet and soft, circles the head of your cock. Your hands grip the couch cushions.

When she takes you into her mouth, the heat is shocking. Her lips stretch around you as she slides down, taking you deeper than you expected. Her tongue works against the underside, finding spots that make your thighs tense. The wet sounds fill the quiet room.

She pulls back, only keeping the tip in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it, teasing the sensitive spot just underneath. Then she moves down again, a little deeper this time. The rhythm is maddening – not enough to get you there, just enough to keep you desperate for more.

Jennie pulls off completely, her hand still working you in slow strokes. She looks up, studying your reaction. Her free hand moves to your balls, cupping them gently, then rolling them between her fingers. The touch is unexpectedly tender compared to the hunger in her eyes.

"You like that?" she asks, knowing the answer. Her thumb traces circles at the base of your cock while her other hand continues its exploration. "You always did."

She leans down and runs her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stroke. Then does it again on the underside, where you're most sensitive. Your hips lift off the couch involuntarily. She smiles at your reaction, clearly enjoying the power she has over you.

Jennie takes her time, alternating between her mouth and her hands. Sometimes she focuses just on the head, sucking gently while her hand works the shaft. Other times she takes you deep, then pulls back to circle the tip with her tongue. There's no pattern to follow, nothing to prepare you for what comes next.

Her hand slides lower, massaging your balls again before moving even further back. The unexpected pressure makes your whole body tense. She watches your reaction with dark, knowing eyes.

"Hold my hair," she says, pulling off for a moment. She grabs your hands and places them on either side of her head. "I want you to watch."

With your hands holding her hair back, you have a perfect view of her face, of her lips as they stretch around you again. She takes you deeper this time, her eyes watering slightly at the corners. The sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge.

She pulls off but keeps stroking you with her hand, tight and slick with spit. With her hair pulled back, you can see everything – her flushed cheeks, her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. She looks like something from a dream you've had too many times.

"You just can't stay away, can you?" she says, her voice low and teasing. Her hand never stops moving on you. "Always calling me back. Always wanting one more night."

She takes you back into her mouth, just the tip, sucking hard before releasing you with a pop.

"You think about this when you're with other girls?" She speeds up her strokes, twisting her wrist in a way that makes your vision blur. "Bet you do. Bet none of them do it like I do."

Her words hit something deep inside you – a truth you don't want to admit. You tighten your grip on her hair, pulling just enough to make her eyes flash. She smiles, knowing she's struck a nerve.

"That's why you keep coming back," she continues, dropping her head to lick a slow circle around the base of your cock. She moves lower, taking one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently while her hand keeps working your shaft. The dual sensation makes your legs shake.

When she looks up again, there's challenge in her eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Before you can answer, she takes you deep into her mouth again, all the way until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there, swallowing around you, her eyes never leaving yours. The sensation is overwhelming – wet heat and pressure and the sight of her taking all of you.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, and she hums in satisfaction around you.

Jennie works you with perfect focus. Sometimes she takes you deep, her nose nearly touching your stomach, staying there until she needs to breathe. Other times she pulls back to use her hand with her mouth, twisting her wrist in a way that makes spots dance behind your eyes.

Every few strokes she pulls off completely, gathering more spit, making everything wetter, messier. Saliva coats your cock and her chin now, catching the dim light. It should be gross but it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Time stretches and blurs. It could be minutes or hours. There's just Jennie's mouth, her hands, the heat building at the base of your spine.

She changes her approach, focusing just on the head, sucking harder while her hand works the shaft in quick, tight strokes. The new sensation makes your leg muscles jump. You feel yourself getting close.

"Fuck, Jennie, I'm—" you try to warn her, reaching to pull her head back. You want to make this last, to feel more of her tonight.

She slaps your hand away, hard enough to sting.

"You're giving this to me now," she says, voice raspy from having you in her throat. "And you're giving me more later." Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Jennie doubles down, moving with new determination. One hand squeezes the base while her mouth works the rest. Her other hand slides between your legs, fingernails lightly scratching your inner thigh. The unexpected touch makes you gasp.

She takes you deeper again, moaning around you like she's enjoying this as much as you are. The vibration, the suction, the sight of her – it all becomes too much.

The orgasm hits you like a punch. Your vision blurs at the edges as waves of pleasure roll through you. Jennie doesn't pull away, keeping perfect suction as you come. She swallows around you, the motion extending your pleasure until you're gripping her shoulders to stay upright.

She keeps going until you're too sensitive, until you have to gently push at her shoulders. Only then does she finally release you, looking up with satisfaction in her eyes. A small drop of white clings to her bottom lip before her tongue darts out to catch it.

She reaches for your discarded shirt and wipes her mouth and hands, casual as if she'd just finished a meal. The sight of her using your clothes like this only adds to the intimacy.

Jennie rises to her feet in one fluid motion, her body unfolding before you. She's petite but perfectly proportioned - slim waist, delicate shoulders, toned legs that seem to go on forever despite her height. Standing there in just her knee-high socks and garter, her small, perky breasts catch the dim light. Her skin has a golden glow against the darkness of the room.

She steps between your legs, looking down at you with hooded eyes. Her slender fingers reach for your chin, tilting your face up to meet hers. The gesture is possessive, almost commanding. She leans down, her straight dark hair falling forward to frame both your faces, creating a private world. Her lips find yours, softer now but still hungry. You taste yourself on her tongue, salt and skin.

"I'm not done with you," she whispers against your lips. "You brought me here. We're gonna make the most of it." Her fingertips trace your jawline before she steps back, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the bed.

As you follow her across the room, the city sounds filter through the windows – car horns, distant music, the constant hum of life that never stops. The soft lighting catches on her skin, giving it a warm glow that makes you want to touch her all over again.

As you follow her across the room, the city sounds filter through the windows – car horns, distant music, the constant hum of life that never stops. The soft lighting catches on her skin, giving it a warm glow that makes you want to touch her all over again.

Jennie moves onto the bed with natural grace. The curve of her spine draws your eye down to where her waist narrows before flaring into her hips. The small black thong she still wears cuts across her skin, the thin fabric disappearing between her cheeks in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

She positions herself in the center of the bed, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She folds her legs into a 'W' shape, showcasing their length despite her petite frame. The knee-high socks create a striking contrast against her bare thighs. The entire pose is an invitation you could never refuse.

Her hands begin to move across her own body, touching herself with slow confidence. She traces circles around her small breasts, fingers dancing across her skin with a self-assurance that's hypnotic to watch. In the dim light, every movement feels like it's meant just for you.

You notice how different she looks now compared to when she arrived at your door. Her carefully applied makeup is smudged around her eyes. Her hair, once smooth and perfect, is wild from your hands. She looks beautifully undone, more real somehow, and even more stunning for it.

She runs a finger across her lips, still swollen from taking you in her mouth. Then trails it down her neck and over her chest, drawing your eye along the path.

"Come here," she says, her voice low but commanding. She rolls onto her back, her body a landscape of curves and shadows in the half-light.

Though still wearing her thong, the thin black fabric does little to hide what's underneath. As you move closer to the bed, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and slides it down her legs with deliberate slowness. The last barrier between you disappears as she kicks it aside.

With the same unhurried confidence, Jennie reaches down and uses her fingers to part herself. The gesture is both vulnerable and bold – showing you exactly what you've been missing all these months. Even in the dim light, you can see how wet she is, glistening with want.

You climb onto the bed, feeling the expensive sheets against your palms. The fabric is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. The mattress gives slightly under your weight as you move between her legs.

Jennie is breathtaking beneath you. Her skin has a slight sheen in the low light, catching the glow from the bedside lamp. Her dark hair fans out against the white pillows, framing a face that's haunted your dreams for months. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths, her small breasts topped with hardened nipples that beg for your touch.

But you're not rushing this. Not after all these months apart.

You start at her ankles, where the knee-high socks still cling to her calves. Your lips press against the delicate bone there, feeling her pulse beneath the skin. She watches you through half-lidded eyes as you work your way higher, placing open-mouthed kisses up her calf.

When you reach the top of her sock, you peel it down slowly, revealing more of her skin inch by inch. The newly exposed flesh gets special attention – your lips, your tongue, even the gentle scrape of teeth that makes her shiver.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but there's no impatience in her voice, just wonder.

"Appreciating the view," you murmur against her knee. "Been thinking about this body for months."

You move to her other leg, giving it the same treatment – slow, deliberate kisses that make her skin prickle with goosebumps. Your hands slide up her thighs as your mouth follows, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch.

Her inner thighs are softer, more sensitive. When your tongue traces the crease where leg meets hip, she gasps, her fingers flexing against the sheets. The scent of her arousal is stronger here, making your mouth water.

You detour, moving up to kiss her stomach, the dip of her navel, the subtle ridges of her ribs. Each breath she takes makes her abdomen rise and fall beneath your lips. You work your way to her breasts, taking your time with each one – circling the nipple with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth, feeling it harden further.

"Owen," she sighs, arching into your touch.

Your hands never stop moving, exploring every inch of her like you're memorizing her by touch alone. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her sides – all of it perfect, all of it Jennie.

You make your way back down, leaving a trail of kisses from her sternum to her stomach. Her breathing quickens as you move lower, anticipation making her shift restlessly beneath you. When you reach the neat strip of dark hair between her legs, you pause, looking up to meet her eyes.

"You're fucking beautiful," you say, your voice rougher than intended.

Her eyes soften for just a moment before that familiar challenge returns. "Are you going to stare all night, or are you going to do something about it?"

You answer by settling between her legs, pushing her thighs wider. You can't help but stare at the view before you. There's something almost reverent in how you look at her – taking in every detail, every curve and shadow. Her thighs part further, an invitation that needs no words. Between her legs, you notice she's not completely bare – a neat, dark landing strip of hair points down like an arrow, the contrast of it against her skin making your mouth water.

The scent of her hits you first – warm and musky and distinctly Jennie. You breathe her in, letting it flood your senses and cloud your thoughts. Nothing exists but this bed, this woman, this moment.

You lower your head slowly, maintaining eye contact until the last possible second. The first broad stroke of your tongue makes her gasp. You take your time, exploring her with long, flat licks that cover her entirely. Her taste is familiar yet new – sweet and tangy and addictive. You could drown here and die happy.

"Fuck," she breathes, her hips already lifting slightly to meet your mouth.

You switch to softer, more focused touches, tracing her folds with the tip of your tongue. Each pass draws different sounds from her – soft sighs that gradually build to more urgent moans. You map her with your mouth, relearning what makes her breath catch, what makes her thighs shake.

When you find her clit, you circle it slowly, teasingly, not giving her the direct pressure you know she craves. Her fingers find your hair, tightening in frustration.

"Don't tease me," she warns, but there's no real threat in her voice – just desire strained to its breaking point.

You smile against her before giving in, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. The reaction is immediate – her back arches off the bed, a strangled curse falling from her lips.

Your free hand slides up her body, finding the toned plane of her stomach. You press down firmly, holding her in place as your mouth works against her. The contrast of your hand on her abs while your tongue explores her most sensitive areas makes her writhe beneath you.

She's getting wetter, her arousal coating your chin as you work. You move your tongue in circles, then switch to quick flicks across her clit that make her thighs tremble. Each change in pressure or rhythm pulls new sounds from her throat.

"Oh god, right there," she gasps when you find a particularly sensitive spot.

You slip a finger inside her, feeling her heat clench around you immediately. She's impossibly tight and wet, her body welcoming the intrusion. You curl your finger to find that spot that always drove her crazy. When you find it, her whole body jerks like she's been shocked.

"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You add a second finger, stretching her gently while continuing to work her clit with your mouth. The combination makes her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling almost painfully.

With each thrust of your fingers, you quicken the tempo, driving deeper into her. Her muscles clench around you rhythmically, like she's trying to pull you further in. Your tongue never stops its assault on her clit, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention.

"Owen," she moans, her voice breaking. "I'm so close."

You pull back just enough to look up at her, your fingers still working inside her. "You still think about this when you're with him?" The question slips out before you can stop it. Your thumb replaces your tongue, circling her clit as you watch her face.

She glares down at you, but her body betrays her, clenching around your fingers. "You're such a dick."

"But you're here anyway," you say, curling your fingers against that spot that makes her whole body jerk. "In my bed, not his."

Her breath catches. "Shut up."

You lower your head again, sucking her clit between your lips while adding a third finger. The stretch makes her gasp, her back arching. You can feel her getting closer – her thighs tensing, her breathing becoming irregular. Her entire body is flushed with heat, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the dim light.

You establish a relentless rhythm – fingers pumping while your tongue works her clit. The wet sounds of your movements fill the room, mixing with her increasingly desperate moans.

Just as she's about to peak, you ease back, slowing down just enough to keep her on the edge.

"Tell me you missed this," you say against her inner thigh, your breath hot on her wet skin.

"Don't stop," she pleads, hips lifting to chase your mouth.

You stay just out of reach. "Tell me no one does this like I do."

Her hands tighten in your hair, trying to force you back down. "I hate you," she says, but there's no conviction in it.

"No, you don't." You circle her entrance with your fingers, teasing but not pushing in. "Say it, Jennie."

She fights it for a moment, pride warring with desire. Then breaks. "No one does it like you do. Now please—" her voice cracks with need, "please don't stop."

The desperation in her voice sends heat through your entire body. You give her what she wants, diving back in with renewed hunger. Your tongue circles her clit rapidly while your fingers press firmly against that sweet spot inside her. The dual sensations push her toward the edge fast.

Her legs wrap around your head, thighs clamping against your ears as her body tenses. Your free hand reaches up to find her breast, pinching her nipple between your fingers. The added stimulation makes her cry out, her voice cracking with pleasure.

"Owen," she warns, her voice tight and strained. "I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," you command, increasing the pressure, the speed, giving her exactly what she needs.

Her breathing turns ragged, her moans more frantic. The muscles in her stomach tense under your hand as her body coils tight, ready to snap. Her inner walls clench rhythmically around your fingers, the first tremors of her orgasm beginning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—" Her words dissolve into a broken cry as it hits her. Her back arches high off the bed, her body going rigid. Her thighs shake violently around your head as waves of pleasure crash through her.

"Oh my God!" The words tear from her throat as her fingers pull painfully at your hair. Her body convulses beneath your mouth, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her. "You're so good at that, Owen."

She bites her lower lip hard, her neck straining as her hips jerk uncontrollably against your face. You don't let up, working her through the peak, extending her pleasure until she's gasping and writhing from the intensity.

The aftershocks ripple through her body like tremors, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. Only when she weakly pushes at your head, too sensitive to take any more, do you finally ease back. You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her wrecked expression.

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks utterly spent, flushed and beautiful in her satisfaction.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks down at you, her gaze dropping to your obvious arousal. Without a word, she reaches forward and spits on it, her saliva glistening as she begins to stroke you. You groan at the contact, your body responding instantly to her touch. You don't let up, working her through the orgasm, only easing the pressure when her hand pushes weakly against your head, oversensitive.

You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her flushed face. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks up at you, a predatory gleam replacing the post-orgasm haze in her eyes. Without warning, she reaches for your cock and spits on it, her saliva mixing with the wetness still coating her lips from going down on you earlier.

"Now," she says, voice raspy and demanding, "I'm going to fuck you."

She doesn't wait for your response, just straddles your hips and positions herself above you. Her thighs flex as she hovers, teasing you with the heat of her center just inches away from where you need it.

"Tell me how bad you want this," she demands, one hand flat against your chest for balance.

"Just get on my dick already," you growl, grabbing her hips to pull her down.

She resists, maintaining control. "Say please," she taunts, her eyes challenging you.

You nearly laugh. "Fuck you."

"That's the idea," she says with a wicked smile, then finally sinks down in one swift movement, taking you to the hilt.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you hiss as her heat surrounds you. She's impossibly tight after her orgasm, still pulsing slightly from the aftershocks.

"You're so fucking big," she gasps, adjusting to the stretch. There's no sweetness in her voice – just raw appreciation for how you fill her.

Jennie starts to move, not with gentle rises and falls but with demanding, forceful motions. Her thighs flex powerfully as she lifts herself almost completely off before slamming back down. Each drop makes a slapping sound that fills the room, punctuated by her sharp gasps.

The sight of her riding you is mesmerizing. Her small breasts bounce with each movement, nipples hard and dark against her golden skin. Her stomach muscles visibly tighten with each rise and fall, showing off the definition in her abs that she works so hard for. Her hair, now completely wild from your hands, whips around her shoulders as she moves.

"Touch my tits," she commands, grabbing your hands and placing them on her chest.

You squeeze roughly, pinching her nipples the way you remember she likes. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant column of her throat, a string of curses falling from her lips.

"Fucking hell, your cock feels so good," she says, grinding down hard. "Tell me you've missed this pussy."

"Every fucking day," you admit, thrusting up to meet her movements. The force of it nearly bounces her off you, but she adjusts her balance, her strong thighs gripping your sides.

She leans forward, her hands braced on your chest. The new angle lets her grind her clit against your pubic bone with each thrust. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent marks that burn. Her face hovers above yours, her hair creating a curtain around you both. Sweat beads along her hairline, one drop sliding down her temple to her jaw.

"No one fucks me like you do," she admits, the words sounding torn from her. "No one."

With a surge of need, you move between her thighs, pressing her into the mattress. Her legs wrap around your waist, drawing you closer. Your eyes lock as you drive into her, taking control of the pace.

"Fuck, I missed this tight pussy," you growl, watching her eyes flash at your words.

"Shut up and fuck me harder," she snaps back, digging her heels into your lower back.

You slam into her, setting a brutal pace that has the headboard cracking against the wall. Each thrust jolts her body up the bed, her hair splaying across the pillows like spilled ink. Her small breasts bounce with the impact, nipples hard and begging for attention.

Your hands move to her waist, fingers nearly meeting around her small frame. The contrast of your large hands against her tiny waist makes your head spin. You can feel her hip bones under your thumbs, the delicate architecture of her body beneath your palms.

"Like that? This how you want it?" Your voice is rough, almost unrecognizable with need.

"Yes—don't fucking stop," she gasps, her nails raking down your back hard enough to leave welts.

You lean down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Your tongues battle for dominance as your bodies slam together. The taste of her—sweet with a hint of salt from her sweat—fills your senses. You break away to trail bites down her neck, leaving marks that will remind her of this night long after you're gone.

She arches into you, offering more of herself. You take advantage, moving to her shoulder, then her arm, leaving a trail of bites and kisses along her skin. The salt of her sweat makes your head spin. When you reach the sensitive skin of her inner arm, she lets out a surprised gasp that turns into a deep moan.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," she pants as you run your tongue along the delicate skin of her armpit, tasting the most primal part of her.

In this position, you can see everything—her face contorting with each thrust, the way her stomach muscles tighten when you hit deep, how her lips part on silent screams when you find the perfect angle. Her hair sticks to her temples with sweat, dark strands clinging to her flushed skin.

Sweat makes your bodies slide together, the hotel room filling with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin. You grip her thigh, pushing it higher, opening her wider. The position stretches her leg up toward her chest, showing off the flexibility from her years of dance training.

"Harder," she demands, her voice breaking as you comply. "Fucking wreck me."

You reach down, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at you as you pound into her. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown with arousal. "This what you came here for? This what you needed?"

Her breathing changes, becoming more ragged. You recognize the signs—she's close again. You adjust your position slightly, hitting that spot inside her that you know drives her wild.

"There!" she cries out, her nails digging crescents into your shoulders.

You maintain the angle, the rhythm, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her body tenses beneath you, on the edge but not quite there.

"Let go," you urge, your thumb finding her clit. "Come for me again."

She shakes her head. "Not yet—not without you."

Something snaps in you at her words. Without warning, you pull out completely and flip her over in one rough motion. She gasps, surprised by the sudden movement as you manhandle her onto her hands and knees. Your hand lands hard on her ass, leaving a bright red handprint on her skin.

"Fuck!" she cries out, more in arousal than pain.

You grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as you position yourself behind her. Sweat drips down your chest, landing on her back as you line yourself up. You can hear her panting, waiting, her thighs trembling slightly in anticipation.

"This what you want?" you growl against her ear, your chest pressed to her back, cock teasing her entrance.

"Yes," she hisses. "Give it to me."

You slam into her without further warning, burying yourself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The sound she makes is primal—half scream, half moan. Her arms nearly buckle under the force, but you hold her up with your grip on her hair.

"Fuck!" she cries out, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

You establish a punishing rhythm, each thrust making her entire body jerk forward. Her hair is wrapped tight around your fist like a leash, forcing her back to arch at a severe angle. Sweat makes your bodies slide together, your skin slapping against hers with obscene wet sounds. The musky scent of sex fills the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Look at you taking it," you say, giving her ass another sharp slap that leaves a fresh handprint. "Always said you were made for this."

She looks back over her shoulder, her face a perfect picture of pleasure-pain, mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. "Fuck you," she pants, but pushes back harder against you, contradicting her words.

The sight of her is overwhelming – her narrow waist flaring out to perfectly rounded hips, the elegant curve of her spine dipping then rising, her hair tangled in your fist. From this angle, you can see everything – the way her back hollows out, how her ass bounces against your hips, the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you both.

You lean forward, running your free hand up her side to roughly grab her breast. The position pushes you deeper, making her gasp. Your fingers find her nipple, pinching hard as you maintain your relentless pace.

"Oh god," she moans, her arms shaking from supporting her weight. "Don't stop."

Her body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making her skin glow in the dim light. You can see the muscles in her back shifting beneath her skin with each impact, the way her shoulder blades move as she braces against your thrusts.

"Owen," she warns, voice strained with need. "I'm so close."

Her words push you closer to the edge. You increase your pace, chasing both her pleasure and your own. Each thrust now has purpose, driving deeper, harder. You can feel the pressure building at the base of your spine, your control slipping with every sound she makes.

"I'm close too," you admit, rhythm becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum."

Her body tenses beneath you, muscles tightening as she approaches her peak. You can feel it building—the way she clenches around you, the trembling in her thighs, her increasingly desperate sounds.

"Oh my God, Owen!" she cries out, her voice breaking on your name. "Fill me up!"

Her orgasm crashes through her—you feel it in the way her body convulses, in how she rhythmically tightens around you, in the broken sounds that escape her throat. The sensation of her pulsing around you pushes you over the edge.

Your release hits with an intensity that whites out your vision—powerful, overwhelming, unstoppable. You empty yourself inside her, every pulse accompanied by a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Her body milks you, drawing out every last sensation until you're both trembling from the force of it.

As the intensity fades, you collapse beside her on the bed, pulling her close against you. Your arm wraps around her waist as you press gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body still trembles with small aftershocks, her breathing gradually slowing to normal.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds in the room are your labored breathing and the distant city noise filtering through the windows. Sweat cools on your skin, making you shiver slightly. Despite the roughness of what just happened, she turns toward you with unexpected tenderness, her small hand coming up to cup your cheek.

She presses her forehead against yours, eyes closed, just breathing you in. A small, almost inaudible snort escapes her as she tries to catch her breath – a startlingly human sound that cuts through the haze of post-sex euphoria. It makes her seem more real somehow, more Jennie than the polished celebrity the world knows.

Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, her heartbeat a quick rhythm you can feel where your bodies press together. Her fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, moving from your chest to your shoulder and back again. It's these quiet moments that always feel more dangerous than the sex – this gentle intimacy that makes you think of what could have been.

"Shit," she finally whispers, a small laugh bubbling up. She looks slightly dazed, her makeup completely ruined, hair a tangled mess. "I forgot how good we are at that."

You brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture is too tender for what this is supposed to be, but you can't help yourself. "Some things you don't forget."

She looks into your eyes and you see a complex mix of satisfaction and something deeper—a longing that mirrors your own. Her hair sticks to her face in damp strands, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light. Even like this—especially like this—she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

As she lies in your arms, her breathing gradually steadying, you can't help but think about what might have been between you in another life—one where you could stay instead of always leaving. One where "one night only" wasn't all you ever had.

---

Hours later, once you’re sure she’s asleep, you slip out of the bed. The sheets make a soft sound as you untangle yourself from her limbs. She doesn't stir.

The hotel room feels different at 3 AM. Quieter. The luxury that seemed impressive earlier now feels hollow, just expensive emptiness. You find your sweatpants on the floor where she pulled them off you hours ago.

The balcony door slides open with a whisper. Thirty floors up, the city spreads out like someone spilled light across black velvet. You light a cigarette, cupping your hand against the wind even though there's no one here to see the brief flare of your lighter.

Inside, Jennie sleeps. Her small body barely disturbs the white sheets. In the dim light filtering from the bathroom, you can see the marks you left on her neck, her shoulders. Evidence that you were here. That this happened.

She belongs to someone else now. The thought should bother you more than it does. Maybe you're just used to it - this pattern of coming together briefly, then separating again. Maybe you've convinced yourself it's better this way.

You take a deep drag, feeling the burn in your lungs. It's cold out here in just sweatpants, but the chill feels necessary after the heat of her body against yours for hours.

You've never been good at staying. It's not a point of pride, just a fact, like your height or the sound of your voice. Commitment feels like drowning to you, always has. You've tried to explain this to her before. She said she understood, but the way she looked at you afterward told a different story.

Below, taxis crawl along streets like yellow insects. People spill out of late-night bars, laughing too loud. The city that never sleeps. You'll be gone from it tomorrow. Another show, another hotel room indistinguishable from this one.

You wonder if her boyfriend knows where she is tonight. If he senses something when she slips back into their shared life tomorrow. If he can somehow smell you on her skin despite the shower she'll take before going home.

The cigarette burns down to your fingers. You flick it over the edge, watching its orange tip tumble into darkness.

Jennie knows you better than anyone. This is the thought that keeps you up at night in cities whose names you sometimes forget. She knows your body, your sounds, the things that make you come undone. Worse, she knows the parts of yourself you try to hide from everyone else.

A melody forms in your head. Something slow and hazy, like smoke curling off a cigarette. Words follow naturally - about being in town just for one night. About needing her. About the room you got for just the two of you.

You mouth the words silently, testing how they feel:

I'm in town for one night,

one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Your fans will think it's just another song about sex. They won't know about the way Jennie looked at you when she came. How her body felt like coming home. How you're already planning when you can see her again, even as you tell yourself this was the last time.

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

The song takes shape in your mind, already feeling like a hit. Your producer will love it. Your label will push it. No one will know it's about her. No one except Jennie, if she ever hears it.

The city is turning blue at the edges when you finally go back inside. Morning approaching. Soon you'll have to leave for the airport, for the next city, the next crowd.

Jennie hasn't moved. You slide in beside her, your skin cold from the night air. She makes a small sound in her sleep and shifts toward your body heat, instinctively seeking you out. Her hand finds your chest, rests over your heart.

You wonder what she'd say if you asked her to come with you to Toronto. You won't ask. You both know the routine by now.

One night only. It's never enough. It's all you can handle.

END.

[fireinmoonshot]

soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there. 

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was. 

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?” 

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again. 

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy. 

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are. 

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you. 

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly. 

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared. 

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner? 

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first. 

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt. 

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.” 

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom. 

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin. 

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.” 

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in. 

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh. 

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands. 

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?” 

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring. 

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past. 

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably. 

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins. 

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone. 

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you. 

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him. 

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you. 

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug. 

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks. 

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return. 

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.” 

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.” 

[isaisliterallyhim]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[lapsed-bookworm]

The text from Gear Queen for 'Ask The Gear Queen' reads:

Dear Searching,

Just about the time I moved from queen sized to supersized I attended a workshop/discussion for supersized women at a local NAAFA conference. It was the first time I ever heard toileting and wiping problems discussed, and it really freaked me out. It also made me really glad to discover that I was not the only one to have these difficulties. Thank you for giving me the perfect opportunity to cover the topic, and please bear with me as I give some background to the uninitiated.

The basic problem is a species design flaw: Arms don't grow longer as needed. As the depth of your body grows the distance from armpit over belly to asshole increases, and there comes a point where your hand just can't reach your asshole anymore. But fear not! Depending on the configuration of your body and the arrangement of the toilet area in question, there are all sorts of things you can do.

Use a bigger stall

Sometimes if you spread your legs just 2 or 6 inches wider your goal will be in reach. Try taking down the tampon disposal box that's sticking in your thigh, using the handicapped stall, or sitting sideways on toilets that are jammed into a corner with lots of space on one side and half an inch on the other.

Try a different angle

See if holding your stomach out of the way helps. If you've got a smaller butt, maybe wiping from the back is the solution? Or try standing with one foot resting on the toilet seat (like the instructions for putting in tampons), or crouching, or some combination.

Use something to extend your reach

It can be anything that is long enough, appropriately soft and absorbent, and washable or disposable. I remember women at the NAAFA gathering suggesting the kind of kitchen pot scrubbers with a foam head and hollow handle designed for liquid soap. I imagine you could also use:

wooden or plastic cooking spoons with toilet paper wrapped around the bowl.

foam-rubber paintbrushes.

the kind of kitchen scrubby thing that has a ball of foam wedges or string at the end.

long strips ripped from an old sheet that you pull between your ass cheeks while holding it taut in both the front and back (like a back scrubber for your butt).

Just be careful not to use things that could injure your anus (scouring pads, brushes, etc.) and remember that if you are picking an item to use away from home you need something lightweight that you can: store in your purse or bag (unless you don't mind explaining why you always take that piece of vacuum-cleaner hose with you to the bathroom; throw away or rinse out (probably in the toilet: flush, rinse your gear, and flush again); store in a zip-lock bag until you get home or somewhere it can be thoroughly washed and dried.

Use a bidet

Now I have to admit that my only experience with bidets was at my mother's house in Turkey, where the bidet's water spout was carefully positioned to shoot a stream of water at my right ass cheek -- not all that useful. However, I believe they are supposed to be used to shoot a stream of clean water over your ass and pussy until they are squeaky clean (if somewhat damp). As a lower class alternative to remodeling your bathroom, one was developed by Bill Sabrey, and is sold through Amplestuff, PO Box 116, Bearsville, NY 12409. It's a 2-gallon jug with an attached pump handle and tube that attaches (with wire and a suction cup) under the seat of your toilet. A travel-sized version is also available.

Incidentally, this problem is related to another one that may be familiar to some of you: Incorrectly fitted dildo harnesses. Most leather workers will understand it if you show them that the hip band they've provided is too short to go around your hips. And they are usually happy to make you a larger one. (If they aren't, go to another leather worker!) However, if the length of the anchor straps --you know, the part that goes between your legs like a g-string or jock strap -- isn't also sufficiently lengthened they will pull the hip band low on your body and make the whole arrangement rather... precarious. Ah, the joys of being deep as well as wide.

Anyway, I hope I've helped you find a workable solution. Wishing you and your girl a lifetime of clean undies.

Gear Queen

End of text. NAAFA stands for National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance, and it's still going.

This is a bit embarrassing but here goes. I’ve always been on the larger side of average, but with some new medication I’ve gained quite a bit of weight and am definitely now in fat territory. My question is, I’ve been having a harder time wiping my ass, to be totally honest. Do you have any tips or tricks I can use as I adjust to my new size?

nah it’s important to talk about fat hygiene without shame! this is a change I’ve dealt with as well. I can’t reach behind myself anymore so I have to lean forward & go underneath. you might have to get off of the toilet completely so that you can squat low enough with your legs open sumo style. if that’s not doing the trick, get a bidet! I think everyone should give bidets a chance. I got one for $15 online and installed it at home with my partner. they also make portable ones! handles that grip wipes/tp also exist for this reason.

[joeybsversion]

Stress

Joe Burrow x Reader

Joe and reader plan their wedding together

“I feel like I’m losing my damn mind.” You huff as Joe walks into the room, a protein shake in his hand.

“What’s wrong baby?” He takes a seat at the table next to you, turning your laptop screen towards him.

You place your head in your hands and take a deep breath, “Wedding stuff.”

He turns the screen back towards you, “Let’s take a break.”

“Joe.” You sigh. “We can’t. There’s only 5 Sundays between now and the wedding… and you have games on 4 of them.”

“But that means we should still have one Sunday, right?”

“Wishful thinking,” you tease. “You play Monday night in Arrowhead which means you’ll be out of town.”

“Damn it.” He shakes his head, trying to come up with another solution. “What are you the most stressed about right now?” He questions, taking a sip of his shake.

“All of it. I mean we need to figure out music. And what if people don’t like the venue? What if the bar runs out of drinks? How long do we want the ceremony to be? How many appetizers should we serve during cocktail hour? And are we having an after party? What if we have too many people and not enough space on the dance floor? Is grandma gonna like the dessert? And -“

Joe cuts you off “woah, woah, woah. You can’t be worried about all the ‘what-if’s’ and pleasing everyone.”

“But I am.” You feel tears build pressure behind your eyes.

“This day is about us. Not pleasing everyone else.”

“Joe. This isn’t just an ordinary wedding, we’re entertaining hundreds of -“

“I know. I understand what you’re saying. But if we sit here and think about what can go wrong, we won’t have time to plan the things that will go right.” He pulls the computer over in front of himself. “What is the thing you’re the most stressed about?”

“Joey.” You laugh. “I’m stressed about stress before there’s even stress to stress about.”

The tall handsome quarterback erupts into laughter and shakes his head. “Let’s start from the beginning. Didn’t you say something about music?”

“Yeah. We need to make a ‘don’t play’ and ‘please play’ list for the DJ.”

“That’s a good starting point!” He reassures you. “What’s on our ‘please play’ side?”

“What gets everyone up and moving?”

“I’m not overly picky.” He shrugs, “we listen to some oldies at practice and warmups.” He adds a few of the teams favorite songs to the spreadsheet in front of him. “You pick the rest.”

“Joey.” You giggle, “You only added 2 songs.”

“I want you to pick.”

“You always make me pick the music.” You wine.

“I do.”

“Why?”

He smiles. “You get so excited when you pick it and a song you love comes on. Your body starts swaying and you get a huge smile.”

You giggle to yourself. He’s not wrong. “What if people don’t like my music?”

“Baby. You have to stop worrying about pleasing everyone.”

“I know but -“

He takes your hand. “I know this is stressful, and you want it to be perfect for everyone, but let’s have fun with it. Think about it, we get to spend a whole day together, with all of our friends and family, and it ends with a fun trip to Hawaii. 7 beautiful days under the sun. The wedding will be perfect, but I know we’ll love the honeymoon more. Just us. No crowds. No one to greet or please.”

“You’re right.” You smile at him.

He closes the laptop.

“Joe, we-“

“Shhhh.” He puts a finger to your lips. “I actually just thought of one thing we can work on.”

“What’s that?” You sigh, peeling yourself away from the laptop.

“The kiss.” He smirks. “We should practice.”

“We should.” You agree, pretending as if you guys hadn’t shared thousands of kisses before.

“Kissing?” He questions.

“Kissing.” You confirm.

“I’m a whole 8 inches taller than you. There’s a lot that could go wrong.” He teases.

“You stand here,” you position him, “and I’ll be right across from you over here.” You stand in your spot.

He takes both of your hands in his. “They’ll say something like, ‘I now pronounce you Mr. And Mrs. Burrow. You may now kiss the bride!” He announces, chin high and proud before leaning down to envelope you in a passionate kiss.

You giggle, pulling away, a huge smile on both of your faces.

“How did that go? Can we mark it off our list, Mrs. Burrow?” He laughs.

“I’m not Mrs. Burrow yet.” You remind him. “There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride dreams.” You smirk.

“Not funny.”

“What?” You giggle, slowing backing away. “I’ve always loved a good chase!” You take off, running laps around the kitchen island and through the house until Joe finally catches you, tackling you on the couch.

Eye to eye, nose to nose, the room was filled with tension and stress from wedding planning which quickly melted away as your lips met again for a breathless kiss.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Joey.”

[bewaryofpity]

hi viki! can i request fluff #9 with Quinn? 🫶🏻

almost panicked that i missed the deadline

thank you for requesting, my sweet berry ! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

9. “You're in love with me?!” “You just found out?”

.

It wasn't uncommon for the Hughes brothers to throw parties almost every weekend at the lake house, and tonight was no different with Jack inviting half of the neighborhood over, except this time both him and Luke were completely, utterly wasted. 

Music played from a speaker somewhere. You could see the two of them inside laughing so hard they could barely breathe from your spot on the dock. Shaking your head, you slipped inside heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was dimly lit, the soft glow from the under-cabinet lights reflecting off the countertops. You opened the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water, when Jack’s voice behind you made you jump.

“Hey,” he hiccupped, “has Quinn asked you out yet?”

You turned to see Jack leaning against the counter next to you, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. His hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead and his cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.

"What?" You asked, your heart skipping a beat. 

He took a stumbling step forward, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Quinn. Has he asked you out yet?"

"Why would he—" You stopped confused, staring at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Jack, what are you talking about?”

He squinted at you like you were the drunk one. "Dude. He’s, like, always liked you. Said he was finally asking you out this morning."

Your mouth went dry. Quinn couldn’t like you, not like that. You had been pushing down that crush you had on him since high school, it was impossible for him to feel the same way, he was your best friend. Jack was just messing with you. “No, I— Quinn and I are just—”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in frustration. “Oh my god, you’re so dumb. Best friends? Yeah, okay, but he’s been flirting with you for months! Have you not noticed?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but in all honesty, had he? Sure, Quinn was always there, always looking out for you, always finding a way to keep you close. But flirting? That wasn’t exactly his thing… Right?

He sighed and mumbled something under his breath you couldn’t really decipher. He then turned on his heel, muttering a bit more loudly about needing another beer, leaving you standing in the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked way too confident in what he was saying for it to be just some teasing that it was getting to your head now. 

You looked back to where Quinn was standing on the dock, not really paying attention to whatever conversation his friends were having in front of him when he locked his gaze with yours. With a pleading look and a tilt of his head, you followed him toward a quieter spot, out of the chaos and noise.

The lake stretched out in front of you, dark and still, the moon reflecting on the water. He sat beside you on his elbows, occasionally nursing his beer while you lay down looking at the starry sky. There was a comfortable silence between you two, but you were still stuck thinking about Jack’s words. 

“You’re in love with me.” You froze, the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Quinn turned to look at you and huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you just found out? I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

You sat up, your stomach flipped at the casual tone of his confession. You blinked, brows furrowed, before letting out a short laugh. "You're not really the most expressive guy I know."

Quinn exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, I thought you’d pick up on it eventually." 

His voice was quieter now, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying this. You stared at him, taking in the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers curled against his knee like he was bracing for some sort of rejection. This was Quinn, your best friend and suddenly everything felt different now.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper

Quinn let out a slow breath, his lips pressing together before he finally spoke. "Because I was scared of losing you."

Your heart ached at his words. For a moment, the only sound was the water lapping against the shore, the distant buzz of music coming from the house. Then you reached out, hesitantly, threading your fingers through a curl that fell in front of his face. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting yours.

"You’re not losing me, Quinn. Never." You said, closing your distance to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. And that was all Quinn needed to put his rushing heart to rest.

[bu3ck3r]

wrapped in you

paige bueckers x reader

summary: you’re having an off day and paige is the sweetest and cheers you up

You weren’t sure when the heaviness settled in your chest, but it had been there all day—pressing down, making everything feel dull and overwhelming. It wasn’t one specific thing, but a mix of small disappointments, stress, and exhaustion stacking up until it felt like you were sinking.

And no matter how much you tried to hide it, Paige noticed.

She always did.

It started in the morning when she caught you staring off into space at breakfast, your spoon lazily stirring your cereal until it went soggy. Then at lunch, when you barely touched your food, only offering a half-hearted smile when she asked if you were okay.

By the time you were curled up on the couch in the afternoon, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, she had seen enough.

Paige plopped down next to you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Alright, what’s up?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Paige poked your side gently. “You’ve been in a funk all day. Talk to me.”

You sighed, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

Paige wasn’t buying it. “Baby, you can’t fool me.”

You chewed your lip, debating whether to just brush it off again. But the way Paige was looking at you—soft but serious, like she wasn’t going to let this go—made it hard to keep up the act.

“I just feel… off,” you admitted finally. “Like everything is too much, and I don’t even know why.”

Paige was quiet for a moment before shifting closer, putting your legs on her thighs. She reached for your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles in slow, comforting strokes.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to explain it if you don’t know how. But you don’t have to deal with it alone either.”

Something in your chest loosened slightly. Paige always had a way of making you feel understood, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

But the heaviness was still there, lingering like a storm cloud.

Paige studied you for a beat before standing up abruptly.

“Okay, we’re fixing this,” she declared.

You frowned, confused. “Fixing what?”

“Your mood,” she said matter-of-factly. “Stay right there. I have a plan.”

Before you could protest, she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you sitting there, bewildered. A few minutes later, she returned, her arms full—blankets, her hoodie, a bag of your favorite snacks, and even her laptop balanced precariously on top.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “What are you doing?”

“I want to cheer up my favorite person ,” she announced proudly. She draped the hoodie over your lap first. “Put this on.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped the oversized hoodie over your head anyway. It smelled like her—like fresh laundry and vanilla, warm and familiar.

Paige grinned when she saw you relax slightly. She threw a blanket over both of you, pulling you close so you were practically in her lap. “No escaping. You’re officially trapped.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at making you feel better? Yeah, I know,” she said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but Paige caught the way your lips twitched into the tiniest smile.

She handed you a bag of your favorite chips before opening her laptop. “We can watch a movie, or I can show you funny TikToks, or we can talk about something completely random. Your choice.”

You hesitated before murmuring, “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Paige’s expression softened. “Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as you rested your head against her shoulder. She didn’t try to force you to talk or pretend everything was fine. She just stayed there, warm and steady, letting you take whatever comfort you needed.

After a few minutes, she started absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair. “You know,” she mused, “whenever I have a bad day—like when my shots aren’t falling, or I feel like I’m not doing enough—I try to remind myself of the good things. The little things that make everything worth it.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “Like what?”

Paige smiled, her fingers still tracing soothing patterns in your hair. “Like how my dad always texts me before every game. Or how the team hypes each other up even on our worst days. Or…” She paused, her smile turning softer. “Or how you always wait up for me, even when you’re tired. And how you steal my hoodies but somehow make them look better than I do.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Paige nudged you playfully. “See? Smiling already. My plan is working.”

“You’re something else i swear” you murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said dramatically. Then, in a softer voice, “But seriously… I love you. And I’m always gonna be here, even when you’re feeling off.”

Your throat tightened—not with sadness this time, but with gratitude. Paige didn’t need grand gestures or fancy words to make you feel loved. She just knew you. Understood you. And that was enough.

You squeezed her hand. “I love you too.”

Paige grinned. “I know.”

You groaned, nudging her. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning her laptop screen toward you. “Alright, since you didn’t pick a distraction, I’m putting on a rom-com, and you have to deal with it.”

You shook your head but didn’t protest. Paige hit play, and soon enough, the movie was filling the room with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top romance.

But your focus wasn’t on the screen. It was on Paige—the way she absentmindedly played with your fingers, the way she laughed at all the dumb jokes, the way she kept sneaking glances at you like she was making sure you were okay.

And somehow, without you even realizing it, the heaviness that had weighed you down all day didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It didn’t fix everything. But sitting there, wrapped up in Paige’s warmth, her heartbeat steady against your ear, you realized something important.

Even on the hardest days, you weren’t alone.

And that was enough.

@melpthatsme hope u like it!

[melpomenes-muse]

Broken Mugs & Great Communication

Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 796

CW: Pregnancy

When it comes to communication, you're not exactly the best. And why, when you have important news to share with Bucky, should that change now?

“Here you go, Buck.” You placed a mug of coffee in front of your husband and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky gave you a smile before turning his attention back to his book. Filling your own mug with tea, you sat cross from him, and placed your hands under your chin. Bucky glanced up and smile at you. You smiled back and motioned for him to continue reading.

You just propped your elbows on the table and watched him. Bucky glanced up again, and seeing that you were still staring at him, abandoned his book and picked up his mug. “Am I missing something here, doll?” He looked at you over the mug.

“Why, whatever on earth do you mean, James?” You blinked rapidly and gave him an innocent smile. Bucky narrowed his eyes and put down the mug.

“To begin with, you haven’t stopped staring at me since you sat down,”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“That and you’re calling me by my given name. You never do that,” Bucky picked up his mug again. “Unless I’m in trouble, or you’ve done something.” Bucky failed to see the smirk on your face as he took another swig of coffee.

“Maybe it’s a little of both.” He looked up to see your mischievous expression.

“Well, that makes me feel much better.” Bucky mumbled, putting the mug back down.

“Are you finished?” You leaned forward expectantly, looking from him to the mug with interest.

“Did you poison me or something?” Bucky glanced at the mug suspiciously. You shot him an unimpressed look.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” Bucky shook his head and turned his attention back to the book. He glanced up again to see you looking from the mug to him wistfully. With a groan, he firmly shut the book and placed it off to the side. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get much reading done today.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been acting funny all morning.” You folded your arms and leaned forward.

“I’m always funny, James.”

“Again, with James.” Bucky moaned, leaning back in his chair. He noted the way you glanced at the mug again. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned towards the mug. And he also noticed your obvious and instant disinterest in the mug.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Hm?” Bucky was now holding the mug, inspecting it for any obvious signs of tampering.

“Would you still love me if I, oh, I don’t know, inflated like a bowling ball.”

“Of course,” You narrowed your eyes. He wasn’t listening to you. “Bucky, just finish the coffee!” His eyes shot up to meet yours at the urgency in your voice. He was taken aback by the almost desperate look on your face.

“I did.” Placing the mug on the table, he turned his attention to you.

“And?” You leaned forward.

“And?” Bucky leaned forward. “And what?"

“Ugh!” You flopped back in your chair, thoroughly exasperated. “Look again, Bucky, on the inside this time.” Man, did you really have to spell it out for this man. Bucky hesistantly picked up the mug again and this time he noticed writing on the inside of the mug.

‘Congrats On Your Aim.’

“I’m clearly missing something here.” Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up to see you, face down on the table. “Angel, give me a hint.” You lifted your head to look at him before resuming your former position.

“You’ve still got game old man.” Bucky tightened his grip on the mug, trying to fight his growing suspicions.

“You said something a few minutes ago.” He looked back at the mug, waiting.

“If I swelled up like a bowling ball, would you still love me?” Your voice was muffled by the table.

“Clear language, doll.” Bucky’s voice had grown husky. You looked up at him and rested your chin on the table.

“Congrats Sergeant, we’re adding another member to the platoon.” Bucky dropped the mug on the floor. “Oh, Bucky!” You jumped to your feet and moved to pick up the glass. Bucky stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Angel...” His voice was thick with emotion. You turned fully towards him and moved to stand in front of him. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and looked up at you. Running a hand through his hair, you cupped his jaw with your other hand and gave him a soft smile. Bucky sniffed and looked at your stomach.

Pulling you closer, he buried his face into your shirt. You wound your arms around his head. The fingers of his vibranium hand flexed against your skin. “Thank you.” His voice was muffled by fabric. You bent your head and placed a kiss onto the top of his head, the broken glass completely forgotten.

@lazyjellyfish300 😉

[crowsofdarkness]

Bucky can’t sleep next to you anymore after the snap. But it’s okay. You’ll be okay.

CW’s below the cut(angst, swearing, mentions of cheating)

a/n: this was a request that was originally posted on my old blog.

The quiet, emptiness of the room had brought sadness throughout my bones as I turned over in bed, patting the space next to me. The sheets were cold, untouched. A broken sigh fell from my lips, knowing that he wasn’t coming to bed tonight; once again.

I weighed the options on my shoulders, debating if it would even be worth trying to fight with him.

I could stay in bed, like I had been every night this past week, and let him lay in his makeshift bed on the hard floor. It wasn’t comfortable but with the fights we had been having, I knew he would choose that over our bed.

Or.

I could walk into the living room, figure out what’s wrong with him and us, hoping it would bring him back to bed with me.

Finally deciding on the latter, I tossed the heavy comforter off my bare legs and trekked the short walk into the living room. He was laying on the floor, blankets and pillows scattered around him. My heart sank, knowing that there was a large sectional couch behind him, however he always chose to lay on the ground.

Ever since he came back from the snap, he wasn’t the same; our relationship wasn’t the same.

“Hey, Buck?” My voice was hushed, afraid he was asleep.

He looked over his shoulder, away from his book, and gave me a small smile. “Did I wake you?”

Immediately I shook my head. “No, well kind of. You know I hate waking up to an empty bed.”

His vibranium arm rested gently on his knee and his bare chest raised with a deep breath. I marveled at the way his skin glistened under the moonlight from the window.

“I’m sorry, doll. I can’t sleep on the bed. It’s too soft.”

I nodded, trying to mask the sadness I felt. Bucky slept in our bed for the first few months that we were back together but as our relationship strained, he started sleeping in the living room. He hadn't been able to recover from his past. Wakanda had been his only peace, our only peace, but when he was snapped away he lost on that time to find himself.

Post Winter Soldier.

We had been together for so long; since the 1940’s. I had been on the ship with Steve when it went into the ice, waking up together 70 years later.

Oh, Steve.

Bucky and I both had taken it extremely hard when Steve decided to go back in time, stay with Peggy Carter. We felt deserted, not good enough for Steve, after everything we had been through together.

He would say that he’s fine but I knew that Bucky was hurting inside, knowing that he lost his best friend.

But I was still here.

“What if we just lay in bed together, watch a movie?” I suggested.

Bucky hesitated. “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t want to keep you up.”

Nightmares; he was still having them and no matter what I did to help, they still had a vice grip on him.

Another reason on the list as to why he refused to sleep in the same bed with me.

With an annoyed sigh, I sat on the arm chair across from him and ran my hands over my bare thighs.

“Did I do something?” The tears brimmed at my eyes. “You don’t want to sleep in the same bed, you rarely look at me anymore, and I can’t remember the last time you touched me.”

“Doll,” Bucky breathed.

His fingers raised to touch my hand but when he hesitated, my heart broke.

“Are we going to make this work or am I going to get hurt?” I choked out a sob.

After almost six months dealing with Bucky distancing himself from me, I needed to know if this was the end. I wouldn’t allow myself to continue to be strung along. I understood that he had been dealing with some things, even seeking therapy, but that wasn’t a reason to shut me out.

“I’m trying, Y/N. It’s been tough trying to adjust,” Bucky spoke.

“What about me? I watched you get dusted in my hands and spent five years on my own, trying to find a way to bring you back.”

Bucky sighed. “I know.”

“Do you?” I stood with anger. “Because when was the last time you asked how I was doing?”

He was silent, giving me my answer.

I hastily wiped the tears from my cheeks and let out a shaky breath. “Every day goes by without a touch or even a kiss from you fucking kills me, Buck. I can’t help but think of a future world where we don’t collide and it makes me sick.”

Bucky was on his feet now, running a hand over his tired face. “I’m trying, Y/N. I want to be with you, build our future, but there’s some things I can’t get over.”

My eyes sliced into him, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “You were gone for five fucking years, Bucky. Steve was there and I apologized over and over again. How many more times do I have too?”

His shoulders went rigid with his own anger. “You fucked Steve. It's not something I can easily get over.”

I knew that if I continued to be angry, this fight would never end. It was the same thing every few days and honestly, I was exhausted.

“Look, if you want to leave, I’ll make it easy. The door is behind you. It will hurt like hell to lose you, Bucky, after everything we have been through. But I’ll be okay.”

Bucky stuffed his hands in his sweat shorts, giving me a shrug. “Our future is fading to black, Y/N. I’m trying to save it but it’s getting harder to hold on.”

My eyes were red and puffy, broken sobs echoing throughout our apartment. My heart was once full of love for him but now it was shattered into pieces, pooling at the pits of my stomach. The tape didn’t work and the glue only made it worse, maybe it was time to let it stay broken.

Letting out a deep, shaky breath, I gave him a strong nod. “I’m not going to keep you if you don’t want to stay, Bucky. I love you so much. I understand that I hurt you when I slept with Steve and I know it’s stupid of me to think that you’d forgive me. I only hoped that your love for me was enough.”

Bucky reached for my hands, his vibranium fingers cooling my heated skin. “I love you too, doll. I just need some time to adjust to everything.”

“I can’t wait forever, Bucky. I need to know if you’re going to leave so I can prepare myself for the heartbreak.”

When he remained silent, a sense of unsureness on his soft features, I finally gave in and nodded.

“When you decide on what you need, I’ll be here. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Just know that I will never stop loving you and eventually, I’ll be okay.. But if you decide to stay, to fight for us and work for our future, you know where I’ll be.``

A soft kiss was placed on his lips, one that he had returned with some short of fire behind. It wasn’t how we used to kiss pre snap but I could feel some kind of love.

Turning my back to him, I walked back into our bedroom and crawled into bed. The heavy blanket calmed my body as I sobbed out for my losing love. Through my cries, I tried to listen for Bucky and what his decision was. His footsteps that bounced off the walls slowly started to fill the empty hole in my heart.

[kpop-reactions-povs]

Ateez-Their S/O being clingy when they’re busy

Hongjoong

Hongjoong is deep in work, headphones on, fingers typing away at his laptop. You slip behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his head. “Jagi… I need attention,” you whine. He sighs dramatically. “You always want attention when I’m busy,” but the small smile tugging at his lips gives him away. He lets you cling for a few minutes before finally pulling you into his lap. “Five minutes,” he mutters, but an hour later, he’s still holding you while trying to work.

Seonghwa

Seonghwa is organizing something, moving around the room with a focused expression. You follow him like a lost puppy, clinging onto the hem of his shirt every time he stops. He turns around with an amused smile, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re extra needy today, hmm?” Instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into a warm hug, rocking you slightly. “Okay, I’ll take a break,” he sighs, kissing your forehead. “You win.”

Yunho

Yunho is gaming, totally focused—until you dramatically flop onto his lap, sighing loudly. “I see you’re in one of those moods,” he chuckles, wrapping one arm around you while still playing. You keep wiggling, trying to get more of his attention, until he suddenly drops his controller and attacks you with tickles. “You wanted attention, right? Here it is!” he teases, laughing at your giggles. Eventually, he just cages you in his arms, holding you close while still playing.

Yeosang

Yeosang is on his phone, scrolling through something important, when you slide onto his lap and cling to him like a koala. “I’m busy,” he deadpans, but his free hand immediately starts rubbing small circles on your back. You nuzzle into his neck, feeling him tense slightly. “You’re so clingy today,” he murmurs, but he makes zero effort to move you. A few minutes later, he finally puts his phone down with a sigh, wrapping both arms around you. “Okay, you win. Happy?”

San

San is stretching before practice when you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, burying your face in his back. He groans dramatically. “Aish, why are you like this today?” But then he grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, locking you in place. “I guess I have no choice but to stay like this forever,” he sighs playfully, swaying side to side with you still clinging. Eventually, he turns around and picks you up, spinning you slightly before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay, one more hug, then I really have to practice.”

Mingi

Mingi is writing something down when you crawl into his lap, arms locking around his neck. He freezes. “Uh… babe?” He blinks in confusion, trying to act unaffected, but his ears are turning red. You rest your head against his shoulder, sighing happily. He tries to keep writing, but his hand is shaking slightly, and his focus is completely gone. “Okay, fine, you win,” he mutters, dropping his pen and wrapping both arms around you tightly.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is texting when you plop beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. He immediately melts. “Awww, my baby is needy today?” he teases, dropping his phone instantly. Instead of pulling away, he hugs you tighter, rubbing your back dramatically. “I was totally about to text back, but you’re more important,” he grins. He starts placing soft kisses all over your face until you’re giggling. “We’re staying like this forever, okay?”

Jongho

Jongho is working out when you walk up and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “I’m sweaty,” he warns, but you don’t let go. He sighs, shaking his head, but his hands are already covering yours, keeping you close. “You’re so stubborn,” he grumbles, but you catch the small smile on his lips. After a few minutes, he finally turns around, lifting you up with ease. “Fine, five minutes,” he mutters, but ends up carrying you around for much longer.

[pokemonshelterstories]

Hey! Greetings from Floaroma, Sinnoh! Kinda need some advice.

I found a really large Aron in my garage, eating my partner's motorcycle and some ewaste we had lying around. When I say large, I mean, huge. Larger than any Aron I've seen in my life. Yamaha(the Aron) now refuses to leave. My partner got mad at me for naming him, and wants him out, pronto. Yamaha's taken a liking to not just me, but my Umbreon Nightlight and my Sylveon Monster Truck. I've put Yamaha out of the garage, even took him in my pickup to set him free a ways out of town, but he keeps coming back. I adore him, and he very clearly enjoys the presence of me and my current Pokémon, but I just can't keep him because of my partner. It's caused a rift between me and my partner, who already wasn't pleased when I said I had two Eevee. (He'd even previously asked me to give one up- Nightlight has been with me since I was 12 and Truckie was a transition gift from my brother, who bred me a shiny male Eevee. Obviously, both are still with me, but my partner was very hard pressed to accept that, even after 3 years!)

How do I get Yamaha to stop coming without breaking his little heart? I feel like he's telling me he's chosen me, and I've always wanted to train an Aggron, but my partner can't forgive him for eating his motorcycle. Yamaha gets so sad when I leave him or kick him off our property and it makes me feel evil, honestly. He's not anyone's Poké, I avoid actively feeding him so he's not encouraged to stay, I drive him farther and farther away every time but he keeps finding his way back to my house. He's such a goofy, loving Pokémon and I feel bad I can't take him in. I'm a little afraid to take him to a shelter, mostly due to his size and the fact that he's very much a wild Poké, I don't want to take him and then he ends up hurting the staff or they don't have the resources for him. What do I do? Do I hand Yamaha over to the Rangers?

-a very sad Eevee dad

hm. sounds like yamaha is probably a human-bred and released pokemon. aron usually live out in mountains with rich ore deposits and aren't particularly inclined to approach humans when they're wild-born. sounds like he's having a hard time finding proper food sources if he's been rooting around in your garage. to be honest, i don't think you're going to prevent him from coming back without sending him very far away. they're not easy pokemon to deter, which is why they're considered pests in a lot of regions with metal infrastructure. i think your best bet is to get him to someplace that takes problem wild pokemon.

a shelter may or may not take a wild aron depending on their resources, but if you talk to the rangers, they can find somewhere that's equipped to handle him. i really do think he's either a released pokemon or at the very least highly human-habituated; if you were to bring him to the artazon station, for example, we would place try to place him with a home rather than have him released back into the wild. if you decide not to keep him, the rangers are the best place to take him.

that being said...i mean, i'm not a relationship counselor, but is everything good between you and your partner? i can get not wanting to keep a random aron, especially one that ate something important to him. the fact that you named him after a motor company when he ate your partner's motorcycle is honestly kind...mean-spirited, i guess? at the same time, him wanting you to rehome a beloved pokemon is also kind of a red flag. ultimately it's not my business, but if i was having that kind of conflict with paulo, i'd want to go to relationship counseling. might not be a bad idea for you two?

[angstywaifu]

Treating You Right - Aaric Graycastle

Summary: You and Aaric grew up together, but you never got along. But when you both end up as cadet's in the riders quadrant, he changes. His behaviour for all those years not entirely being how he wanted to treat you. A/N: I had so many requests for another Aaric fic so I kind of just compiled them all into one. So if you sent a request for Aaric, this is for you! Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Fingering. Unprotected Sex. Use of pet names (sweetheart). Rivals/enemies to lovers. Masterlist | Links

“You’re staring again.” Sloane teases, pulling me from my thoughts or lack there of.

Across the room, Aaric is in the middle of a challenge with another cadet from Third Wing. And as per usual he’s making it look easy. Barely breaking a sweat as he does it. Like he always has. I’m one of the few that knows who he actually is. Cam Tauri. The son of the King. A son I grew up around and never got along with well. He always acted so up himself. Living up to his title. But since being here, he’d changed. Or maybe he was putting on a front all those years.

“I am not.” I snap back as she laughs at me.

”You were. Like you always do. Starting to think you don’t hate him as much as you let on.” She teases again with a knowing smile.

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head. ”Trust me, I hate him.”

”Then why are you staring at him?” She states with a cocked brow. Gods she was too good at reading me. I’d only known her a few weeks and I felt like she knew me better than anyone.

”Figuring out the best way to take him out.” I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’d believe you if it weren’t for the fact were on the same squad.”

”Maybe I’m waiting till we graduate to take my shot.” I fire back.

She wasn’t wrong though. I had been staring. And not for the reasons I was telling her. If it wasn’t for the fact we disliked each other, I’d be all over Aaric. And I hated that I wanted that. Hated how I’d started noticing him more since we had been here. And being in the same squad, there was no escaping him for the next three years if we both survived that long.

I’m grateful the library is rarely used by other cadets in this Quadrant. It was the one place I could find alone time with all us first years crammed into the same dorm. The one place I could let my guard down and relax. Or so I thought. The sound of the door opening pulls me from the book I’d been reading for Kaori’s class on the different dragons. Footsteps sound around the empty library as whoever it is makes their way further and further into the space. I prayed they were heading towards another spot in the library. But it seems luck was not on my side as the familiar face or Aaric rounds the corner of one of the shelves.

”Oh great, it’s you.” I say with an eye roll, turning my attention back to my book. “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

”Ouch. And here I was coming to you in peace.” He states as he walks over to me and sits down in the chair across the table from me.

”I didn’t say you could sit your highness.” I throw at him, watching as he stiffens at my words before relaxing again. We both know we’re alone, no one nearby to hear me.

”Well someone’s cranky.” He notes, leaning back in the chair as he clasps his hands and rests them in his lap.

I slam my book shut and look up at him. “And someone needs to shut up. I’m trying to study. So unless you need something, you can go.”

”I’m here to apologise.” He tells me as his green eyes pierce into me.

I cock my eyebrow at him. “You? Apologise? Didn’t think you were capable of that.”

He sighs heavily as he turns his head. “Well I am. I had to keep appearances up for my father. Treat certain people a certain way. But I don’t have to anymore. And I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I treated you before we got here. That I wish I could have treated you how I wanted to. Be your friend.”

I scoff and shake my head at him as he turns to look at me again. “Please, don’t pretend you give a shit about me.”

”I’m not pretending. Not anymore.” He tells me as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

I just stare at him, unsure how to take what he’s telling me. Part of my wants to grab my things and storm off, not believe a single word he says. But part of me wants to listen to him. Believe what he’s saying. Because part of me knows it’s true. He was never like his older brothers Alic and Halden. They were cruel and harsh, always bullying me. Something Aaric never did. He would say things to me, but nothing like his brothers. In his own way he was being kinder, but doing enough to not arouse suspicion. My family was nothing to his. My father might have been part of his father’s court, but we were nothing to him. And we’re treated as such.

I grab my book, shoving it into my pack before standing up. “Sorry Cam, but I’m going to need more than some apology to prove what you’re saying to me.” I go to walk past him, heading towards the door to take me back into the Quadrant, but he moves quickly, stepping into my path.

”What do you need then?” He asks me sternly as he looks down at me.

”Prove to me you actually didn’t want to treat me that way. Treat me like you actually want to be my friend or ask for whatever it is you want from me.” I tell him.

He furrows his brow. “Why would I want something from you?”

”Because I’m not sure why you have the sudden interest in being my friend after all these years if you don’t have some ulterior motive. Your family hasn’t given me a lot of reasons to want to trust you.” I point out, Aaric nodding his head slowly. “So prove this is not some ploy on your fathers behalf.”

Over the next few weeks Aaric does start to prove it. Not once does he treat me like he use to. Hell, we even manage to have pleasant conversations which come easier to me than I expect, which earns me a few curious looks from Sloane as she takes in mine and Aaric’s new found friendship, if that's what you could even call it. But it doesn’t last long when we’re thrown into chaos. Not even two weeks after we bond our dragons we’re thrown into being part of the rebellion. All of our squad ending up in Aretia with other fliers willing to defend Navarre from the real threat of Venin and Wyvern. And now we all had to rethink everything we’d ever been taught, meaning all of us we’re drained at the end of the day with adjusting to our new routine and relearning everything. Meaning our squad had barely had time to have some down time.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. Strange. We’d all gone to bed an hour ago, who the hell is knocking at my door at this hour? I chuck the pack I’d taken on our bonding exercise with the Fliers under my bed and walk over to the door. I pull it open, revealing Aaric whose hand is raised again to knock on my door. His bright green eyes locking onto mine immediately. I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong when he rushes forward, his hands grasping my face as he crushes his lips against mine.

I instantly melt into the kiss, hands grasping the front of his shirt as I pull him into my room as he kicks the door closed behind him. His kiss consumes me, my whole body wanting more of him, giving into the thoughts I’d had over the last few months. His hands leave my face, skimming down my body as they glide over the material of the silk night dress I’d changed into for sleep. His fingers play with the edge where it ends at the top of my thighs before grasping my thighs as he picks me up with ease before turning around. He sits on the edge of the bed, settling me in his lap as my legs settle either side of his.

I break the kiss, giggling as Aaric tries to chase my lips and growls in annoyance. He goes to object but stops when he sees me grasp the edge of the nightdress, his green eyes following my movements as I pull the material up my body, leaving me in just the matching panties as I sit in his lap. I turn my eyes back to him as I discard the material to the floor, my cheeks flushing as he just stares at me in awe. On reflex I go to cover myself up, but his hands reach out and grasp my wrists.

”Don’t.” He tells me, his voice rough and commanding. “Don’t ever cover yourself up.”

I just look at him and nod as I lower my arms, resting my hands on his shoulders as his hands caress my skin, leaving goose bumps where he’s been. I lower my hand to the edge of his shirt, Aaric leaning back to give me room to remove the material from him. I’d seen Aaric shirtless before thanks to challenges and various training sessions in the gym. But I can’t help but stare at the toned and defined muscles of his torso as I trace over them with my fingers, causing him to shiver at my touch.

My eyes meet his again, catching the slight smirk on his lips before he kisses me again. It starts off softer, slower. Almost as if he wants to savour the moment. But it doesn’t take long for it to build in intensity. A moan escaping my lips as his hands grips my hips and pull me down on him is his undoing. His fingers digging into my hip as he tilts his head and deepens this kiss as my hand rests against his neck, the other tangling in his hair. My hips rocking back and forth against his, causing his fingers to grip on to my hips tighter, to the point I’m sure they’re going to be bruised tomorrow. I yelp as he flips us over, my back hitting the bed as he looms over me before gripping the matching panties to my night dress and pulling them down my legs.

”Careful Prince, wouldn’t want someone to think you’re impatient.” I tease as he tosses them to the floor.

His eyes raise to mine as he smirks at me while pulling down the linen pants he wears before getting onto the bed, causing me to scramble back to make room for him as I lean back on my arms. He kneels between my legs, shoving them open as he settles between them.

”Trust me sweetheart, I’ve been patient.” He tells me as he looks down at me.

I open my mouth to reply, but a moan comes out instead as he glides his fingers between my legs before toying with my clit. Fucking hell.

”Seems I’m not the only one whose impatient tonight.” He teases as he continues to smirk at me.

My hands fits the sheets as he lowers his fingers and pushes them inside of me. “Fuck me.” I nearly moan out, throwing my head back as he thrusts them in and out.

”Oh, I plan to sweetheart.” He assures me, curling his fingers inside of me.

The room is filled with my moans and heavy breathing as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out, spreading them wider and wider as he goes. I whimper as he pulls them out, my body sagging at the loss of them. I yelp again as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and pulling me into a kneeling position as he settles between them, his cock rubbing against me. I cry out when he thrust in, not wasting any time as he slides all the way in, the position I’m in causing him to hit the perfect spot immediately. I’d already been close from just his fingers. There was no way I was lasting long now he was inside me. I look over my shoulder at him as I push myself up on my hands, watching as he looks down at where he slides in and out of me. His green eyes flicker up and meet mine as he bites his bottom lip. Holy shit, that was more attractive than it should be.

”Doing such a good job sweetheart.” He tells me, praising me as he continues to slam into me. “Feel so good.”

”Aaric… please.” I moan out, lowering my head as my body starts to shake, rocking my hips back and forth to meet his thrusts.

”Please what sweetheart? Use your words.” He tells me, his hands gripping my hips as I start to go limp.

”I’m c-close.” I stutter out as my arms give out, my head and upper body resting against the bed.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire, feels like it’s about to combust as I teeter on the edge. Aaric reaches around, his fingers finding my clit and applying pressure. I cry out as my body starts to shake as I tumble over the edge, Aaric drawing out my pleasure as he continues to thrust in and out while using his hand. A few moments later Aaric’s hips still as he falls forward, bracing himself above me as his hands land either side of my head. Both of us gasping for air as we come down from our high.

”You have your own room, right?” Aaric asks after a few moments.

”Y-yes.” I mutter out, doing my best to nod incase he doesn’t hear me.

”Good.”

I feel Aaric move, the bed dipping to my left before his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his side. My body instantly relaxing at his touch. I barely register him placing the blanket over us before falling asleep with my head against his chest.

[eliounora]

I've been trying to draw and feeling overwhelmed with all my ideas, and I had this thought I thought I might share. now that I've graduated and work full-time, I find myself missing drawing a lot. of course it has been my primary hobby and my most developed skill, but previously, even in university, I had more time to draw. now a lot of my time goes into necessary tasks like exercise, household chores, socialising, and resting, so while previously I might have spent my evenings staying up late and drawing, now I fall asleep before I can even start lol

though I have always liked drawing, I'm just now realising how important it is to me, which explains why I've been so frustrated with it. in the past few years, in my busy adult schedule, I've resorted to tools that make the process faster (relying heavily on references, sometimes tracing difficult parts like hands, skipping backgrounds, not even attempting challenging poses or perspectives) and while I've learned a lot, I have now reached a point where I feel both afraid to try drawing without a full reference and bored of not being able to implement my own ideas. because my end goal is to just draw something and get something drawn for the sake of it, I've lost the enjoyment of the process, and I've become too focused on the result being good. what I realised is that the bit I enjoy about drawing is the challenge, trying to get that one difficult bit right. and storytelling!

so I've decided to make more time to sit down, get back to the basics, and challenge myself! I'll even try to draw traditionally more, and somebody requested legolas and gimli, so here's a hand-drawn rough sketch of them:

[zorodrafts]

PUMPKIN DOMAIN .ᐟ ✷ ﹙sukuna﹚

⎯⎯⎯ ぉ｡ dad!sukuna × fem!reader

𝒄. pumpkin being a brat, dad!sukuna is actually patient in this ｜ 𝒈. fluff ⟢ 748 words

𖹭 notes .ᐟ hi!! ik i disappeared and all, but... i think i'm back? i can't really say that, because, i'll be honest, this blog depends on my mood, especially since i'm not that into anime anymore. but i hope you can understand and be patient with me :( i'm writing a few things so i hope you like it!

Sukuna never thought he deserved a blessing like this. Like you.

You were his angel—his perfect match. Beautiful, brilliant, kind, and endlessly patient. Somehow, you always saw the best in him, even when he struggled to see it himself. Sometimes, he wondered why you stayed. How could someone as radiant as you choose a man like him—someone with a past drenched in blood and regret?

And fatherhood? That was something he never imagined for himself. A ruthless, relentless force of nature, feared by all… reduced to this.

Which begged the question—why was he sitting cross-legged on the floor, squeezed into a dress that barely fit, his face covered in glitter (an attempt to “highlight” his markings), wearing earrings that dangled awkwardly and a tiara that kept slipping off his head? And, more importantly, why was he being bossed around by a six-year-old?

“Daddy, you’re doing it all wrong!” his daughter huffed, standing up dramatically for the fourth time that hour. “You have to hold it like this!”

He sighed, utterly defeated, shifting uncomfortably after sitting in the same spot for what felt like forever. “Pumpkin, I’m trying, but this cup is way too small for my hands.”

Tea parties were not his strong suit, but for her? He'd endure anything.

Let her paint his nails? Sure—even if more polish ended up on his fingers than his nails.

Try a new hairstyle? Fine—even if she yanked his hair so hard, he was sure she’d pluck out a few pink tufts.

Cover his markings in paint? Whatever—though the last time, she’d used the wrong type, and it took weeks to fade.

But this? This was your domain. And today, you had left him to handle it alone.

“Ugh, you’re so useless…” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Sukuna scoffed, rolling his eyes as he yanked off the tiara. “And you’re the most annoying brat I’ve ever seen. Even worse than your mother…”

“I’m a what now?”

Your voice rang through the room, and suddenly, Sukuna’s four eyes went wide.

“Mommy! Finally!” Your daughter abandoned the tea party, racing toward you and latching onto your waist. She looked up at you with big, dramatic eyes, ready to tattle. “Daddy doesn’t know how to behave at a tea party! Look—he doesn’t even know how to dress or hold the cup right!”

“I swear I’ll burn down alive whoever invented these fucking tea parties—” Sukuna muttered under his breath as he got up, yanking off the ridiculous dress.

“Language!” your daughter scolded.

“And burn alive? I thought we agreed you were done with that?” You gave him a deadpan stare. Deep down, you knew he had changed. He wouldn’t do anything reckless… not anymore. Well, unless it didn’t affected the both of you.

Sukuna strode over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist while the other gently shoved his daughter away, keeping her at a distance. Then, without hesitation, he captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Why did you take so long?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth as he guided you toward the living room—still keeping your daughter at arm’s length.

“I ran into Shoko, and we grabbed some coffee. I guess I lost track of time.” You offered him an apologetic smile, knowing you had promised to be home earlier.

He hummed, pressing his nose into your neck and inhaling your scent. “I missed you…”

“Ew! Stay away from my mommy!” your daughter shrieked before launching herself at him.

Sukuna sighed, unimpressed, effortlessly catching her by the leg and holding her upside down like a squirming fish.

“Can you not, brat?”

She gasped dramatically, sticking her tongue out. “I’m Pumpkin! Take that back!”

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter as the towering, fearsome King of Curses held his tiny daughter like a ragdoll.

“You’re a fucking brat, that’s what you are—”

“Language!” she shrieked, still trying to land a hit on him.

“Oh, and by the way,” Sukuna added, carrying her toward the bathroom. “You’re the one cleaning all this glitter off me. Got it?”

“I don’t take orders from you!”

“Oh, you bet you do. I’m still your father, you little piece of sh—”

“LANGUAGE!”

Their voices faded down the hall, their playful bickering echoing through the house. You smiled, shaking your head.

Sukuna had never imagined himself as a father, let alone this kind of father. But here he was. And deep down, you knew—he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[ficsinhistory]

Yes, I saw that scene! I don't blame Maddie, it's a very sweet gesture, I would fall for it. Not only that, judging by the way Tom reacted, he has his share of times he did this to calm Maddie down. Not many, but hey, like father like son. I really want to see more of these two and Maddie in particular.

And yes, Amy would definitely be delighted with grand romantic gestures, she's a hopeless romantic lol

And your thoughts on Amy? Immaculate op. Your mind is incredible!

I also believe Amy's history with the Metal Army is probably old and very personal. I theorize that Ivo stole one of her quills too in an invasion of her home - Little Planet - which would lead her to always approach problems thinking of the worst-case scenario. What would explain why the energy of the metal blow would be both blue and pink.

And yes, I see Amy even with all her empathy, altruism and kindness...being terrible at working in a team. Although I ser her not knowing how to work in a group is more like Amy being incredibly controlling and restrictive, a symptom of her desperately trying to keep the circumstances under control and not getting worse. Something that someone as chaotic and freedom-loving as Sonic wouldn't like.

And I begging this will be the situation.

Amy and Sonic have disagreed several times, from the oldest games to Frontiers. Amy is temperamental and has a strong personality and Sonic hates being ordered around. There will be a lot of friction and both jeopardizing each other's plans before a balance is established.

Perfect opportunity for Sonic to finally feel first-hand what it's like when a loved one throws themselves into danger without thinking twice. And on the other hand, Amy would learn that she hurts the one she wants to protect by being so reckless and daredevil.

Now, about coming from the future is an interesting theory and top tier angst. It's still too early to say anything, so every shot is valid.

My personal opinion is that Amy is actually from the present. The explosion took Ivo to the past, where he made his Metal Army, dominated Litlle Planet, and Amy was sent to live on Earth, a little after Sonic - of course, both would have no idea about each other because I love dramatic irony. She would fight with the metals from then on to prevent further interference.

And what would make her attachment issues come would be - and hear me out now - Amy knowing she won't get out of the mission alive.

My theory is that her chaos powers manifest as visions of possible futures, like a computer that calculates probabilities. However, the trauma messed up this ability of hers, always showing worst-case scenarios and basically what happens when someone functions solely on anxiety. Amy would take it at face value because of trauma and belief in fate (possibly coming from her upbringing on Little Planet).

After all, Chaos energy comes from emotions and hers would be in tatters.

This would culminate in her seeing a possible future where everything is saved but she would die. And Amy... accept it. She would live her life to the fullest based on her belief in unconditional love for all living creatures without ever forming attachments because she doesn't want the future to be harder for her or the people she would get close to.

That's where Sonic and the Wachowskis would come in. They would be a family to her and now she's devastated because she doesn't know how to tell them that there won't be a happy ending for her. That she hasn't had one for a long time. Because, as you mentioned, saving thousands of lives is more important than her and any desires she might have.

But it would be too hard to deny her own feelings. The fact that she doesn't want to die because she finally has love and family and has managed for the first time in years to not think about the imminent death that looms over her.

Tldr -> Amy's conflict is basically this part of Andor.

With Amy coming along, I can't stop thinking about the Amy-Sonic/Tom-Maddie parallels.

You know, the pink and blue scheme, Tom having a similar personality to Sonic and Amy possibly having some similarities to Maddie, Amy and Maddie possibly being two big city girls with Amy being from New York and Maddie from San Francisco while Tom and Sonic are both from Green Hills, the setup of Amy plus 3 Wachowski siblings as well as Maddie and Tom, who canonically have siblings too.

They've been foreshadowing this couple since the second movie, fight me!!

(and Tom x Maddie are the parents and couple ever, I love them!)

(Also, please give Maddie more prominence. She's awesome!)

[happypopcornprincess]

Do I have an exam tommorow? Yes.

Am I going to post a sneak peek of my WIP of Joaquin torres x reader? Yes.

Joaquin Torres WIP Sneak Peek

“Trying to hide behind the curtains again are we y/n?” Bucky’s voice made you look to your right, and there he was. Standing next to you wearing a sharp three-piece black suit, his hair slicked back.

You finally understood what Steve meant when he would say girls back then would throw themselves at Bucky.

He turned to you in disgust, “Are you checking me out?”

“You wish, asshole.” You mutter in your glass.

You and Bucky had developed an unlikely friendship after the blip bought him back. He was pardoned, and moved into a quaint apartment complex deep in the city, unknown to the fact that you lived right next to his place.

“You see Sam anywhere?” he asks you nonchalantly.

You give him a sly smirk, “Why? Can’t wait to shove your tongue down his throat?”

Bucky gives you a sideward glance, and goes back to looking at the crowd.

He was still figuring out his feelings towards both men and women, especially towards one man.

Returning from the Flag Smashers situation, he would not shut up how ‘annoying’ and ‘frustratingly righteous’ Sam Wilson is, how his smirk makes him want to ‘strangle’ him.

You asked him one evening if he was having a ‘full-on-bi-panic’ and he threw a pillow at your face.

“y/n! there you are!” Sam bellows as he walks towards the two of you, wearing a crisp grey suit over a white button up, looking as dapper as always.

“Sam!” you laugh, giving him a tight hug. He was your mentor, someone you looked up to. And hopefully your bestie’s future boyfriend.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” he threw you one of his classic smiles as he retreated.

You look down to the pastel pink knee length dress you were wearing.

Hustling the life of an avenger straight out of MIT, it was the only dress you owned. And after paying for it out of your own pocket you realize fancy dresses cost a hand and a leg, and you refuse to part from it.

“Thank you Sam I-” you were about to thank him but stopped once you noticed him absolutely gawking at Bucky.

“Hey Bucky.” He smiled.

“Hey Sam.” Bucky gave him a nod.

You almost roll your eyes at the exchange, wondering when they will move on from the weird talking phase.

“Hello.”

An angelic voice interrupted your train of thoughts. Looking away your eyes meet a pair of the warmest brown eyes. He was standing behind Sam. A tall, tan-skinned man, wearing a crisp black suit stood in front of you. His curls fell on his forehead, and his smile was intoxicating.

He looked like a high surf tide; calling out for you to test the waters.

You extend your right hand, smiling at him. “Hey, I’m y/n”

He held it with his right, it made your heart race when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, his hands warm and his lips soft, sending a jolt through your body.

Oh, he’s mischief alright!

You were left speechless when he straightened, a smirk thrown out your way as Sam spoke up, “This is the guy I told y’all about! Lt. Joaquin Torres.” He slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back, smiling with pride.

“You haven’t had a drink yet Lieutenant? Let’s get you something.” you smile involuntarily.

He stands back for you to lead the way, “Sure. And it’s just Joaquin, please.” he laughs just after, his honey laced voice paired with your tad bit hazy mind doing wonders to your imagination.

OUT NOW!

TAGLIST

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