#[darlingwrites]
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Professor Castle
Frank Castle x F!Reader
Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.
CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]
Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.
A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.
As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.
Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.
“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.
His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.
“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”
“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”
“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”
“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”
“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”
“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”
You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.
“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”
“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”
You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.
“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”
“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.
“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”
“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”
“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”
“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”
“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”
“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”
You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.
“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.
“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.
“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.
“Why are you so convinced I will?”
You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.
“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.
“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”
“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.
His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.
As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.
One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.
“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”
You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.
“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.
“Fuck yeah.”
Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.
“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”
He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.
“Yeah.”
For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.
“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.
Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.
“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.
The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.
“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.
We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.
To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.
You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.
“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.
“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.
“I missed you.”
“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”
You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.
“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.
“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.
“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.
“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.
You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.
“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.
“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”
“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”
“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”
“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”
“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”
“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.
“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”
“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”
“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”
“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”
“Yeah, you wanna come?”
“Only if you really want me there.”
“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”
“Then I'll go with you.”
You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle fanfiction#the punisher fanfiction#frank castle smut#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#jon bernthal smut#angst#smut#darlingwrites
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shock collar :)
My first @badthingshappenbingo prompt fill! This ended up being a lot longer than I intended it to lmao, but enjoy! Thanks for sending in a request~
CW: captivity, implied pet whump, electrocution, manipulation, self-loathing
Whumpee’s “good behavior” had granted them the privilege of going upstairs instead of rotting away in Whumper’s cold, musty basement. They had even been given free range of the house, and Whumper seemed ecstatic that their captive was finally warming up to their new life.
Whumpee gratefully accepted this new privilege. They’ve been on their best behavior this week: not shying away when Whumper tries to cuddle up with them, accepting any punishments with gratitude, and even going out of their way to care for their captor’s needs.
And, oh, life is so much easier when they’re not chained up in the basement. Now, the only thing acting as any kind of restraint is the shock collar around Whumpee’s neck. Whumper has used it countless times in the past as a sort of training tool, as negative reinforcement for whenever they try to talk back or disobey them. They’ve even got Whumpee trained to fear the sight of the remote, as it almost always brings pain and a lingering headache.
But it’s alright, even that has been accounted for in Whumpee’s elaborate plan to finally get out of this hell. Amidst their constant state of paranoia, Whumpee still thinks this plan is almost perfect. It has to work.
Because if it doesn’t…well, Whumpee doesn’t want to think about that.
Whumper didn’t seem to pick up on Whumpee’s scuttling each time they were left alone, and didn’t comment on how they’d been digging through drawers to locate keys and searching around for security systems or anything else that could aid them in an escape attempt. They didn’t appear to see through Whumpee’s risky attempt at manipulation, and even right now, they don’t stir as Whumpee slips the shock collar’s remote from a sleeping Whumper’s nightstand drawer. This way, if they do wake up, at least they won’t be able to turn the collar on.
Hope flutters in Whumpee’s chest as they swiftly tiptoe down the hall, into the living room, and towards the front door. One hand holds the key to the front door (Whumper had made it a point to tell Whumpee that they had removed the inside lock in preparation for their new life upstairs). The other hand shakes violently and feels clammy as it grips the shock collar remote--but not too tightly. Whumpee’s heart hammers as they think about the possibility of accidentally triggering it…but they don’t want to put it in their pocket, because then they could shift and it would go off and everything would be painful.
It’s alright, the shocks will be over soon. Whumpee is getting out.
They squeeze their eyes shut as they reach for the door handle, as if touching it would set off their collar. They knew it wouldn’t--shock collars didn’t work like that, and the remote was right here. And nothing happened, anyways! They’re fine.
Whumpee flings the door open and feels a breeze of crisp night air for the first time in…had it really been a few months now? It feels so nice, but Whumpee snaps themself back to the present. They have to go, now.
Whumpee doesn’t make it one step out onto the front porch before the prongs in their collar crackle to life.
They immediately lose their balance, crying out in pain as their body is wracked with shocks at the highest setting. But they had gotten the remote--how was the collar going off? They dropped it anyways, their fingers instead moving to claw at the painful sensation crawling up their neck and into their head. Get it off get it off get it off!
But their twitching hands can’t seem to grasp the collar, and they can’t get it off even if they tried. Why didn’t they try to take it off first? Stupid echoes through their mind and they can’t focus on anything else through the pain.
They don’t know how long they lay there writhing on the front porch. But at some point, they realize they need to go, they have to try, or else Whumper’s gonna get them and punish them and this is so painful they just want it to stop. Through everything, their adrenaline pushes Whumpee to their elbows and they attempt to crawl towards the front lawn.
They whimper as another wave of shocks rush through their body and hear a chuckle sounding from above them. No, they must be hallucinating, they have to under this much pain, right? Please let this be a hallucination.
Whumpee glances up to see Whumper looking down over their twitching form. Nononono, Whumpee tries to back away, but the shocks only seem to get worse and they cry out in pain. They shake their head, try to will themselves to ignore their convulsing muscles and run, but they can’t move, they can’t think. It’s too much.
“Oh, darling, look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” Whumper tuts, and Whumpee learned months ago that they find Whumpee’s pain amusing. In that way, Whumpee has played right into their hand. “Let’s get you back to your room, yeah?”
“N-n-no…” Whumpee whimpers in the first form of defiance they’d shown in weeks, ever since they started cooking up this little plan of theirs. So much for freedom. “...don’ wanna go back.”
“Whumpee.” Their captor’s voice snaps, all prior amusement morphing into stern impatience. “Let’s go. You’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood.”
Whumpee lets out a sob. As if that’s what they’re really worried about right now.
Whumpee should scream. They should be doing everything they can to wake up the neighbors as a last-ditch attempt to escape whatever punishment Whumper has in mind. Maybe the neighbors could help, call the police, send someone to investigate Whumpee and find them. But through the waves of pain and months of conditioning, Whumpee can’t make themselves carry out their plan. They just want their neck to stop searing. Why did they ever think this was a good idea?
“Whumpee, now. You’ve already lost upstairs privileges, do you want to lose more?”
Whumpee shakes their head, the movement made even jerkier due to the shocks continuing to wrack Whumpee’s body. “N-no more, please.”
“Then let’s go. You have five seconds to get up and walk back inside.”
Whumpee whimpers. The shocks are too much--they can’t get up!
“One…” Whumper sighs, “Two…”
What other privileges could they lose? They were already going back to the basement, back to no comfort or freedom to move around as they please. This collar was already bad enough…
“Three…”
Despite everything, Whumpee wills themself to stand. They try to take a step forward, but Whumpee’s legs give out from under them as their muscles convulse and they stumble. But this time, Whumper catches them. They’re led back into the house, and then everything stops. The pain is gone, save for the lingering aftershocks and muscle spasms that Whumpee has gotten used to after months of being shocked into submission.
Whumper pockets the remote, seemingly having turned off the collar. There was an off button this whole time?! Whumpee had been so stupid. They thought they had planned everything, that it had to work. Whumpee even took the remote and they dropped it after the shocks started. So there’s no way that they could've accidentally held the button for that long, and there’s no way Whumper would have been able to activate it without the remote…right?
“Good pet,” Whumper coos and lets Whumpee lean on them. Their voice is filled with disappointment as they add, “I’m really glad I bought that invisible fence. I had hoped that it wouldn't be necessary…but clearly, you still need some more training.”
Whumpee’s breath hitches. Invisible fence? Like the ones that…that shock dogs if they try to run off of their owner’s property? Their face falls as they realize that as long as this collar is on, they won’t be able to leave this house.
Whumper drags Whumpee towards the basement door and tears prick at the corners of their eyes. They failed. They’re never getting out of this place, are they?
#shock collar#escape attempt#whump#whump writing#pet whump#whump drabble#bad things happen bingo#darlingwrites#whumpsday#bthb card#yandere whumper#captivity#ive been wanting to write a yandere/pet whump story and this might have been the catalyst we'll see
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🥂 the f1 boys... getting spoiled by them
MEET THE CAST. CL 16 ◦ CS 55 ◦ LN 4 ◦ MV 1
VIDEO DESC. this one was requested by a lovely reader ! thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy !! my inbox is almost always open so please don't hesitate to drop by. rules for requesting are here . [ note! currently just burned through this while feeling a bit under the weather, if there are spelling mistakes, trust that i'll fix them in the morning. ]
SHOUT OUTS. [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], [@dallaavv, @nichmeddar, @sisinever] IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !
ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CHARLES LECLERC 16
" he who buys out entire stores for you "
spoilt in riches
"mon amour ! " [ my love ] the sound of your boyfriends chirpy voice made you smile and place your book down on the side table by the sofa.
" in here . "you reply, walking over to the living room entryway, prepared to welcome him back with a hug, but as you approached him and opened your arms, a sharp jab hit your ribs which made you stumble back.
"charles ?" you arch your brow at him, planting your hands on your hips as he grinned wider, showing off the multiple, high-end bags that hung from his enclosed fists, " what is this ? "
Charles crossed over to the center table, placing down the bags with little care and turned to finally loop and arm around your waist, " well, y'know how alex had asked me and the guys to help with anniversary shopping for Lily ?"
you hummed, finally tearing your eyes away from the silk and lace that peeked out of the thick cardboard, " honey..." you began warnigly, already knowing where this was going.
" ce n'est pas ma faute ! " [ it isn't my fault. ] he defended, his eyes darting to the front door anxiously bouncing between your face and the already opening hallway, " we just kept going and going and going- " he enunciated with his hands, rolling them over eachother, "and going, it was too tempting. "
Charles held his hands up and watched, amused, as you sifted through the shopping, eyes widening comically as you got a peak at the price tags, " Charles ! " you hissed.
" what ? " he answered back, more focussed on his friends who were barrelling into the apartment, each of them carrying atleast 5 bags each.
Max was the first to plumet the boutique carriers down, hufffing whilst flopping onto the couch, " man, charles, you- " he weazed, "- you have a problem. i think i tore something . " he whined, holding his side.
charles blew air through his lips and flipped his hand at the dutchman, " you're a world champion. walk it off. "
you grimaced at max, who just stared at your boyfriend with an open mouth, " he's right darling, this is too much. "
Lando, Carlos and Alex all followed soon after, added to the pile with multiple trips back and forth to what you assumed to be an armed tank full of your boyfriend's precarious spending.
"charles- it's still going..." you huffed, offering a lemon water bottle to a certain spaniard who was drentched in sweat and sniffing his fingers.
carlos smiled at you briefly, chugging the electrolyte before gasping and slumping back, "dammit, maldito infierno, my hands smell like all those tuity fruity shops you dragged us to. " [ fucking hell ]
"you're a millionare, buy some hand wash. " charles answered back, shrugging his shoulders. he lifted carlos up and pushed him out the door to retrieve more bags.
" charlie, tell me how many more bags there are ? " you gestured around your space, already overtaken with more than millions of euros worth of shopping, " i mean, this is excessive. there's jewellery, shoes, dresses, tops. where should i wear all of this ? "
charles stuck his tongue out at you with faux-confusion before cupping your cheeks and planted a wet kiss on your nose, " we'll just have to go out more often. "
rolling your eyes, you returned his affection, winding your hands around his waist before reaching up and plucking absent-mindedly at his shirt, " yeah- now you got a good excuse ... " you trailed off, biting your lip, " but it bothers me, i can afford this too y'know. it feels so.. odd. "
" what's odd about it ? dis-moi, je vais le réparer " [ tell me, i'll fix it ] his thumbs rubbed comfortingly at your cheeks.
" i don't know- this is all your money, it makes me feel indebted to you, almost guilty . " you bite your lip and grasp his wrists, not wanting him to be hurt by your words and pull away entirely.
though, to your surprise, charles hummed and pulled your closer, resting his chin on your head whilst peppering his lips across your hair, " i understand mon chéri, but, i like spoiling you, it's my way of showing you that i love you. i would never expect something back from you, not this way atleast. " [ my daring ] he paused and looked around him, "think of it as a personifaction of my love ? "
you bit your lip and nodded up at him, your chest warming at the content glint in his eye and enamoured smile he wore, he brought his thumb up to your chin and pulled your lip free before leaning down and brushed his mouth against yours.
his lips worked in tandem with yours, pouring his affection into his movements whilst his hands came up to brush through your hair and pull you impossibly closer.
" - ehm ehm "
" oh come on, how come they get to sex it up here, while we're hauling ass ? "
" - SIMP ! "
a miriad of complaints erupted behind the pair of you, forcing you both apart with a surprised jolt. charles groaned and dropped his hands away from you, gearing up to whip his friends into shape, that was until you put a hand up to stop him and appraoched the trio yourself.
" come on guys, i'm sorry about all this ... " you apologised and smiled brightly, " i really owe you one ! "
a choked sound came from charles, who stood in awe at how these seasoned professionals melted at your sunny expression and merely walked into the house to drop the last of the bags in with not one complaint.
" bye guys, thank you so much ! " you thanked them, waiting until the electronic beep of the lock secured the door closed and allowed you to stare at the final salad heap of the shopping.
charles walked up behind you, ensnaring your waist with his hands before pressing your back against his chest, "show me your ways, princesse , they never listen to me. " [ princess ] he kissed a line up and down the column of your neck, smirking against your skin when you shivered and leaned your head against his shoulder.
" i could show you something else.." you mumurred, placing your hands over his fingers that laid flat against your stomach before lacing them together, "... i could show my love for you, in a different way . " you blinked coquetteishly up at him, fluttering your eyelashes as he growled playfully and coaxed a delighted squeal from you when he picked you up, legs flailing in the air.
ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CARLOS SAINZ 55
" he who showers you in emotion "
spoilt in vehemence
" Te amo querida " carlos whispers against your cheek, his hand resting on your hip as you leaned into his hold and watched his back when he detached to walk away, towards his motorhome. He turned around and smiled at you, blowing a kiss dramatically.
" god, you guys are so cute... " alexandra mumurred, grinning like a cheshire as you returned his dramatics with an over the top play of his kiss shooting you in the heart.
" yeah... " you agreed, blinking your eyes quickly to exit the rosy haze that overtook your eyes.
" i wish charles would be so open with his love ... " she twirled the straw in her cup as her chin dug into her palm, eyes tranfixed on her own parter who felt her gaze and smiled shyly at her.
you tilted your head at her, " we're not that open . "
alex arched a brow, " really ? "
flashback # 1
the bass boost of the club made your ears ring and lean into carlos' chest, hands slapped over the sides of your face.
He glanced down at you, " you okay, mi vida ? " [ my life ]
you nodded, leaning forward cheekily to take the straw of his drink into your mouth and sip the alcoholic drink with a satisfied hiss, " so good . " thumbs up-ing him.
locking his eyes on your dazed, flushed face, his gaze softened when you laughed loudly at a joke that kika had just drunkenly attempted to tell.
" you're staring . " you shout over the music after you had caught your breathe, " someone would think that you're weird . "
carlos hummed thoughtfully, fingers pinching your chin gently as he leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek , " let them, i'm sure they'll understand when they see how beautiful you look tonight. "
arching away from his mouth you roll your eyes and loop your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you, " yeah yeah- i think you're prettier, Que guapo eres " [ how handsome you are ]
flashback #2
you stared at yourself in the mirror, twisting on your spot whilst watching the silky fabric skim your ankles and flow like liquid gold from your hips.
" honey, estas lista ? " [ are you ready ] carlos loomed into the walk in wadrobe, eyes widening at your reflection, his hand slipped briefly from its spot planted ont the white wood door of the room until he caught himself and cleared his throat.
you giggled at his reeaction, hands running along the length of the apparrel before coming up to your neck and adjusting the dainty necklace that slinked down to your cleavage that lay exposed from the deep ' v ' cut.
" do i look okay ? " you tilted your head at him in the mirror, humming contently when he came up from behind and bunched his hands up on your hips, fingers swimming in the slinky fabric.
" Pareces una diosa, caída de una gota de sol y regalada desde el cielo. " [ you look like a goddess, fallen from a drop of sunshine and gifted to me from the heavens ] he twirled you around, hand raised high above your head, guiding you in delicate circles and bringing you closer to his chest before linking your hands together. he stared down at you, chuckling when you displayed the shimmery glitter on your eyelids.
your chin rested on his button down shirt as you snorted and began to fiddle with his fingers, " you flatter me , señor . "
" rightfully so, señora " he bumped your noses together, smiling widely.
" yeah okay, we are open . " you grumbled.
alex chuckled at your expression, pinching your cheek playfully before sighing, " lucky you ."
" hey, " you rested a hand on hers that sat on the table, " charles loves you, i've seen it alex, it's like you hung the moon and stars when he looks at you ."
she brightened at you words, flipping her palm to hold you hand and squeeze it hopefully, " really ? "
nodding, you squeezed back " yeah, really . "
" it's nothing like you two though, it's so... surreal to watch him fall in love with you, every time he looks at you . " alexandra gushed.
you blushed and waved a hand infront of your face, " then we both got lucky . "
" we really did ."
ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ LANDO NORRIS 4
" he who attaches you at the hip "
spoilt in prescence
" damn man, you can let her breathe . " oscar leans to the side, eyebrows jumping up his forehead as he takes in the scene before him.
Lando, arms wrapped like an anaconda around your neck and in turn tucking your head into his chest whilst you had your hands burried beneath his t-shirt, wrapped around his bare waist.
" no " you protested, already snuggling closer to him, " i need him in my veins ."
oscar huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his head as lando nodded definitevely and patted your head, " ya'll are on some other crack . "
" whatever floats your boat oscie . " you call out as the driver walks away from the pair of you.
" in your veins, huh ? " lando smirked down at you, tucking his chin back to lay his forehead against yours.
" yeah ." you harrumph, biting his noise, " you got a problem with that ? "
" no ma'am ."
" good"
" you guys need to let it up . " a third voice interupted your bickering. Lando's pr manager stood to the side of you, arms crossed over one another.
" aw come on glenda, it's not that bad ." lando pouted, laying his cheek on your head.
" it's constant. "
you snorted at her, " well thats a bit unne- "
" constant . "
lando stood taller, " okay then, smarty pants, give us 2 reasons why we should stop being affectionate. i mean you've seen all the other couples, i don't see why you- "
" number 1 " glenda interrupted again with a singular finger pointed up.
instance #1
" so lando, todays race obviously went well, with you coming P3 and the ferrari's scoring a 1-2 finish. can you walk as through what exactly was going on during the battle for 3 rd with perez ? "
lando nodded, grinning cheerfully as he wiped some sweat from his upper lip, " right, well, the race did you amazingly well- umph !"
he surged backwards from the force that had come into contact with his chest.
" i'm so proud of you lando, " you jumped up and down in his dizzy hold as he shook his head and attempted to steady himself. though, you ignored that when you burried your hands in his hair and dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him passionately.
just as your tongue came to run over the seam of his lips and his hands tightened around your waist, the interviewer tapped lando cautiously on the shoulder and sheepishly requested that they continue.
you sighed and detached from lando, who was also blinking back into reality. you laced your arm around his waist and leaned into his side, prompting the blushing interviewer to continue.
"- so you're just gonna stay like that ? "
both you and lando looked at one another and looked at the man infront of you.
" okay then. " he conceded and listened to lando's response.
" oh come on glenda, mark didn't even care ." you whined, stomping your feet.
" he had a nosebleed. "
lando snorted, " he has the structural integrity of wet seaweed, mark should never be trusted not to get a nosebleed. "
" stop shitting on mark. " glenda deadpanned, " number 2"
instance #2
" the aerodynamics on turn 2 were absolutly of the charts, how did you do that ? " an engineer turned away from the computer to glance at lando, who was leaned against a table but had got up to approach the data.
" i'm not sure.. but has anyone seen my girlfriend ? " lando wondered out loud, looking down at his phone.
" she left a few minutes ago, " another passing worker commented before walking away towards the other side of the garage.
" what ? why didn't anyone tell me ? she's a small human, it's easy for her to get hurt ? or fall down a man hole, or any hole in general, holes are the enemy here. " he rambled, already calling your cell hurriedly.
" why are we talking about holes ? " you call out, picking at your nails.
lando perked up and ran at you, arms wrapping around your chest as he picked you up and instictively you locked your legs around his waist.
" oh god, you're safe. "
" i went to take a shit lando ." you tapped his head comfortingly nonetheless.
" take me next time. " he mumbled into your chest.
" what ? "
" i don't see a problem with it glenda" lando shrugged
" we had to call HR, you said 'holes' 5 times" glenda gestured to your intertwined limbs and flicked her hand at the two of you.
" well holes are dangerous, especially for me, broke my nose cause of a hole once. " you defended, unravelling from your defeated boyfriend.
" yeah holes are super dangerous, who's going to protect her from all the holes in the world ? the world's holes are dangerous, glenda. "
" someone call steve from HR ! "
ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ MAX VERSTAPPEN 1
" he who demonstrates his affection "
spoilt in action
" i'm home ! " you call out, dropping your bag onto the floor and groaning as you kick off your heels.
max padded out to the living room, grimacing as your shoulders popped before approaching you and kissing your cheek, "hoe gaat het met je mijn liefste ? " [ how are you my love ] he stroked your face gently before taking your hand in his and began to run his thumb up and down your knuckles.
" i feel like a bus hit me, " you laid your head on his sturdy shoulder, " then backed up on me, and then a pack of rabid wolves humped my head ."
" creative ." max hummed, chuckling when you pouted at him, " i..." he started, cheeks heating up precariously, " i did something for you, cause i know that work has been hard lately. "
cooing, you let him guide you out of the living room and into your bedroom, " here. "
he handed you a soft robe, " you gotta take off your clothes. "
" yeah, i know ." you snickered, gesturing for him to unbotton your shirt as you worked on your long slacks.
Max's fingeerr's shook against your freshly exposed skin when he pushed the shirt off, despite this, he trailed kisses along your shoulders, moving from the left towards your sternum before reaching your right side.
your breathing slowed, body finally relaxing against his gentle motions as you brought a hand up to thread through his hair. he dragged down your bra strap whilst dancing one of his hands up from the back of your waist to pop open the clasp, and although his eyes darkened at the sight of your breasts, the fingers that trailed down your skin were gentle and caring, kneading the tension out of them.
eventually, you were so relaxed that your eyes had fluttered shut and max had to coax the robe onto your slumped shoulder to usher you into the bathroom.
" oh max," you gasped, taking in the transformed space, aroma therapy candles littered the free surafaces, wafting a sweet pungent scent into the air that mixed into a melodious fusion of smells that escaped froom the steaming bathtub, the water within stained a sleepy blue.
he had set up a simple projector onto thee ceiling, producing relaxing views of a nebula onto the once plastered, white area.
" its so lovely, you're amazing, " you pulled him close and kissed his similng mouth, pouring yourr adoration into the melding of your lips together.
" you deserve it, mijn perfecte vrouw" [ my perfect woman ] max replied, sitting you down on the chair that laid perfectly infront of the mirror, he leant forward aand retrieved your brush before stroking the bristles through your hair with the utmost care.
he took his time, de-tangling your chaotic mane until it calmed down to a tamed waterful, running down your back, " wow, your hair is so smooth ." he commented, bringing his head down to run his nose through the silky strands. chuckling, you splayed your hand against the back of his neck.
"next step," he whispered to himself, takinng another familiar bottle from the coounter, " you use this hair oil, right ? "
"when did you get to know this ? " you mock-gasped, " it was my best kept secret."
" i called my sister. "
" yeah that checks out."
max took the oil onto his fingers, heating up the liquid between the pads of them before running his hands against your scalp to massage in the nutrients.
after the numerous steps that had to be completed to perfection, he moved you towards the still steaming bath.
" you're getting in too right ? " you asked, as if it were obvious whilst tugging at the bow that wasa tied lazily around your waist.
"well... i didn't plan on it." max shrugged.
" i want you to," you stepped towards him, pushing away the robe from your shoulders and let the material pool at your feet, " please ? "
" you play dirty, Schatje " [ sweetheart ] max groaned, letting you pull at his clothes until he was in the same state of undress that you were in.
giggling, you take his hand and let him submerge you into the water, " yeah, but you love it, " you stick your tongue out at him.
" yes, i do, " he conceeded, pressing his lips against your forehead as he joined you in the warmth, snuggling behind you and pulling your hips up- into his lap, " but i'm washing your hair, i did not let my sister yap my ear off for nothing. "
you rest your head against his shoulder, neck tilted so you could admire his face, bringing a hand up you trace his side profile softly, " i would expect nothing less. " you whisper.
#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 blurb#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1blr#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc blurb#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz blurb#lando norris imagine#lando norris#lando norris fluff#lando norris blurb#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen blurb#[darlingwrites]
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Talk to me ?
PAIRINGS: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader
GENRE: Mature (Smut)
MUSIC: Aquainted by The Weeknd
CONTAINS: College au, enemies to lovers
SMUT WARNINGS: Oral (f recieving), heavy groping, phone sex (she's on the phone whilst getting some.), squirting, Minho being innocent bad boy. please message me if i misseed anything.
WORD COUNT: 2,969
A/N: Numero 2! bad boy with a heart of gold lee know is a weakness of mine. Please send some love for my work <333
You always hated Lee Know, the confident asshole would always sit on your right- always on your fucking right. Be it in class, or in the library where you were trying to study-anywhere you were trying to have some peace and quiet- there he was. With his gang of troublemakers, covered in tattoos and deliciously styled in a way that made you secretly clench your thighs together.
But you could never let him know, you just had to grind your teeth and let him do what he wanted because what could you do? It was a public space, anyone could do whatever they wanted as long as they were quiet. So you opted to ignore him, trying not to let his dangerous pull ensnare you, like many of his other victims.
That was until the day your teacher had asked you and him to stay back, it was a tuesday.. Phycology 101. And there he was- standing in front of the teacher’s desk, head turned back lazily, an expectant look in his eyes whilst you packed your bag- taking your own sweet ass time. Slowly you reached your professor, a sweet woman who would always give you a shiny A+ on every assignment, like every other course teacher you had.
‘-I need you to tutor him.’ You had tuned out the rest of the sentence your professor was saying, mainly because you were definitely not staring at the man next to you- how does someone so annoying have such a pretty side profile..Wait what?
‘Tutor..him?’ you pointed at Minho who was smirking at you,
‘Yes Miss Y/N. Will it be a problem?’ Your teacher was looking at you with such kind eyes, and who were you to say no to someone, a professor no less.
‘I would be happy to Miss.’ You said through your fake smile, your teeth had begun to dry out with how long your face had been fixed in the position.
‘Lovely! I’ll let you two discuss the details-’ She clapped her hands together before shifting her gaze to Minho, ‘-And you, I want to see a real improvement. You’re doing so well in your other classes, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Especially with such a wonderful teacher.’ Your teacher grinned at you, ‘Off you go now, my next class is about to begin!’
As you walked down the crowded hallways of the science block, you were trying to ignore the large presence following you around, hoping that with the many twists and turns you took- he would get the picture and leave you alone.
Soon enough you had reached the girls dormitory, the old vintage architecture always made you calm and serene, imagining the fancy women with beautiful dresses roaming the sidewalks when the university didn’t exist. How badly you wanted to be like them, rich and powerful so effortlessly..
‘Ahem, Ahem’ The coughing noise made you stop in your tracks, you hardly noticed Minho following you, assuming he would stop tailing you like a lost dog. Groaning underneath your breath, you turned on your heel,
‘What?’ You supported your books on one hand as you flipped your hair off your shoulder,
‘Well, when are you free?’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, swaying on the sole of his shoes. God you hated the way his hair billowed out, like a fucking cotton candy- how badly you wanted to take a stick and just-
‘Here- take my number, text me later.’ Once again his movements created an obstacle in your train of thought as he took a pen out of your open pouch and scrawled a few digits onto a scrap piece of paper sticking out from your notebook, placing the pen back in its position- he reached out and tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, ‘Don’t miss me too much sweetheart’ You flinched away from his touch, the pads of his fingers against your skin causing a spark of electricity to travel through you.
‘I won’t’, you gritted out from behind your teeth as you watched his retreating figure stop in front of the boys dormitory and begin conversation with one of his friends, ‘Asshole..’ you pushed the door open and sighed as the air conditioned foyer welcomed you in from the heat. Opening the small chit of paper he rested on top of the stack of books in your arm, you sat down on the common room couch. Quickly, you typed in the number into your phone- wanting to get any sense of him away from your person as swiftly as possible. Throwing away the chit in a nearby trash can, you started the treacherous trek of climbing around 5 flights of stairs to your dorm.
It was later the same day, and you had texted the devil himself to meet you in your dorm to begin classes. Since your last meeting with him, you had changed out of your white sweater and black skirt into some old night shorts and a spaghetti strap, along with switching out your contacts with a pair of glasses- but you kept your hair done, a long ponytail adorned with a purple bow clipped on at the rubber band. Lord knows how long that took you in the morning.
Around 6pm, there was a knock on your door- and there he was, in all of his glorious asshole-ness. One arm leaning on the top of your doorframe, another loosely holding onto the strap of his bag- he wore a long black top with grey sweatpants…
Of course he owns grey sweatpants, would he be your most stunning nightmare if he didn’t?
‘Can I come in, or do you need more time to eye-fuck me?’ He smiled at your stunned expression, removing his hand from the doorframe to step closer to you- scanning your face with a piercing gaze.
‘Whatever..’ Clearing your throat, you took a step away from him- giving him space to enter your room. You close the door, keeping your hand on the cold metal doorknob hoping that it will cool down the heat that had swept over your body. Maybe you should open a window?
‘You can sit there for now, next time we’ll meet up in the library,’ A hum of acknowledgement came from behind you. You made your way to the man who was now making himself comfortable on your plush bed, ‘Nice room princess, very.. clean’ he drawled as you sat in front of him and the open textbook in between you both- you scoffed at his comment, ‘Thanks, I guess.’
You brought your own book onto your lap, starting off with the very basics, ‘The first topic in our syllabus is the problem of intuition- it's pretty simple. Look’ You took a highlighter and began to explain meticulously every word in front of him, making sure to stop and answer his questions- if he had any.
This same stop and start procedure kept going for about 1 hour, and Minho was doing surprisingly well, he was attentive, asked all the right questions and answered yours with perfection every single time.
Though, you did catch him looking at you instead of the textbook. But that was a coincidence. That’s what you told yourself the last 4 times it happened,
‘Are you even listening to me?’ you asked him, annoyance evident in your tone, looking up at him from your hunched position over the very neon yellow highlighted text.
‘Yes, obviously I am listening to you Y/N’ He responded, equally annoyed,
‘Well, it doesn’t look like it.’ You straightened your back- squinting your eyes at him.
‘What is your problem with me?’ he threw his hands up, before crossing them over his chest- leaning back against your headboard, ‘I don’t talk to you, and you're annoyed with me. I talk to you, somehow I'm the asshole. What have I even done to you?’ He asked, accusation dripping from his words.
You climbed off the bed, ‘Because..’ you trailed off, for once in your life, you were at a loss for words, ‘Because you annoy me.’
‘Wow, and here I was thinking that you’re smart.’
‘Rude, it’s just-’ it was your turn to fling your arms in the air, ‘You’re annoying. You always pick at my hair, always make fun of my clothes. So, I just started being equally mean to you’
He gaped at you, ‘Firstly, I don’t pick at your hair- it was one time, and I was complimenting you,’ He brought one finger up, like he was checking off boxes in his mind, ‘And secondly, I have never made fun of your clothes- I think you look nice in them.’ he brought up the second finger, before looking back up at you.
‘Yeah, sure,’ you placed you hands on your hips, scrunching up the soft cotton material adorning your body, ‘Whenever you talk to me, you just use the same cheap pick-up lines that you use on all of the other girls you fuck’
His eyes widened in understanding, ‘You’re..jealous’
‘No- no I am not jealous.’ You aren't jealous, you were never that type to get jealous, especially over a guy you never had, ‘You’re just excruciatingly- Ugh’ you groaned, burying your head into your palms, ‘Forget it- where were we..’
You tried to clamber back onto the bed, but he was in your way- standing in front of you, following the steps you took trying to go around him, ‘Move, we still have another half of the-’ you stopped mid sentence when he crooked his index finger under your chin, guiding your head up to meet his eyes, ‘W-what are you doing..’
‘Just admit that you’re jealous.. And I’ll give you what you want’ he smirks, dragging his lips over your cheek- leaving a burning path in their wake. Holy shit.
Your breath hitches, ‘I will do no such thing,’ you were going for firm, but whatever just came out of your mouth was breathless, whiny. Just what he wanted.
‘Come on Princess, I know you want to..’ he had moved to your ear, nibbling on the soft cartilage. Just when you were teetering on the edge of succumbing to his mind games, your phone rang- the ringtone echoing around both of you.
You cursed under your breath- it was 7:30, your father always calls you at 7:30. On a tuesday. And if you didn’t pick up, there would be a heap of messages for you to answer in the next 10 minutes.
You rushed over to your phone, sliding the call button over and holding it up to your ear, ‘Hey dad…’ you looked up to Minho who was boring holes into your face, you held your finger up to your lips- narrowing your eyes at him when he approached you at your desk.
You stifle a gasp when he connects his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin- teasing it between his teeth, ‘Yeah, nothing- nothings wrong. How’s mum?’ you mumble into the phone, before rolling your eyes back when he drags one strap off your shoulder, planting a kiss onto the sensitive skin.
You hear him snicker against your shoulder before doing the same to the other side, you shoot daggers down at him. Trying to will him to stop before you end up giving your father a very inappropriate memory- but the man doesn’t get the message and pulls your tank top up from the hem, stopping just below your breasts.
Exposing your stomach and shoulders to the chilly air in your room, whilst keeping your breasts covered by the remaining fabric, Minho gets down on his knees in front of you- looking up into your hooded eyes, looking for any signs of inhibition- but all he can see are your cheeks flushed with colour and blown out pupils.
Painfully slow, he brought his face closer to your stomach- leaving wet kisses everywhere. Man, he is such a fucking tease. You lean back, resting your ass on the side of your desk whilst your free hand grips the wood so hard it looks like it’s about to crack; lolling you head up, you felt your brain getting fuzzy so much so that you almost missed what your father was saying on the other end of the phone, ‘Hmm, what dad? No, no I am not distracted. No please don’t go get mum- dad!’ you groan heavily as the familiar hold music blares into your ear.
You gaze down at Minho, snarling when he starts drag his fingers around the waistband of your shorts- cupping your hand over the microphone, you bring your head low enough so you can hiss, ‘Don’t you fucking dare..’
He shoots you a cheeky grin before roughly pulling them down your legs, he pushes you further into the desk- forcing you to sit on the smooth dark wood. Just as you were about to curse at the personified version of horny, your mother’s shrill voice screeches out of the speaker, ‘Darling, your father tells me you don’t sound well. Should we come by to visit?’ You open your mouth to answer, just as Minho leaves an open mouth kiss on your panties- just over your leaking sex.
You bite your knuckle as your parents continue to bombard you with unrecognisable words, honestly. You couldn’t care less about whatever your parents were going on about when Lee fucking Know was in between your legs kissing the sensitive part of your thighs, teasing you to the point where there was now a visible dark patch on the crotch of your underwear.
‘Mhm yea sure mum, you can come by tomorrow. No I am not trying to get rid of you- no mother I still love you-’ you hold the phone away from your ear so that you are not subjected to the shrieks of your beloved parents.
You glance back down at Minho who was now prodding the wet cotton with his finger, he curled an eyebrow up at you. And as much as you wanted to tell him, ‘No you beautiful bastard, I do not want you to finger me senseless whilst I am on the phone to my parents,’ you just whimpered and nodded you head down at him- sighing in relief when he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his long, middle finger until the knuckle.
‘Y/N? Y/N can you hear me, see I told you- we should never have let her stay in the dorms.’ You grit your teeth as your mother threw around these accusations.
Sighing in frustration you cut the call- deciding to deal with the ramifications later, you moaned out loud when he curled his finger upward, ‘Please..’ Minho wretched his gaze away from your dripping cunt, ‘Please what sweetheart? Gotta tell me what you want..’ he smirked up at you, damn him and his smirk, sighing in frustration you gripped his soft strands and whispered out into the silence, ‘Want you to finger me senseless, then fuck me into oblivion’ you smiled down at his stunned expression, before choking on a moan when he added a second finger into you- providing you with a sinful stretch.
‘Well, well, well. All it takes is me fucking you senseless? Shoulda told me that earlier, dirty little slut..’ he breathes out a chuckle against your pubic hair as he drags himself up to your face, keeping his fingers stuffed within you.
Slotting himself between your legs, he connects both your lips into a messy, heated kiss- you felt his tongue caress yours poisoning you with the sweetest venom. Pulling away, you groan when his fingers start moving at a brutal pace- gripping his loose shirt, you slip your hands underneath, revelling in the small divots and bumps his toned stomach contain, ‘Holy shit-’ you gasp out resting your head on Minho’s shoulder,
‘Nuh uh, want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum around my fingers..’ you loll your head up, before reaching the tight fabric around your breasts down, exposing them to his ferocious gaze- bringing one of your hands off your desk, you roll your perky nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger, ‘Fuck Fuck- Minho please, please lemme cum. Wanna cum for you..’ you babble incoherent sentences against his lips, praying to whichever god is willing to answer you that he lets you cum, ‘Oh God..’ you bite down on his lip, revelling in his deep moan when you draw the smallest amount of blood.
He pulls away, ‘Not God, baby- Lee Minho’ his deep growl paired with him harshly pressing the heel of his palm against your clit sends you off the edge, like a rubber band pulled to taut. You snap. It feels like you're on cloud 9, you sag against him- twitching and breathing heavily; you feel wrung out of all energy.
Until Minho uses his thumb to roll your puffy clit underneath the pad of his large finger, ‘Shit-’ you jerk up, rutting and rolling your hips into his harsh movements, ‘Ngh, No- no stop. It hurts..’ You whimper loudly, he ignores your cries when he feels your walls clamping down on his fingers; bringing his mouth up to your ear, ‘Imagine how good my cock would feel inside you..’ he pistons his fingers inside of you, curling them up- finding the spongy place inside of you that catapults you out of the heavens and straight to hell. You convulse around his fingers strongly, whining when you feel your thighs sprayed with liquid, ‘Jesus christ sweetheart.’ He trails off, you try to open your eyes but slump down onto your desk- resting your back against the cool surface, you laugh into the heavy air when he mutters, ‘Should’ve got you to talk to me sooner..’
#stray kids smut#lee know smut#lee know fanfiction#lee know fanfic#skz smut#lee know x reader#minho x reader#minho fanfic#minho fic#minho smut#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz fanfiction#skz fic#skz fanfic#[darlingwrites]#straykidsland#Spotify
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Chocobros Favorite Flowers (Noctis)
Roses
Noctis had basically had his favorite flower picked for him.
He’d been surrounded by roses since he was a kid. They were everywhere, at parties, in the garden, at weddings or any other formal event. They had never seemed important to him—they seemed like an everyday occurrence.
It wasn’t until the day he showed Prompto the palace gardens that he thought anything special of them. First it was the sunflowers, and Prompto looked so awed by them that Noctis knew he had to get this boy sunflowers one day, and then it was the roses.
They’d just been casually walking through the garden that Prompto stopped him, grabbed his camera, told him not to move. Noctis didn’t understand at first, but he did as he was told, allowing Prompto take pictures of him as he wanted, only realizing that he’d been in front of the rosebushes when Prompto was finished.
This continued for years. Whenever they were in the garden, or passed by a rosebush in the city. Even when they left for Altissia, if they passed by roses, Prompto wanted pictures.
They were laying in the tent one night after Ignis and Gladio fell asleep, curled up with each other when Noctis finally asked why.
“Roses mean love and passion, and you look the most beautiful when you’re surrounded by them. They make you look like the king you are.”
Noctis kissed him for a long time after that.
Yeah, he had a favorite flower.
Prompto | Gladiolus | Ignis | Ravus | Aranea | Cor
#this one didnt turn out quite the way i wanted it#but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless#chocobros favorite flowers#noctis lucis caelum#noctgar#prompto argentum#sunshine boy#promptis#ffxv#final fantasy xv#final fantasy 15#ffxv headcanons#headcanons#roses#darlingwrites
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(Also seen on my blog @darlingwrites)
Throwback to Inktober 2017, when I drew my first WTNV fanart! I liked the image of Cecil Palmer as a more traditional, old-timey radio announcer so I tried to go for something like that. Behind him is an...er...guest.
My art has improved substantially since that year, but I feel like this piece holds up surprisingly well, especially considering I didn’t use pencil!
#night vale vibes#welcome to night vale#night vale#fanart#cecil palmer#cecil wtnv#wtnv#podcast#horror#traditional art#lovecraftian#darling draws
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When you laid your eyes to whom your heart beats
#darlingwrites
#shortwords
#justwords
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Dirty Laundry
Shane Walsh x F!Reader
Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.
Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.
Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.
You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.
One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.
But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”
You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.
These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.
“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”
“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”
“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”
“Yeah, but at what cost.”
“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”
“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”
“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.
“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”
“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”
You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.
“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”
“So? That’s what weekends are for?”
“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”
“Who said you can't have that too?”
“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”
“You’re being a little brat today.”
“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
“Nothing.” You push the next one.
“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”
“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”
“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”
You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.
“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”
Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”
“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.
There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.
Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.
His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.
All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…
“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.
Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.
“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.
Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.
“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.
“Love you more, sweetheart.”
You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.
“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.
He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.
“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.
“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.
“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.
“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”
“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”
#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh#twd fanfiction#the walking dead#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal fanfiction#fanfiction#darlingwrites
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Todo Tuyo (All Yours)
Pairing: Criminal!Shane Walsh x Spanish!Pregnant!Reader
Summary: Some bonds are unable to explain, and yours with Shane has always been a mystery. No matter how many times he's hurt you, you always ended up taking back his sorry ass. This time, after three years gone, when he comes back, you're married and pregnant. And not even that can challenge that bond.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Heavy Angst, Smut, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Complicated Relationships, DV, Abuse, Mention of drugs and violence, bittersweet ending.
Word Count: 10.9k
— Read below or at AO3.
A/N: A few important things you should know before reading since I couldn't sum it all up:
— The DV and Abuse warnings don't apply to Shane.
— Reader's husband is the abuser.
— This is kind of a Dark!Shane version, but he's soft for reader, I promise!
— I wrote this as a Spanish!Speaking Reader.
— Shane is fluent in Spanish. He learned for her.
— I tried to keep Spanish down to a few sentences only, but I translated them all in (bold, italic parenthesis like this).
— I won't be translating however all the pet names, just when I need to. But for reference – Shane calls reader 'Corazón' (it means heart, it's the equivalent of Sweetheart) and Reader calls Shane 'Cielo' (it means sky, and it's just like Sweetheart or Honey.)
“What the hell are you doing here?”
You only cracked the door as far as the chain on the lock let you. Through it, you could only see half of your ex-boyfriend's face shadowed under a worn-out baseball cap from Jim’s Body Shop. A handful of curls stuck out on the sides. His chin had a nice shadow from a three-day stubble, and the bags below his eyes gave away that he had been up for longer than he should have. He was still the hottest motherfucker you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No matter how much time had passed since the last time you saw him, Shane Walsh aged just like wine and all you wanted to do is pour yourself a cup of that.
That’s how strong was his hold on you.
You didn't have to be a genius to see that he wanted something from you. That was his MO, he only showed up when he was in trouble and had no one to turn to but poor old sucker you, who never had the guts to kick him to the curb.
“I need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” he said under a breath.
“Things have changed. You can’t stay here this time.”
“Look, I know it's been a while but–”
“A while?” you scoffed. “It's been three years, Shane.”
“I know that. But I don't really have anywhere else to go right now. I drove all the way from Wyoming just to see you. One night. That’s all I'm asking, Corazón. I won't get in your hair. I promise.”
You hated saying no to him, even after all this time. Even after all the times he's let you down, you couldn’t stand seeing him hurt with nowhere to go, but this time there was nothing you could do to help him. Except…
“I could get you a room at The Sennott for half off. If you need money…”
“No, keep your money. I'll work something out. Could I…”
“What?”
“Before I go, you think I could have a cup of coffee with you?”
You shook your head as his face leaned closer to the door frame.
“C'mon, baby, just one for old times,” his plush lips barely mumbled.
You caught a glimpse of those big, sad puppy eyes of his he pulled off so well. Whether it was genuine, it didn’t matter. The fact is that it worked like a charm and against your better judgment, you sighted, unlatched the chain and welcomed him into your home.
After all that time gone, you still had a soft stop from him, and you doubt that’ll ever change. Alas, he’d always be the man you’ve loved the most. That sucks for you and for him. Cause he has a tendency to disappear on you when you most need him, and after the last time, you decided that you wouldn't be waiting for him anymore.
“Wow, you’re pregnant,” taking off his cap, his eyes grew wide when he stepped inside the house.
“No me digas.”
(You don’t say.)
It was hard to miss. You were seven months along already and couldn’t even believe it happened so fast.
Your palm drew the curve of your rounded belly over the t-shirt you were wearing. The hem barely touched the top of your thighs, and that’s where he looked next.
“You always had beautiful legs, Corazón,” he smirked, placing the backpack he was carrying on a chair.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you turned around and thought about all those times your thighs were wrapped around his head while he ate your pussy.
“It never did,” Shane scoffed, fixing his messed up curls.
You picked up the carafe from the machine, filled a mug with coffee without even bothering with heating it up.
“Five minutes. He’ll be here soon,” you said firmly, handing over the mug.
“I’ve always liked it cold anyway,” he lifted the cup up to his lips as you leaned on the counter. “You’re not having any?”
“It’s not good for the baby.”
“Oh, right.”
“What have you been up to, anyway?”
“Do you really wanna know?”
“Not really,” you crossed your arms and paused. “I guess I thought I deserved to know why you didn’t come back when you said you would. I saw Rick a few months ago and said he hadn’t heard of you in a while… led me to believe you were dead.”
“Shit happens.”
“Shit happens? Me lo merezco por preguntar,” you couldn’t hide the frustration in your tone.
(I deserve that for asking.)
“I thought you’d be over me.”
“I am.”
“Ain't seem like it.”
“Mira, cabrón,” you showed him the ring around your finger, and pointed once more at your pregnant stomach. “I’m completely over you.”
(Look, bastard.)
“That doesn’t prove shit. Looks like you wanted to one-up me, and move on as fast as possible so next time I’d show up, you’d have an excuse to throw me away.”
“Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t mean that I’m not over you.”
“You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Do you even love the poor sucker?”
“Why do you care?”
“Cause we both know, that no matter how much you hate me, you’d never love anyone as you love me.”
“That’s bullshit, Shane.”
“Sabes que es verdad, Corazón. You also know that no man would ever care for you like I do.”
(You know that’s true, sweetheart.)
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving every five minutes. You think you can just come here like nothing happened?”
“It's worked before.”
“It’s too late now.”
“Is it?”
He took one more sip from his coffee before placing the mug on the breakfast bar and going around it to have you closer.
As your stare fell to the floor, he noticed the bruise on your temple.
“Hey, what happened here?” he lifted his hand to your face and gently touched it.
“Nothing,” you swatted his hand away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hit my head with the cabinet last night.”
“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.
“I told you. It was the cabinet.”
“Hey, mírame,” he placed a finger under your chin, and tilted up to capture your watery eyes. “Dime la verdad. ¿Te ha puesto la mano encima?”
(Hey, Look at me. // Tell me the truth. Did he lay his hand on you?)
“Tienes que irte.”
(You gotta go.)
“¿De qué tienes miedo, Corazón?”
(What are you afraid of, Sweetheart?)
“No tengo miedo de nada… You just can’t be here when he comes back.”
(I’m not afraid of anything…)
“Alright, I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to do something first,” he lifted his hand up to your face and framed your chin.
“Shane… don’t…”
“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” he said under a breath, placing his thumb gently on your lips.
“Please,” You weakly pleaded, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen.
His tongue swiped across his lips, and the next second they were gently pressed against yours.
Your eyes welled up and quickly shed a few tears upon that first initial contact. It didn’t take much to get you under his spell once more, for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself how fucking toxic he is, you fell for it every damn time like an idiot. It didn’t matter that you were married either, as bad as it sounds, what you and Shane had was something that couldn’t be stopped by any means. Only death could put an end to it. It didn’t help either that you weren’t on the best of terms with your husband either, so guilt went out the door the moment you let Shane in.
Unable to pull away, you let him deepen the kiss and invade your mouth with his tongue. He went slow and tender. That’s how it always started, he’d play on your good side, and once your defenses were down he’d go in full swing. He’d breathe in your air, soak in the taste of your mouth, take all the space until you were left breathless.
You linked your arms around his neck, and kissed him back, following the sweet undoing of his familiar lips as they fused tightly with yours.
When he tried to press himself closer to your body, your pregnant belly got on the way.
One of his palms tenderly landed on top of your stomach and drew the big curve that was keeping him away from you. Your heart fluttered as the small gesture.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this?” he broke the kiss, and looked down at his hand, while your head responded with a faint shake. “Eres preciosa, mi vida. I’d’ve put a baby in you before if that’s what you wanted.”
(You’re gorgeous, my life.)
“I know, that’s why I never asked,” you placed your palm on top of his roughed-up knuckles. “Have you beaten up someone?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ll never change. Will you?”
“I could if you ask me.”
“You are who you are, Cielo. I can’t ask you that, and you can’t change for me.”
“Cielo. I missed that,” his face beamed, framing your tummy with both hands and dipped to kiss your forehead.
“One more for the road?” You held his face, and it was you this time the one capturing his mouth.
You kissed him as if this was the last time you’d ever see him. You needed something to hold onto. It was so fucking naive of you that he’d ever change or settle. He had another mistress, one that had no lips or body or soul that led him to the darkest of paths far away from yours. It was impossible to compete with that. Until he was ready to let that life go, there’ll be no future between the two of you.
Maybe one day, you kept hoping as you basked in the swirl of his tongue. He was so fucking needy and hungry for you, it became desperate. He panted in your mouth, had trouble catching his breath cause all he wanted to do is swallow you all.
His hands moved to your ass, gripped hard at your flesh. You wish you had the power to stop all that at once. You could, but you wanted him just as much. Your hormones were not helping either. They only fueled the flame that was still clearly alive between you.
You moaned in his mouth, as the sloppy doing of his tongue drove you out of your mind. One of his hands reached further down your bottom, slipping between your thighs to feel the dampness pooling on your underwear. He always knew how to get you wet with just a kiss, but this was something else entirely. You were sopping wet. He could feel your juices seeping through the fabric.
“Say that you don’t want me again, I dare you,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin.
“Shut up. I need you to fuck me,” you sucked in his lower lip hard between your teeth, tugged it, and let it go when it was bright pink.
He scoffed at your request, not of mockery but pride of being still able to incite you like that.
“We don’t have much time. You have to do it fast,” you warned and turned around, pushing your panties down to your ankles as he undid his belt and fly.
“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”
Shane quickly pulled out his cock. It was half hard.
Biting on your lip, you glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking himself off up to a firmer completion.
You stuck your butt out and propped your forearms on the hard surface of the counter, as Shane guided his cock oh so carefully between your tender lips.
“I’ve never fucked a pregnant woman before. I don't wanna hurt you,” he confessed in your ear as his hardness stroked just a little further into your walls.
“Don’t overthink it. Baby’s safe. Just fuck me like always.”
“Hmm,” he followed your order and after a couple of experimental thrusts, the pace of his hips skyrocketed to a punishing level that felt like heaven and hell rising at the same time between your legs. He kept your hips locked in his hands, fingers digging in your flesh as you tucked one of your hands between your legs to feel your juices leaking all over your legs and floor. It was like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Most of it was partially hormonal, the other part was a mix of being touch-starved from your husband, and missing Shane, and his cock like crazy.
You rubbed your clit and all of a sudden one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt at the front to feel your breasts.
“Fuck, you’re so big and juicy, mi vida,” he grunted, squeezing your overly-sensitive, pebbled nipple that felt like a rock between his fingers. His face leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d put another baby in there if I could. You’d like that?”
“God, I would love that,” you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Come inside me, mi amor.”
“Yeah? Tell me you love me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I love you, Cielo,” you gasped as he removed your hand from your pussy to replace it with his own. “I fucking love you and your big cock. Please. Hmm, fuck… fuck, fu…”
“There, mi vida.”
You felt your soul being pulled out of your body when the winning push forced a torrent of pleasure that traveled over your body as your opening contracted around his dick. You went up so high, so fast, you almost didn’t feel when he shot his load.
When he slipped out of you, you quickly went down to pull on your panties back in place. You almost felt embarrassed at the mess that you made on the floor and all over the cabinets below the counter if it didn’t feel that good.
“You really have to go now,” placing a palm on his chest, you glanced out the window, knowing that your husband wouldn’t take much longer now.
“I wanna see you again.”
Your eyes welled up. “We can’t do this again, Shane. If he finds out…”
“Please,” he pleaded over and over in between a trail of desperation and kisses peppered all over your face and neck. “I can’t live without you, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón. Te necesito.”
(My love, my sky, my heart. I need you.)
“Shit. Alright,” you paused to collect your thoughts. “Come tonight. After ten. He’ll be gone the whole weekend. If there’s a truck on the driveway you turn away.”
“Got it.”
“Leave your car at the end of the street, you walk all the way here, and come at the back. ¿Entendido?” you pointed at the back door in your kitchen.
(Got it?)
“Alto y claro.”
(Loud and clear.)
“C’mere, Cielo,” you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and inhaled the smell of his neck for a long moment before sending him in his way.
You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up and saw his seed had dripped from your pussy to your panties. It was still warm and wet. You dabbed your fingers on it and shamelessly brought it to your lips to remember how his cum tasted. Then you pushed those same fingers into your opening to pick up the remains of you and him and licked every bit of it off your digits.
You hated that he had turned you into this mess of a woman that couldn’t ever resist him. Some bonds are unable to explain, and as much as you hated him, you loved him even more than you thought.
As you wiped your legs and changed your underwear, you felt the roaring of your husband’s truck pulling up the driveway before stomping into the house. You hurried to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You could tell it smelled like sex, but Clayton had been drinking as usual, and his senses were shot by the stench of alcohol.
You really knew how to pick them. First Shane, then Clayton. To be fair, Clay was a completely different person when you met him. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he lost his job, and you got pregnant that he started showing his true colors. While Shane, you always knew what you were in for cause he was always the same person from beginning to end, he never hid what he was.
Every other weekend Clay went to a cabin up in the mountains with a group of friends to hunt and whatever the hell they did cause hardly you ever saw anything brought back from those alleged hunting trips. He just brought more dirty clothes soaked in booze and muddied boots. Lately, you didn't even care. You actually preferred when he was gone cause it got him out of the house and those weekends away were the only times you could breathe.
For all that he had put you through, you didn’t feel guilty in the slightest from doing what you did with Shane. God knows Clay would probably be fucking around. You were sure of it cause one, he hand’t touch you since you told him you were pregnant; and two you weren't blind or deaf either, and had caught him talking overly friendly, like he used to talk to you at the beginning, over the phone a couple of times when he thought you were asleep.
“Did you have coffee?” Clay picked up the mug with coffee grounds that Shane left on the counter. “You shouldn’t drink it.”
“I didn’t have any. I had a friend over earlier and I forgot to clean it up.”
“You know how I feel about having people in my house when I’m not here.”
“It’s my house actually,” you pointed out. “What? Are you gonna forbid me from having friends over now?”
You knew you shouldn't poke the bear when it was drunk, but sometimes your mouth ran faster than your brain.
“We're married, remember? What's yours is mine and all that shit. Don't forget that, bitch.”
God, you had to refrain so hard from punching his face.
As you headed out of the kitchen to avoid getting yourself further into trouble, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving.
“I am your husband. And this is my house. You'd be nothing without me. Show some respect.”
“Men who hurt their wives, their pregnant wives, don't deserve any respect,” you snarled. “Now let me go before you do something you might regret later.”
He looked at you with sharp steel eyes, clutching your arm so hard it felt like he might snap it in half. He wanted to hit you so badly, you could tell, like the night before when he swung the remote across your face when you accidentally knocked over his beer.
You held his stare just as defiantly, and pulled your arm free from his grasp. It left a mark that turned into a bruise quickly after.
Staying out of his way, you went into the nursery and sat down with a book on the armchair to read while he gathered his hunting supplies. You heard him heating up some leftovers and showering before leaving.
All you could think when you listened to his truck drive off was seeing Shane again. You had a couple of hours left to get ready. It was a safe window for you to know that your husband was up in the mountains and wouldn't be coming back till Sunday. You followed his friend's updates on Instagram to keep track of him. Trent was an avid poster, and it was the perfect way to keep tabs on him to avoid the imminent disaster of him finding you with your ex.
You took a shower and changed the sheets of your bed, so they wouldn't smell like Clayton. You were dead set on banging Shane in your bed. Technically, he had fucked you many times before, pretty much in every room of this house but never in your new marital bed. It really excited you thinking about it. You wished you had more time to go to the mall to purchase some sexy lingerie that fitted your pregnant body.
God, Shane really knew how to turn you into an idiot.
In the end, it didn't matter what you wore cause it wouldn't stay on for long. You opted for wearing a pair of lacy panties that you could still fit, but the matching bra didn't stand a chance against your new boobs. You put on a flannel shirt instead, and buttoned a couple of buttons that allowed for your generous cleavage to be the center of attention.
You took off your ring as well and hid it in one of the drawers of your nightstand.
When you finished fixing your hair you went around the house and drew all the curtains for privacy. Then you finally got to relax for a while. You checked Trent's Instagram to make sure they had arrived at the cabin. Exactly like you predicted, he documented the whole thing.
Waiting for Shane, you watched TV and ate some food. When you looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past ten. He couldn't be far, right? You built yourself up to the idea of meeting him again, that’d be disappointing if he didn’t come.
For ten more minutes, you started to believe you shouldn’t have put that much effort until you heard a soft knocking on the back door.
“Empezaba a creer que habías cambiado de idea,” you said, letting him in, and securing the lock on the door.
(I was starting to think you changed your mind.)
“When have I ever disappointed you, mi vida?” As you took his hand, you gave him a look, and he scoffed, “don’t answer that.”
“I’m just glad you came back.”
“Fuck! Look at you, Corazón,” his eyes traveled down your body when you turned to him. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”
Taking that as a win, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled firmly towards you to have his lips crash against yours. Then you took him to the bedroom and as you were about to capture his mouth again, Shane stopped you.
“Hold on,” he put some distance between the two of you. “I need to get a good look at you.”
He took off his shirt and tossed aside, as he circled around your body, committing to memory the new curves of your body. When he stood in front of you, you took a closer look at his exposed chest and gulped at the sight of your name tattooed in delicate lettering over his left pec.
“You got that for me?” you traced it with a finger.
“Si, Corazón.”
Your stomach fluttered as his fingers undid the two buttons of your shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to uncover your breasts and baby bump.
“You’re gorgeous like this, mi vida,” the flannel shirt fell to the floor as the back of his knuckles brushed the side of your heavy breast before holding one of them in his hand. It was way larger than his palm he realized, he used to be able to hold it all, now your flesh puffed up between his fingers when he squeezed. “You’re so sensitive.” He noticed your nipples getting hard with just a light touch.
“You can’t even imagine,” you laughed.
“How about here?” Shane guided his other hand between your legs to feel that you were already wet.
You hummed at the soft strokes of his fingers as they slid under the elastic to caress your tender skin. His lips parted at the corner of your mouth as he gathered the arousal from your folds. Your lips down there were puffed too from all the blood gathering all at your core.
“Lay down, I wanna eat you up, Darlin’.”
He bit his bottom lip and watched you following his order. You slipped your panties off under the dark stare of his beautiful eyes that had turned from sweet to a dangerous edge that could set anyone on fire.
You tucked a few pillows beneath your back to keep the weight of your belly off your spine, and reclined as comfortably as you could, spreading your legs wide for him like an offering.
With a grin, he propped a knee on the bed and looked at your cunt as if it was the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He settled between your legs, curled his arms around your thighs and dived right in. With the tip of his nimble tongue, he slowly drew the shape of your lips before circling around your clit. Unlike your husband, Shane was a master of giving head, and was well versed on your pussy. Even after all this time, he still remembered what made you tick.
A shiver ran down your spine as the plane of his tongue licked long strokes from your entrance to your swollen bud.
You threw your head back when his lips wrapped around it. The vicious pressure of his lips around that bundle of nerves felt out of this world.
“God, I’ve missed you, Cielo,” you moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.
“You taste so fucking good,” he grunted ferociously against your folds as a response and all of a sudden he began to suck on you like a starving beast.
Your juices, just as before, leaked all over. It was ridiculous how much you could produce in such a short time. You could feel the fabric below your ass absorbing them.
All your bearings were quickly lost as he took you closer to the edge. All you could do is cry out in pleasure, and squirm as his grip tightened around you to keep your hips in place. You tugged hard on his hair to anchor yourself but all that did is prompting him to go even harder.
“Close… I'm so… fuck, Shane, please… please,” you couldn't stop begging with shallow breaths. Your core was on fire, and you desperately needed to come. “Yes, like that… Ahhh.”
Your legs suddenly clenched around his head a wave of wild bliss coursed through your body, from your center out in different directions. Your toes curled, your muscles shivered, your breathing faltered as your mind was temporarily blown into pure joy. You closed your eyes and let that all take you over your body for a few seconds.
Slowly coming back to your senses, your pussy tingled for a little longer than usual.
Shane was on his knees between your legs, massive erection in his hand when you opened your eyes to find him staring directly at you.
“Goddamn, Corazón. I wish I could take a picture of you like that. I've never seen you come like that for me,” he groaned, pumping his length. “Look how fat you made me.”
Softly laughing, you managed to lift your hand to help him. You replaced his fist with yours and felt the jerking of his firm dick in your palm. His girth was so wide, your thumb couldn't touch any of your other fingers in a curl.
You wondered how many pussies his cock fucked during the past few years. And without thinking or stopping your hand, you asked…
“Di, ¿cuántas zorras te has tirado con mi polla?”
(Say, how many bitches have you fucked with my cock?)
“¿Tu polla?” he snorted.
(Your cock?)
“Yes, just mine,” you winked as you kept your hand moving. “Dime la verdad o paro.”
(Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop.)
“Hmm, no me tortures así, Corazón.”
(Hmm, don’t torture me like that, Sweetheart.)
“Come on. Tell me,” you requested again.
“None,” he panted, unable to keep up with the rhythm of your hand. He had to brace a palm on the mattress to keep himself from falling. “You said it. Soy todo tuyo, mi vida. Te lo prometo.”
(I’m all yours, my life. I promise.)
You smiled widely, pressing your teeth on your lower lip, as you enthusiastically got him to ejaculate all over your swollen belly. It was warm and sticky, and you couldn't help but spread it like butter all over your tight skin, and bring some of it again to your mouth as Shane’s body melted next to yours.
You turned to the side, pushing the pillows under your back aside, keeping one for your head.
Your fingers found his stubbled jaw as you tilted his face in your direction.
“You really haven't been with anyone since the last time I saw you?”
“No. Not like this, Darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, I fooled around with a couple of girls but nothing else. You know me better than that.”
“I'm not sure if that's still true.”
“Do you wanna know where I've been the last two years?”
You were afraid to find out, but your head nodded anyway.
“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.
“What for?”
“Possession. Bet you thought it was about time they caught up with me, huh?”
“No, I’ve never thought that, Shane. As much as I wanted to punish you sometimes, I never wished for that to happen. When did you get out?”
“Yesterday morning,” he smiled softly. “All I could think was you, so I got in the car and I drove all the way here without stopping.”
“You could've called me.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why not?”
“Cause you would've dropped everything to help me, and I couldn't put that on you.”
“I wish you had. I would've done anything…”
“I know.”
“I'd have waited for you.”
“I know that too, Corazón. Don't beat yourself up for it.”
Your phone dinged, and you blindly extended your hand to pick up from your nightstand. It was another update from Trent. They were playing beer pong like fucking frat guys, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“What’s that?” Shane asked.
“Oh, nothing, just checking on him. I’m keeping tabs on his friend’s Instagram to see that he’s still at the cabin.”
“No, not that. This,” Shane lifted your wrist as the soft light from the night lamp highlighted the mark on your forearm. “You didn't have this earlier. I told you my truth. Would you tell me yours?”
Placing your phone down, you pursed your lips, pondering why you’re still protecting that asshole.
“I… you were right earlier. I don’t really love him anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I just needed some stability and I thought he was it. This happened after you left. And this,” then you pointed to your temple, “he smacked me with the remote last night.”
“Why are you with someone like that? I thought–”
“You thought, what, that I had some self-respect? I used to. I think I did. It’s more complicated than you think. He wasn’t like that when I met him.”
“They hardly ever are.”
“He lost his job a few months ago and started drinking, it wasn’t until recently that he-”
“Stop. Don’t make excuses for him. Losing a job doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole and hit your wife or any woman at all. And drinking… I know a thing or two about getting wasted, and I never put my hand on you no matter how drunk I was.”
“You're right… I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Then, kick him out. Call the police. Get a restraining order. This is still your house, right?”
“Yeah, it is. But like I said – it’s more complicated than that. He has two cop friends. Best friends. They protect each other like fucking wolves. Last year, one of them killed a girl in a DUI, and he got nothing but a slap on the wrist. If I were to show up to ask for a restraining order, who do you think they’ll protect?”
“That’s fucking crazy. You can't live like that, baby.”
You sighted, combing the curls behind his ear. “Sometimes, when he goes away like this I think – this time he’d be too drunk to drive, and he’d end up going over a cliff, die upon impact and would never set foot in this house again. I keep closing my eyes at night and dreaming about it.”
Shane softly patted your hair back, and snuggled closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.
“I’m not gonna let him hurt you again. I promise, Corazón.”
“You don’t have to save me.”
“Lo sé, mi vida.”
Smiling against his chest, basking in the familiar scent of Shane, and feeling the big flutter of a kicking storm in your stomach. You held his hand and placed it on the side of your belly.
“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”
“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”
“She does,” you placed your mouth over his ear, and whispered the name of your baby girl.
“That’s a beautiful name. She’s gonna kick ass, just like her mama.”
“I hope so,” your lips quirked up as you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and confessed. “I wish she was yours.”
“I wish she was mine too.”
Your lips locked together once more as you rid yourself of all bad thoughts clouding your head. You only ever wanted Shane. It’s easier to forget how much you love him when he’s not around, and just as easier to remember that you’d die for him if you had to. As the intensity of the kiss rose, you shifted and straddled his waist. He watched you become a goddess as you rubbed yourself over his dick, getting it to fully harden.
“Are you in heat or something?” he laughed, holding your hips.
“It’s the hormones. What? Aren’t you up for the challenge, big guy?”
“Oh, I’m up, alright.”
You lifted your ass, held his cock and carefully sank onto it.
Rocking back and forth you propped your hands on his broad chest, so you could boost yourself up to bounce all over his massive erection. His hands held your ass to help you go faster.
When you caught him eyeing your big breast you bent over, holding one in your hand and put it over his mouth, so he can suck on it. His lips wrapped tight around your sensitive nipple and latched on it. You were growling at the wonderful sensation paired with his throbbing cock inside you.
“God, Corazón, you’re amazing, you feel so… “ He moaned as he switched to the other nipple.
This time his teeth scraped the surface, and you almost came at the surprise. You were so close you couldn’t help but bounce a little faster. You had to brace both hands again to keep up with the rhythm. The weight of your belly started to hinder your pace the closer you got to the edge.
“Help me,” you grabbed Shane's hand and put it on your clit, pleading with a cry, “I need it. Please.”
“I got you, baby. I got you.”
He rubbed viciously on your clit until you came with such force all your juices squirted all over him. Then the pleasure of your orgasm forced his own. His cocked jerked, and suddenly you were filled again with his delicious seed.
You didn’t hear Shane leaving after you fell asleep in his arms.
When you woke up to pee a couple of hours later, the clock marked 4AM, and he wasn't in your bed anymore. He had left the house altogether. You didn't have plans for the next day, but you weren't expecting him to leave that early in the morning either without saying goodbye.
There was a pang of disappointment in your chest as you went back to bed, but you closed your eyes, naively hoping he'd come back later.
It was your lucky day cause when you opened your eyes again, he was back and had brought breakfast with him. All our favorite plates were laid on the breakfast bar as he made a fresh batch of coffee.
“Where did you go, Cielo?” you asked in between bites.
“Went out for breakfast.”
“I can see that. I mean earlier. Woke up at 4 and you were gone.”
He took a long sip of his cup before responding, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”
“It must be strange sleeping in a new bed.”
“Yeah, a little.”
“I have to work later. I can call in sick if you want–” you offered.
“No, baby, do what you gotta do. No te preocupes por mí.”
(Don’t worry about me.)
“You can’t stay here, but I could still get you a room at the hotel if you’re tired.”
“Nah, do your thing, I’ll figure it out.”
“Would you… come later?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll be here, Corazón,” he kissed your hair and picked up your phone from the counter, “unlock it. I’ll put in my new number, and you call me when you’re off. Yeah?”
“Prométeme que volverás,” you said before handing back the phone.
(Promise that you’ll come back.)
“Lo prometo.”
(I promise.)
After cleaning your plate you relaxed in bed for a little while, trying to get him to catch up with his sleep. There was no luck in that department cause he couldn't keep his eyes and hands off you. So once again, you found yourself in a trance of hormone-induced lust, and had Shane thrusting into you at full force from behind. Your ass was in the air, held in his broad palms, while you sobbed and moaned in pleasure against the pillow beneath your head. You desperately pushed back with your hips, taking him all in. Feeling every stroke, every inch and throb until your legs were left trembling and the fire in your core had spread through your whole body.
When you went off to work in the afternoon, it all seemed to become a hazy dream. It was all so intense that part of you thought it couldn't be real. But that was most of your relationship with Shane. Sometimes you couldn't help but feel you weren't enough for him. Him constantly leaving and breaking his promises was proof that you shouldn’t trust everything he says, but this time felt different. Maybe it was cause he was fresh out of prison, but you could tell that perhaps he was ready to stay out of trouble.
The first half of your shift went by quickly. You kept checking your phone like a maniac to make sure your husband stayed where he was supposed to, and luckily he did. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting you, you weren’t afraid of hurting him back, but you were indeed scared of him finding out about you and your old flame regardless.
You were at the front desk when Shane came in an hour before your shift ended to ask for a room. He needed a place to stay after all, and as the manager you managed pretty well to comp him a room for a couple of days. He carried his scarce luggage that consisted of just a duffle bag to his room, took a shower and waited for your shift to end.
Shane was half asleep when you finished work and knocked on his door. It was easy to see that he was utterly spent, so you didn’t make him drive back to the house. Instead, you stayed with him for the night. You trimmed his curls and shaved his face. Then, you took a long bath together like old times.
“Are you going to stay this time?” you asked once you got into bed.
You faced the other under covers and didn't talk louder than a whisper.
“I don't have anywhere else to go, baby.”
“Does that mean that you're done hustling?”
“I gotta. I don't have any other choice than to be done. Next time it could be 20 or 30 or life. I think I've tempted fate way too many times and got away with more than I should've. I had a lot of time to think and realized none of it mattered. Didn't care about the money. It was just… I don’t know, the power I guess. And I missed on a lot of time with you, and now I have nothing to show for. I don't really know what I'm gonna do, but I'm done with all that. All I know is that I just wanna be with you.”
“I…” your words caught up in your throat, as you tried to convey and process what he said at the same time. “I wanna believe that's true, but you've said you were done before and always felt right back into it.”
“This time is different. I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere this time. Cross my heart.”
Your lips softly pulled up at the corners as you placed your hand over your name's tattoo on his chest.
Regardless of his promise, you’d always have some reservations when it comes to him. Until he really proves it, there’s nothing stripping all those doubts he’s ingrained in you over the years.
When you woke up in the middle of the night he was gone like the night before. This time there was a note saying that he had gone out for a drive and signed it with – I love you, Corazón.
By the time you got up this time he hadn't come back. It didn't worry you though. You just went on with your day, drove back home to take a shower and run some errands before your next shift.
You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen next. You couldn't just jump into Shane's arms after all this time and pretend nothing ever happened. If this was really happening you had to make sure that was true to his word and figure out how he’d fit into your life when you were about to have a baby.
But most importantly, there was something you had to do first. Something that you should’ve done a long time ago and that was leaving your husband. You had been subjected to verbal and mental abuse for months that gradually turned into physical abuse. No matter how much it scared you, it was time to put your foot down and protect not only yourself but your daughter. She couldn’t be raised around him. And Shane or no Shane, it was something you couldn’t keep brushing aside hoping it’ll get better. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You weren’t sure how to start. Like you told Shane, going to Lafayette’s Police Department wasn’t an option. But maybe giving Rick a call and asking him for some guidance could be the first step of many.
You pinned that thought for the next day and went back to work a little earlier than usual. It was Sunday afternoon, and you dreaded that Clayton would be coming back later. So you decided to pay Shane a visit before work.
“You know, being here with you this weekend… it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened in a long time, Sweetheart.”
“Well, anything can beat spending two years in prison.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, mi vida. I mean it. I just hope you can forgive me someday for everything I’ve done. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that I wanna tell you but…”
He lowered his stare.
“Shane… I… If what you say it’s true, if you prove that I can count on you and that you’re not going back to all that, I’d never hold anything against you. That’s my promise. Whatever you did, you’ve done your time, right?”
“Right,” he picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles before smoothing his palm on your baby bump.
“I can come back later, just for a little while before going home.”
“If you feel like it, I’ll be here, Corazón. Always. No matter what happens.”
He said kind of ominously before you left the room. His tone was certainly different from the night before, he could barely look you in the eye as you said goodbye.
It really puzzled you as you went back to your desk. Maybe he was just tired or perhaps, he was actually feeling the weight of all his actions at once and was actually remorseful. You definitely hadn’t seen that look in his face before that afternoon.
On a quiet evening, when you thought this weekend couldn’t bring more surprises, there was something else that turned your world upside down when two of Clayton’s friends showed up at the front desk. It was the two cops, Simon and Paulie, or Prick One and Prick Two as you called them, asking you for a private place to talk.
You took them into the office where they asked you to sit down, so they could break the news of your husband’s death. It was hard to hear, no matter how many times you’ve fantasized about it, it seemed impossible and your first reaction when they told you he drove over a cliff was to burst into laughter.
“You guys are joshing, right?” you scoffed, and their faces remained unchanged, dead serious. “That can’t be right. He was with you the whole time. I saw it in Trent’s fucking pictures.”
“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s true. We ran out of ice, and he said he was going to the gas station for more and never returned last night. We didn’t find him until this morning… we weren’t sure it was him until they got down to get him. That’s why we waited to tell you.”
“Ice? He went out for ice?” You gritted in disbelief.
“He was pretty wasted. We all were, but you know how he was, once he got something in his head…”
“That’s the last thing he said before leaving.”
“But we believe there was something else that I rather you hear from us than on the news. They found a bag with amphetamines and cocaine in his truck.”
“After he lost his job he was desperate and, we kinda knew that he was selling to-”
They kept spitting out information that didn’t seem feasible to you until you snapped.
“Stop, stop, stop,” you said stiffly, holding your palms up for a moment before getting up from your chair. “Everything you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. He’s many things, but he’s not a fucking drug dealer.”
Though it’d explain some things, you couldn’t believe Clayton had turned into that.
“You kinda knew? That’s bullshit. You either were fully aware of what he was up to or you two are the dumbest cops I’ve ever met. You just don’t – kinda knew –” you threw big air quotes at their own words.
“Hey!” Simon raised his voice for just a second before his partner motioned at him to have some tact.
“We know you’re hurting, sweetheart. It’s a lot to process, but we’re here for whatever you need. Clay would’ve wanted us to help you.”
A lot to process was an understatement.
You looked out the window and saw Shane’s jeep parked in the lot, and it dawned on you. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence… It was Shane. He killed him. It was as clear as day. You told him about your fantasy of Clayton falling from a cliff the other night, and he made that happen. He murdered him in your name and these two clowns were obviously too stupid to figure that out.
It made you sick to your stomach to think about it and you had to fight not to throw up right on the spot.
“Do I need to identify the body? Is he…?” you couldn’t even imagine what he would look like. All you could think about is the last time you saw him when he grabbed your arm, that same arm you unconsciously were gripping to as hard as he did.
“We can take care of that. You don’t have to see him like that.”
You simply nodded as vile rose to your throat, “there’s a lot… If you could… I need to be alone for a minute.”
“We understand. Call us if you need anything.”
They left the office and the first thing you did when the door was closed was hurl everything you had eaten earlier in the wastebasket.
Beads of sweat covered your forehead and chest when you came out of the office. Your boss dismissed you from work and instead of going home, you went straight to Shane’s room for answers. What he said earlier about forgiveness of all the things he’s done suddenly made a lot of sense. He wasn’t talking about three years ago, he was talking about what he had done last night.
When he opened the door, your cheeks were already covered in tears, as rage just fired through your body. You couldn’t voice anything other than a “how could you….” as you shoved him back several times with all the strength you could muster until his back was pressed against the wall.
You didn’t have to say much cause he was aware that you knew that he indeed had killed Clayton. He fucking knew that sooner or later you were going to find out.
“Lo siento, mi vida. De verdad que lo siento…”
(I’m sorry, my life. I truly am sorry…)
He wasn’t in fact sorry at all, he was sorry that he hurt you, but he wasn’t carrying an ounce of guilt from killing your husband in cold blood.
“He had to go. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just let him hurt you again, you gotta know that.”
“No. You’re not putting this on me. You did that cause you’re a selfish piece of shit. I shouldn’t’ve…”
“C’mon, you practically begged me the other day. Why would you tell me that you kept dreaming of him dying if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”
“It’s called being vulnerable. You caught me at a bad time and took advantage of it. I’m sick of men like you and him making the rules as they go.”
“I didn’t make any rules. I did what I had to cause you didn’t have the guts to kick him out of your life.”
“I had a plan… I was going to… and you…” you kept losing the ability to put your thoughts together.
“Babe, I don’t care if you hate me for as long as I live but, I’m gonna sleep tonight like a baby knowing that that asshole won’t ever touch you again.”
“Is that easy for you, huh?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel just one bit relieved that you won’t have to see him ever again. Di la verdad.”
(Tell the truth.)
You shook your head, and swallowed the hard pill of his words. He was partly right. As shocking as it was, you knew that after all this, you’d be glad he was gone.
“It doesn’t matter, Shane. What you did was evil.”
“I did it cause I love you.”
“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”
“I didn’t wanna, I swear. For the first time… I didn’t wanna do something like this, trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t think you deserve that.”
“You should go home and rest…. Once this is over you’ll see more clearly that this had to happen.”
“See more clearly? You’re the one with tunnel vision, Shane. If you can admit that what you did was fucking wrong, then there’s nothing else to say here. We’re done.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong. I know it was. But the only thing that matters to me is that you and your baby are safe. And if they lock me up for it, so be it. I don't fucking care. I wasn't gonna sit down and watch him hurt you again.”
“I… I really don't know what you expect me to do with all this. You killed, not just someone… you killed my husband. How can you sit down and pretend that everything will be fine? How are you gonna live with that?”
“Wasn't really the first time. I told you there was a lot you didn't know about.”
“That doesn't make me feel any better. I said I wouldn't hold anything against you, but this is too much, Shane.”
“I know.”
“No matter what he did, he didn't deserve…” you started but immediately realized you didn't even believe your own thoughts. He did deserve to die. Just not like this, perhaps. “Is there any way this could be traced to you, to us?”
“No, I covered all my tracks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want me to give you the rundown?”
“If someone finds out…”
“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”
“Tú y tus malditas promesas. Sigues siendo el mismo cabrón.”
(You and your damn promises. You’re still the same bastard.)
“Hey, mírame y dime, en tu corazón de corazones ¿De veras crees eso?”
(Look at me and tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe that?)
You glanced at him, but you couldn't focus enough to tell or understand what you believed anymore. Your head sunk into your shoulders in defeat before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Was he really selling drugs or did you plant them?”
“I didn't plant anything. I have no idea what he was up to. I just followed him with my car and made sure he went…”
“How did you know where he was?”
“You showed me where they were in that photo the other night. Their dumbasses even tagged the location.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“So you want the rundown after all.”
“Just wanna make sure… I don’t know anymore… I don’t know why I care at all,” you tiredly held your forehead on your palms.
“Look, the less you know the better. They won’t come after you. I’ll make sure of that… but to answer your question, no, nobody saw me. I used a different car, I scooped up the place the night before and just waited… I thought I’d have to do it when they were all asleep but, when he got into his truck I saw my chance.”
“Ya es suficiente.”
(That’s enough.)
You promptly stood up as you were torn in different directions inside. Turning your back on him, your hand reached for the door handle. “You should leave town while you can. I won’t tell anyone… but I can’t see you anymore.”
“So this is it? This is how it ends?”
“I don’t know… I just can’t really look at you right now. You put my life upside down in two days, Shane.”
“I’m so sorry for that. I really am. But I hope one day you have it in your heart to forgive me… I… I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, I’m just one call away, Corazón.”
You didn’t look back, didn’t even glance over your shoulder one last time to see him as you stepped out of the room.
Emotionally and physically exhausted you drove home as your brain switched on autopilot. The next few days were hazy and draining. As soon as the body was released for burial you got the funeral out of the way quickly. It didn't surprise you that it was ruled as an accident, with the levels of alcohol in his blood and the drugs in the truck didn’t leave room for questioning foul play. And the worst part of it all, and that Shane was right, you didn’t feel bad at all for his death.
Though Shane left the hotel you worked at, he stayed in town. You saw his car parked by the diner the day you returned to work.
He stayed away. More than once you thought he’d come up out of the blue and show up on your porch, and you’d be too weak to deal with him again. But He didn’t even dare to call or text again after that day.
It wasn’t until three or so weeks later, when you started feeling more like your old self, you began going through Clayton’s stuff. There wasn’t really anything you wanted to keep, so you threw most of it in the donation pile and called it a day. There was one thing though, that you couldn’t sort, and it was the storage cabinet he had padlocked in the garage. You went through every drawer and pocket to find a key to it, but there was no luck. Maybe it was lost in the mountains with him, you thought. Then, as much as you wanted to avoid that, you had no choice but to search the bag you were given with the personal belongings he had during the ‘accident’. There you found the key attached to his keychain.
At that point, nothing surprised you anymore when you opened the cabinet to find a backpack filled with prescription pills and other drugs you didn’t recognize. Along with it there was also some cash, a gun with a box of ammo, his work tools, a pair of utility boots, and a few magazines.
Perhaps that’s the excuse you needed to see Shane again, who fucking knows, but for whatever reason you picked up the phone and called him. Without going into detail about your findings, you asked him to come over to look at your car instead and he did. A couple of hours later, as the sun went down, he knocked on your door.
“I’m glad you called,” he said.
“Follow me,” you requested dryly, as you guided him into the garage. With the door shut down to the driveway, you opened the cabinet and showed him. “Can you get rid of this?”
“Is this yours?” He scanned the bag of stash. “Have you been hiding a side hustle?”
“No, asshole. It was his. I’ve just found it and I don’t know what to do with it. Do I call the police?”
“Don’t. Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I’ve been watching those two, you know his friends, and they were in it too.”
“How do you know?”
“Cause I know. Why do you think they were so quick to rule it as an accident? They turned him into his errand boy. He didn't just go out for ice, he was making a drop that night. Those fucking pictures they kept posting? Those are their alibis.”
Short of breath, you took a step back and leaned against the hood of your car. “I don’t wanna know any of it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m tired of all this, Shane… I want it to be over.”
“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”
“What about the gun?”
He picked it up and made a thorough inspection making sure that it wasn’t loaded.
“I’ll take care of it too.”
“Wait, if it’s registered, shouldn’t I just turn it over or something?”
“Ghost gun. Has no serial number, see?” He turned it around and pointed at the side to show there was indeed no number where it was supposed to. “In normal circumstances, you could say you just found it, but in this case… I wouldn’t do it.”
“Got it. Just do what you have to do. Get rid of the cash too, I need all of it gone.”
“Now, hold on, there's like 8 G's here. You should keep that.”
“It's drug money, I don't want it.”
“Yeah, but you could use it for something good. Buy something for you or the baby.”
“I don't need it, I was doing pretty good without his money. I won't be able to use it without thinking about where it came from. I never took yours, I'm not gonna take his now.”
“Think it's for a good cause. Like it or not, he was her father, you could open a savings account for her. Don't let it go to waste, sweetheart. You might need it someday.”
“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”
“I could get you a good price on that bag too. I'm thinking about 5-”
“No, I don't want you to risk it. Just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, toss it somewhere far away from here.”
“Are you sure? The Dixons owe me one, I could get them to–”
“I'm not gonna bend on this one Shane. I mean it. Stay away from the Dixons. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Alright, I’ll just get rid of it. But y’know I’m taking a huge risk getting this off your hands.”
“Oh.”
“So, are you sure you want me to? If they find me with this, I could get locked up again.”
“Ya empezamos… ¿Quieres algo a cambio?” You huffed, crossing your arms firmly over your belly.
(Here we go… You want something in return?)
“No, I mean… I just wanna see you for a coffee sometime.”
“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”
“It doesn't have to be coffee.”
“I’m too tired to do this again Shane. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. After you’ve put me through… no tienes derecho a pedir nada.”
(You have no right to ask for anything.)
“Lo siento. Tenía que intentarlo. Can you blame me?”
(I’m sorry. Had to try.)
“Yes, I can.”
“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” he huffed, and looked at the bag in his hand, and reiterated. “I’ll take care of this, don’t worry about it. No strings attached.”
“Thank you.” It took you a moment to say it, but you did. “So, you’re not leaving town. You’re not scared of being found out?”
“No, I’m not scared of being found out.”
“And what’s your plan now?”
“I meant what I saw the other day. I'm staying. I got a job at Jim’s. He’s letting me use the trailer behind the shop to save some money. And that’s my plan for now. Why? Thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“No? It seems like you awfully care a lot about what happens to me for someone who says doesn’t give a fuck.”
“I was just curious, Shane. You can just go, we don’t have to keep talking.”
“But I like talking to you.”
“I know you do. That’s the only thing you have over me. Every time you open your mouth… you’re just one step closer to…”
“What? Changing your mind?”
“It’s not a good thing.”
“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”
“Of course you do.”
“Okay, let me ask you just one more thing, and then I’ll go.”
“Okay, one.”
“If someone you loved was treated like you were–”
“Shane… don’t.”
“Lemme finish, please. If someone you loved was treated like you were, wouldn’t you do something about it? What if it was one of your friends? What if it was me… or what if an asshole in 20 years treated your daughter like that? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”
“That’s not a fair question. You’re playing on my emotions right now. Of course, I’d do something about it.“
“Then, why is it different? Would you kill for me if I was in danger?”
“That’s more than one question.”
“Would you?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the situation. Once upon a time, if you had asked me that, I’d say yes, I’d have killed anyone for you.”
“¿Y ahora?”
(And now?)
“No lo sé… I have something more pressing on my hands right now. I’m not alone anymore,” you glanced at your baby bump. “The difference between you and me is that I have to consider that what I do affects her.”
“Guess I should’ve thought that.”
“You should’ve.”
“We could still make it work. Maybe not now. But maybe someday when you can look at me again without seeing what I did. What do you think?”
“I think you’ve gone over the limit of questions you said you were going to ask, and my head is starting to hurt. But you know that I’ll never rule anything out between you and me. We’re both a lost cause. And if you really stay out of trouble and keep your word, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”
“That’s all I needed to hear, Corazón.”
Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.
“Be careful with that.”
“Don't worry about me.”
His hand carefully slid on the side of your neck as Shane pressed his lips to your forehead. It lingered, once again making you feel as weak as the day you met him. It made you question whether to push him away or just give in to old habits. You've accepted that no matter what he did, you'd never be able to get rid of him.
You tentatively held his jaw between your palms, and stared at his lips for a beat before returning the kiss. It was soft and quick cause you didn't want to delve too fast and make it feel like a reward.
“I'll see you around,” you offered. That's the best you could do for now.
#shane walsh#shane walsh x reader#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal fanfiction#twd fanfiction#twd#the walking dead#fanfiction#smut#angst#pregnant reader#spanish reader#darlingwrites
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First, Last & Only
Frank Castle x F!Reader
Summary: You don’t know his name yet, or much about the life of the tall and brooding coffee-addict that likes sitting on your section. The only thing you know, besides his favorite beverage, is that he’s traveling across the country, and that this little town in Indiana is just one more stop in his journey. He’s been staying at Odell’s Motel for a few weeks and during that time, he’s become a regular customer at the diner you work at, and sort of acquaintance of yours. His order is always hot black coffee. If you had it on tap, he'd drink it directly from it, you believe.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Fluff, Smut, Making Out, Vaginal Sex, Unsafe Sex, Pet Names, Coffee, Alcohol, Mention of Death and Kidnapping.
Word Count: 4,5k
A/N: This was inspired by the first episode of season 2 of the punisher. Reader is loosely based on Beth, but works at a diner instead, makes pottery, and has a cat.
— Read below or at AO3.
“If this was a bar, this would be the time to ask for your keys and call you a cab,” you smile, refilling your most notable bearded patron's mug.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” his voice sounds like gravel covered in molasses when he uses that pet name, only for you. “If I promise not to drive, would you sit down and have a cup with me?”
“I uh…” you quickly glance around the diner. There’s only one more customer left at the counter. “Sure, let me finish first.”
The man sitting at the booth gives a small nod, lifting his cup to his lips. You brush his shoulder with your free hand before walking back behind the bar.
You don’t know his name yet, or much about the life of the tall and brooding coffee-addict that likes sitting on your section. The only thing you know, besides his favorite beverage, is that he’s traveling across the country, and that this little town in Indiana is just one more stop in his journey. He’s been staying at Odell’s Motel for a few weeks and during that time, he’s become a regular customer at the diner you work at, and sort of acquaintance of yours. His order is always hot black coffee. If you had it on tap, he'd drink it directly from it, you believe. Rare nights he’s had any food. A couple of times, you’ve comped him with a sandwich or a piece of pie to make up for the fact that he always leaves generous tips.
As you set the pot in its place, you smile in his direction one more time before going back to your task. The kitchen has closed already and all you have left to do is clean your station.
While you wipe the tables, you casually glance at him from the corner of your eye to see him peering out the window as usual, like a dog on neighborhood watch. He seems to do that a lot. It looks like a habit; like you chewing the inside of your mouth when you're too focused on a task.
The next time you gaze at him, however, you catch him staring back at you, and you quickly avert your eyes away to your hand, wiping a rag on the sticky surface of the fourth booth.
You're not sure why, but you revel in the fact that he might be still staring at you right now.
Probably. Hopefully.
Do you want him to look at you and see you past the mustard-yellow uniform and white apron?
Maybe you're just lonely and can't help but see signs that aren't there. But like a moth to a flame, when you look at him a third time, his eyes, as you hoped, are still fixed on you as if wanted to pin you against the wall.
He's not a man of many words, but his stare speaks volumes right now. There are no mixed signals there. You've witnessed a handful of times that urge, that darkness, that comes from a primal desire. Whether it is voluntary or not, you can't say. But clearly, it isn't all in your head.
As you carry the tray with dirty dishes to the sink, you manage to contain the itch at the corner of your lip to curl into a grin.
“Look, they’ve found the two missing girls,” Hermann, the man at the counter, points at the TV, driving your attention to the screen above the bar.
You listen closely to the newscaster from the local channel at the scene, narrating how the two teenagers were locked in a basement in the outskirts of town for over a month, up until this morning. A stranger appeared out of the blue, told them they were safe now, before smashing the bolted door open. When they climbed out the staircase, their captor was dead in the living room, hanging by the neck on a wooden beam, and the vigilante that helped them escape was nowhere to be found. Presumably he was the one that killed their kidnapper, the police suspects. After all the information and gritty details, there’s some brief footage of the girls reuniting with their families before moving on to the next story.
“At least they’re home now,” you settle the dishes down, wash your hands, and pick up the money Hermann left on the counter.
“Have a good night, honey,” the old trucker says before heading out the door.
“Yeah, you too.”
Once Hermann is out, you’re left alone with the mystery man in the booth. It’s then that you pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit at the other side of the table.
“Guess nobody's waiting home for you either,” you say casually, capturing the warmth of the mug on your palms.
“What gave it away?”
“I don't know… Lonely recognizes loneliness, I suppose.”
“You feel lonely, sweetheart?”
“Sometimes,” your shoulders give a small shrug. “Don't you?”
He pauses, swallows as his stare goes down for a second to the beat of his tapping finger on the mug, “all the damn time.”
“Is that why you come here every other night and sit alone?”
“It's complicated.”
“I bet.”
As you take a sip from your mug, tall-dark and handsome produces something from the inside pocket of his jacket.
“I believe this is yours.” He slides a silver charm bracelet across the table that you thought you'd lost. “I found it on the floor the other day. I was going to give it back, but you were busy… I saw the clasp was broken and I–”
“You fixed it!” this time you can't really stop the smile taking over your lips. “I keep forgetting to take it off for work. I thought I'd never see it again. Thanks.”
“Don't mention it. I could tell it was important to you.”
Your chin bows as you secure the bracelet around your wrist.
“I was gonna leave it on the table and take off. But it felt… I guess it felt a little impersonal. And I'm leaving tomorrow and wanted to say goodbye.”
“Oh, you're going on a trip?”
“No, I don't think I won't be coming back. You were kind to me and thought I ought to tell you.”
Though you were seemingly aware that he was bound to leave at some point, you can't help but feel a little disappointed at the failed prospect of getting to know him better.
“I uh… I don't know what to say. I guess I'll miss seeing you around… Don't even know your name.”
There's a light pull up on the corner of his mouth as he spells his name, “Frank.”
“Hm,” you let it sink in for a moment as you try to erase the made up names your mind gave him. “I thought you were a Nathan.”
“Who's Nathan?”
“Someone that used to live around here. You remind me of him, so I gave you his name. It's stupid.”
“You've been thinking about me?”
“I don't know… Sometimes. I don't have anything significant going on in my life. Girl's gotta have some entertainment and mysterious guys like you, Frank, that come and go, and sit here for hours really help pass the time some days.”
“Glad to be of service,” he huffs, lifting the cup to his lips.
“Listen. This might be a terrible idea, but since I won't see you again, I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me. I mean something stronger than this,” you tap your mug with your nail twice.
There goes that stare again that makes your stomach drop. It's even darker up close but gentle and cautious. His eyes travel to your lips, and it feels like an eternity until they finally lock again with yours.
“Yeah, I'd like that.”
Taking a customer home might be the craziest thing you've ever done. It's not really like you to be that forward toward someone you hardly know, but there's something about Frank that fascinates you and pushes you into getting out of your comfort zone.
When your shift is over, you trade your uniform for a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater, while Frank waits outside by your car. He knows exactly which one belongs to you cause one night, while he was driving that flashy, big van of his, he happened to drive by you in the middle of the road, changing a tire. You didn't need assistance, but it was late and having his presence there eased you up.
“You're not like a stalker or a serial killer, are you?” you ask in a moment of trepidation before unlocking your car.
“Would a serial killer tell you that they're a serial killer?”
“I guess not.”
“Look, we can call it a night, sweetheart. No hard feelings.”
“C’mon, get in,” you grin, firmly using your chin to point at the passenger door.
During the short drive to your house, you poke around for some more information about what he was doing in town exactly and where he's going next. As usual, he doesn't give you more than a few vague answers. However, you do learn that he doesn't really have a destination in mind at the moment. He's just driving aimlessly.
After putting your bag down, you give Frank a quick tour around the living space.
“If you see a cat around, don't let her sit on your lap. She’s very territorial and likes to pee on strangers,” you warn him from the kitchen, collecting two glasses from the cabinet along with a bottle of bourbon while he curiously looks around the place.
“Got it,” you can hear a chuckle in his voice as his eyes are drawn to the messy dining table that holds an assortment of homemade pottery like bowls, plates, vases, mugs, jars… that you craft and sell online.
“Do you make these?”
“Uh-hm,” you hand him his glass and silently tap your glasses together before taking a sip at the same time. “You like them?”
“Yeah, they’re something…” he lowers his glass and slowly scans your creations, “I can't find the word for it… but they’re unique. I like the texture. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s Wabi-sabi.”
“Wabi-sabi?” his hand smooths his beard, letting a finger slide in the middle.
“Yeah, it’s Japanese. Simply put, it’s the philosophical concept of embracing the beauty of imperfection and simplicity that comes naturally from age or wear. Whether it’s something personal or purely artistic. It’s about accepting, loving, and living with those flaws in harmony. Like your nose.”
“What about my nose?”
“It’s kinda broken, but it fits with your face.”
He bashfully looks down at the amber liquid in his glass before taking a swig.
“Did you go to art school?”
You shake your head, and gesture at the couch, “I took a few classes at the community center when I was younger, then picked up a few techniques from books, videos… It’s mostly self-taught.”
“You’re really gifted,” Frank follows you and takes a seat on the armchair while you kick off your shoes and sit crossed-legged on the couch.
“I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t have to moonlight as a waitress to keep the lights on. What do you do for a living, Frank?” You lift your drink to your lips.
“This and that. Construction for the most part.”
“Any secret talents I should know about?”
“Not really.”
“Hm. You’ve really mastered the man of mystery art, though.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“I just… I’m not good at this. Talking to people. Or beautiful women like you.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“Gorgeous,” he says under a breath, gazing intensely at you with those piercing browns that make your stomach flutter.
Trapping your bottom lip, you shyly glance down, unable to say anything other than a small, “thanks.”
“I’m not good at this either,” you confess after a beat. “I don't usually bring men that I hardly know home like this.”
“Does it make you nervous that I’m here?”
You lightly shake your head, “I don’t know why, but I trust you, Frank.”
“I trust you, too. It's funny how that works.”
“Yeah.”
You throw your glass back, downing half of it, letting it burn your throat and giving you the courage to stand up and take his hand.
Without objection, Frank laces his fingers with yours. His warm, large paw encloses almost your whole hand as you kiss his cheek, and guide him to your bedroom. Your heart pumps faster along the hallway and slightly settles when you turn on the lamp and feel Frank giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
As you turn to him, he releases your hand to hold your face instead. He captures your eyes with such care in his sweet browns, making your knees weak. His thumbs softly caress your cheeks and when he's ready, his head leans closer to press a chaste kiss on your lips. His beard tickles your skin, making your lips curve up the second time he sweetly captures your mouth. On the third try, his lips part and nibble your bottom lip. He lingers a bit longer before opening wider.
You close your eyes and follow his lead. It's hard not to. He takes it nice and slow, letting you get used to having his hands and lips on you.
Tentatively, you frame his waist while his tongue softly moves past your lips. Almost like asking for permission to enter, it swipes the curve of your mouth first and waits for your approval. You hum softly as you send yours to find the bittersweet taste of coffee mixed with bourbon lingering all over his mouth.
Once he's crossed that threshold, you both surrender to that underlying desire that's been clearly building up for weeks. One second is all paced and measured, the next one, he's eagerly stealing all the air from your lungs, claiming your mouth as his own.
“Wow,” you pull back to breathe, “I think I’ve found your secret talent.”
“Yeah?”
Top tier, you think, biting the inside of your cheek as your gaze falls to your own hands, still clinging to his sides. You watch them carefully move to unzip his black hoodie.
Transfixed, he watches your fingers just the same, letting you bare his skin. There's no shirt underneath when you push it behind his shoulders, just his hairless Greek-God defined torso molded in flesh and bones, adorned with several scars.
Frank lets the hoodie fall to the floor as you undo his belt, and tug the waistband of his jeans and step backwards in the direction of your bed.
“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” That's the word, the pet name, that makes you melt like ice-cream left on the sun-bathed pavement on a hot summer day.
“I've never been so sure of anything in my life,” you overstate on behalf of that dormant lust that has been neglected for months.
His lips curve up as he pulls the hem of your knitted sweater over your head. Subconsciously, you then cover his eyes the next second before he can take a good look at you in your underwear. His mouth splits his beard into a smile that shows his perfect, bright teeth. Your palm runs down his face, stroking his beard and when his eyes are uncovered, instead of looking down, his browns stay locked with your gaze. His head leans close, as one of his hands holds your jaw, keeping your face still while he steals another kiss from your lips.
When his face pulls back, he softly draws the curve of your wet lip with his thumb pad, reverberating under his breath, “absolutely gorgeous.”
It's a good thing the mattress is right behind you, cause you feel like swooning. You sit down and look up at him as your back falls down against the covers.
His pointer finger makes first contact with your skin, tracing a line down your stomach, producing a good laugh out of you.
You beckon him with just a look and a lip bite, and Frank takes that as an invitation to help your legs shimmy out of your jeans. His stare darkens at the first sight of your almost naked form. You could've picked sexier underwear if you knew this would be happening tonight, you think. It’s not like it matters, anyway, cause you can tell it's not going to last much longer on you as soon as he unzips his boots and crawls on top of you, nestling between your legs.
The buckle of his belt presses on your skin as he claims your mouth one more time, with feeling. One of his hands slips between your hair as the sweet undoing of his tongue drives you out of this world. Your palms land on his back, nails dig in his flesh as his hips roll slowly, rubbing his growing bulge in the right spot.
There's an electric force at the tip of his tongue, an urgency of his hand to wrap around your neck without pressing. It makes you hold your breath, makes him feel in control. If he wanted to squeeze the lights out of you, he could. It should frighten you, but it does just the opposite. Your core aches at the thought of letting him use your body however he'd like.
His work becomes more sloppy and needy the harder his erection strains behind the denim fabric. He curls an arm beneath you, blindly fumbles with his fingers to undo the clasp of your bra.
Once he’s rid of it, the rest of your underwear follows the same path to the floor, and so does his own clothes.
His head bows, planting his lips on your abdomen, and from there he leaves a trail of wet kisses and beard tickles up to your sternum. One of his large paws is drawn to your breast as his lips veer off the path to find your opposite nipple. He gently nibbles the hard peak, as your back arches. You sigh in pure delight, letting your fingers weave into his mop of curls as his puckered lips blow cool air over the wet patch he's left. It makes your skin buzz as he moves to the other one to pay it the same attention.
You're drenched in your own juices when you adjust your legs as he carefully guides his firm cock to your entrance. Looking at the ceiling, you shut your eyes as the blunt tip breeches and stretches your wet walls. It feels as big as it looks, takes all the room, but doesn't hurt one bit.
Propping his elbows on either side of your head, he waits for you to be ready to roll.
“You good, sweetheart?”
Your eyes flick open, “yeah, just… go slow.”
With a tender curve of his lips, he nods as you experimentally move your hips back and forth, taking him a little further in.
Frank moves with you, following your cues. His mouth stays close to yours, breathing you in, watching you enjoy yourself as your walls get slicker and tender stroke after stroke. It helps you move a little faster each time as you get used to his size.
First times are always awkward, but there's something about Frank that makes you feel at ease. Ironically, this is the first, last, and only time you'll have him like this. Which is something that just dawns on you as your breathing quickens.
The embers of your core turn to flames and spread like wildfire across your body, consuming every thought and nerve ending for the sake of that final gratification.
You moan Frank's name, and use your hands to push his ass lower, coaxing him to go faster, dig deeper. Every inch of your body deliciously aches with each thrust, each grunt with your name laced to it, and that beautiful beard that brushes your skin after every push. His firm body grows hotter and firmer beneath your palms. Once you've given him the go, he doesn't hold himself back. His drive is sharp and nimble.
Frank buries his face in your neck as the room is filled with a symphony of grunts and moans, measured by the adamant rhythm of his hips slapping against yours.
You close your eyes and savor this moment as he slowly takes you up to cloud nine. It's a daunting climb, but he takes the challenge and waits for the right second to fall off the edge with you. As your opening contracts around him, and you ride that torrent of pleasure that overcomes you, he releases the most animalistic grunt you've ever heard when his seed spurts all over your walls.
A man like him hasn't ever trembled in your arms after an orgasm. His body goes completely limp on top of you. And you hold him close, petting the wet curls as his nape while he slips out of you and that high slowly ebbs.
“And you said you had no talents,” you say hoarsely, with a dopey smirk plastered on your face.
“I don’t like boasting,” he grins against your skin before lifting his head tiredly to look at you.
Combing your fingers in his hair, you push back those tousled-damp curls off his forehead.
“Well, If I had known you'd be that gifted, I’d have invited you over sooner.”
“Yeah?” Biting his lower lip, his head dips to sweetly seize your mouth.
“Hm-hmm.”
“I can stay all night if you want. Could make it up to you for all the time wasted. Would you like that, sweetheart?”
What the hell. If this is the only time he'd be in your bed, better take the chance of making this a memorable night, you think.
You simply nod and watch up close, one of your fingers slide across the texture of the pockmarks on his cheekbone.
“You like those? Is it wasabi, too?”
“Wabi-sabi,” you point out with a light chuckle, “and yes, I like them. They're like moon craters.”
Cradling his nape, you pull his face down and kiss that beautiful spot on his cheek, before settling his head on your shoulder.
He hugs you back and stays in that position for a while, in comfortable silence, as you gather the strength to switch places with him and go for a second round. Straddling on his lap is a vastly different experience. You ride him slowly, while he molds your figure to the shape of his hands. There's no place left untouched when you're done, and shortly after, you both go at it a third time as if you were running a marathon. You share stories and drinks and food in between a haze of sex, kisses, and hugs before finally succumbing to slumber a couple of hours before dawn.
You’re the first one to wake up a few hours later. The sun is already out and before slipping out of bed, you watch Frank for a minute, committing to memory the relaxed expression of his rough features. Then, you carefully pad out of the room to fill your cat’s bowls with food and water and find her sleeping in her favorite spot behind the couch. She only rises from her resting position at the sound of the coffee maker. Soon, she’s slinking between your feet as you go around the kitchen and doesn't stop until you pick her up, give her a kiss and a cuddle, and settle her beside her food bowl.
“Morning,” you hear Frank’s early husky voice as he steps into the kitchen wearing only his pair of jeans.
“Good morning,” your lips curve watching him prop his hands on the edge of the breakfast bar. “Guess you smelled the coffee brewing, huh?”
“Guess so. It’s like a Pavlovian response, I can’t help it.”
You snort, gesturing at bar stools, “please, take a seat.”
“It should be me making you breakfast,” Frank settles his ass on the stool.
“Force of habit. Sorry.”
“I was starting to think you had an imaginary cat,” he points at your furry friend focused on her food.
“No, she's very real. She just likes hiding at night.”
You place a couple of mugs on the counter, fill Frank’s up close to the rim, and only pour half of yours.
“Be careful, it’s hot,” you place his coffee in front of him.
Frank scoffs, picking it up and lifting it up to his lips as he says, “that's never stopped me.”
You dread every second left after that, knowing that once he’s out the door, you won’t see him again. You’ve grown used to having him around the diner and last night, what you two shared, was just one of the best things that’s ever happened to you lately.
Rather than expressing that out loud, you put one of your handmade mugs in a box and give it to him as a parting gift.
Then, you drive him back to the motel he’s been staying at.
“Thanks for the mug,” he gives you one last tight hug. “Take care, yeah?”
“You know… you could stay a little bit longer,” you awkwardly suggest when he releases you. “We have that roast you like coming in today, I think. If not for me, at least do it for the free coffee.”
“That’s tempting, but I gotta move on now, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I get it,” you sigh, tucking your hands in your jacket's pockets, as one of his palms moves to hold your chin. His head tilts to the side to leave one last kiss on your cheek before stepping away.
After climbing into your car, Frank closes the door for you, and watches you from the sidewalk as you drive away before collecting his bags from his temporary room.
You go back to your usual routine after that little adventure you had with him. You run some errands around town, mail some orders from your online shop, go grocery shopping and have some lunch before your shift at the diner.
Frank barely leaves your mind that day, especially after you slip into your uniform and open the new coffee order in the pantry and start a new batch.
“I swear he has a thing for you,” Jody, friend and fellow waitress, says as you work the coffee maker.
“Who?”
“The hipster. He’s in your section again. Look.”
You frown and turn your head to see Frank sitting in his booth, flicking the pages of a newspaper. A smile instantly takes over your lips as you try to hold the excitement of running towards him.
“Wow, I guess you have a thing for him too. I don’t know how I missed that,” she realizes. “Well, go on, say hi before someone swoops him up.”
Swallowing, you wait till the pot is filled to walk over his table.
Frank licks his lips when he sees you stepping closer, and turns over the mug sitting on the middle table.
“So, how far did you get?” you hold the pot steady, filling the cup.
“Dunno… a couple of hours, give or take.”
“Hmm.”
“Guess it took me a second to realize how good that coffee was.”
“Want something to eat with that?”
“Maybe later when you’re done… we could… would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
#beardthalbash#frank castle#frank castle x reader#the punisher fanfiction#jon bernthal fanfiction#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal#the punisher#darlingwrites#smut#fluff
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Bartering 101
Dark!Shane Walsh x F!Reader
Summary: Shane drives a hard bargain.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Dub-Con, BJ, Sexual Coercion, Degradation, Pet Names.
Word Count: 807
— Read below or at AO3.
A/N: Following AO3's tagging system – I chose not to use certain warnings to avoid spoilers. By clicking 'keep reading' you accept that you're aware of the mature and possibly triggering nature of those themes.
Shane Walsh is an asshole. That’s a fact. You were warned before knocking on his door, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
You needed to use a radio, and Eugene's was completely on the fritz. So the only alternative was to barter with the ruthless scavenger in the compound who had the only working radio that wouldn’t be intercepted by The Commonwealth.
“Save those for another time, sweetheart,” he waved off the ammo box you brought, rubbed a palm on his buzzed head before throwing back a glass of bourbon.
“But Dixon said-”
“Don't care about what Dixon said,” after placing the glass down on the table, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt. “My radio, my rules.”
“What do you want then?”
His lips curled into a vicious smile while his hands moved to unbuckle his belt, “your mouth.”
“That's ridiculous, Walsh. That wasn't the deal.”
“Like I said, my radio, my rules. Tell me, sweetheart, how bad do you need to use it?”
“Not that badly,” you scoffed, throwing the ammo back into your bag.
“Are you sure?” He sauntered in your direction with his fly half undone, forcing you to back up until your back touched the wall.
His hands braced the wall on either side of your head, caging you, as you gulped down the lump lodged in your throat and let the bag in your hand thud on the floor.
He licked his like lips, tilted his head to the side while you took a moment to consider whether it was worth it to accept his disgusting offer. The truth was that you really needed to make contact with your friends that traveled outside the walls. You had information that could save their lives, and couldn't leave his fucking apartment without using the damn radio.
For a second, you entertained the idea of picking up the knife in your belt, shoving it in his neck and letting him bleed out before dragging him out to the woods at night. But Shane Walsh didn’t mess around. No matter how skilled you thought you were, he had the upper hand and wouldn’t hesitate on crushing you like a bug before you could draw your blade.
“I work at the hospital, I could get you pills. The good kind.” You tried one more time.
“Uh-uh, I already have my eyes on something else,” He cupped your chin using his thumb to tug on our lower lip. “C’mon, I’ll make it quick, sweetheart. I promise.”
Swallowing your pride, you let your back slide along the wall until you were down on your knees.
“Attagirl. I knew you couldn't say no to a cock with lips like those.”
“Go to hell,” you gritted between teeth as he whipped out his half hard erection in front of your face and waved it like a flag.
“Already there,” Shane scoffed, pumping his hardness a couple of times before haphazardly shoving it into your mouth without a warning.
His bulbous head was already wet when it pried your lips open. It immediately made you sick to your stomach when it touched the plane of your tongue.
You had to remind yourself that it was for a greater good to keep your jaw slacked instead of biting his thing off.
“Hey! Make a fucking effort here, or there'll be no radio,” he scolded, grabbing harshly on your chin.
You inhaled deeply, wrapped your lips tighter around him, and bobbed your head for his pleasure. He grew firmer as you did, and you tried not to gag when his head grazed the back of your throat.
“That's it. That's the stuff,” he lewdly grunted, looking down on you, pushing his fingers in the hollow of your cheeks. “Good God, look at you. You're such a little whore.”
Admittedly, being degraded in the right situations always turned you on. In a case like this, you hoped it wouldn't happen. You tried your best to keep your composure, but for whatever fucking reason your body wasn’t immune to his power play, and soon you started feeling that tingle that brought some wetness between your legs.
You hated that.
Digging your nails on your thighs, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to focus on your own arousal but his. You could tell how much he loved it by the lascivious taunts, and those swollen, throbbing veins that pulsed hard between your lips.
“Oh, Jesus Christ! Keep your head still, sweetheart, I wanna fuck your mouth now,” he gripped at your hair, and kept the back of your head pressed against the wall as his hips started pushing relentlessly into your mouth as deep they could. That time made you gag. He didn’t care, he kept going. Forced his load deep in your throat and didn’t pull back until you swallowed every drop.
#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh#twd fanfiction#shane walsh smut#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#fanfiction#smut#darlingwrites#dark!shane#kinktober#my one and only contribution to kinktober#😅
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Afternoon Delight
Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader
Summary: You and Michael are just two good friends with a lot of chemistry that have sex on occasion, and today is one of those days he shows up at your apartment to benefit from that mutual agreement.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Friends with Benefits, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names.
Word Count: 1,4k
— You can read below or at AO3.
“Your boyfriend is here!” your roommate announces, knocking on the bathroom door as you step out of the shower.
“Boyfriend?” with a scoff, you wrap a towel around your soaked body before opening the door to see who she's referring to.
Poking your head out the hallway, you find Michael standing in the middle of the living room.
It strikes you as odd to see him this early and that your roommate called him your boyfriend, cause you and Michael are not currently dating, or ever will be, — but who knows, stranger things have happened. Right now, your relationship boils down simply to two good friends that have sex on occasion, with no bullshit or feelings in the mix. By keeping this uncomplicated, you avoid the upheaval of pain and regret you've felt in the past with other guys you've dated. This situation has been a good solution to ditch all those problems.
However, Michael's been coming and going so often that some people might view that as dating. It’s true, you two are really cute together, and have explosive chemistry that could blow up the roof. You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t thought about asking for more a couple of times, but for now this is all you need.
You and your roommate are not exactly best friends, or have known each other for long. So, you’ve never considered it important to explain the nature of the mutually beneficial relationship you have with Michael, and you’re not going to start today.
“Hi, welcome back!” his smile beams from across the room.
“Hey, what are you doing here so early?” you beckon him, and he follows you into your room.
“I thought you said to come pick you up at 3.”
“I didn't. I'm pretty sure I said 8. When have we ever hung out at 3? Nobody ever ha–” you’re cut off when Michael fishes his phone out of his pocket and shows your message on screen up to you to realize that you indeed typed 3 instead of 8. “Oh… I was jet-lagged when I wrote that. My bad, but I'm glad you're here anyway.”
“Yeah? You've missed me?” He tucks his phone back into his pocket.
“I haven't missed you missed you. But I've missed this face,” you hold his chin tightly in your fingers, leaning in to smooch his cheek.
Unable to fight a smile, his lips curve up beautifully as you let go of his face.
“How was your trip, sweetheart?” Michael takes a seat at the foot of your messy bed while you move to search through your opened, unpacked suitcase.
“Long. I hate flying. Here, I got this for you,” you toss a light-weighted, wrapped present at him.
“A gift for me?” He catches it in the air, tears the paper to find a novelty apron that has printed – kiss the cook – on the fabric with an arrow pointing down. “This is probably the worst gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“You’re welcome,” you say with a mocking shrug.
“C’mere, baby, I have a gift for you too.”
“You do? I didn’t see you bringing anything.”
“It’s right here,” his pointer finger taps on his lips twice, “you have to come get it, girl.”
Grinning, you sit on his lap sideways. As one of his arms curls around your waist to keep you secured, his opposite hand frames your jaw, guiding your face to capture your mouth. He offers three small kisses, and then he nibbles at your lower lip, sucks it lightly into his mouth and releases it, just how you always like it.
“That’s all you got?” you purr against the corner of his mouth.
“You’re always so greedy, sweetheart. You think you deserve more in exchange for that crappy apron?”
“Yeah, I fucking do. It's the thought that counts.”
“That so?” Scoffing, he presses a kiss on your neck before picking you up and settling you down on the mattress without breaking a sweat. Locking eyes with you, he hovers over your body as one of his hands untucks the corner of the towel that was keeping it in place over your breasts, and spreads the fabric to the side to uncover your body.
With a low hum, he presses another wet kiss on your lips before having his tongue trailing down your torso. He leaves a wet trail from your neck, across the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, around your navel. The tip of his tongue viciously stirs your arousal before reaching the crux between your legs.
“Hi, sweet thing, I’ve missed you so much,” he plants a few kisses all over your vulva when he reaches that spot.
“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” you prop yourself on your elbows as he stares up at you.
“Hm, both. But mostly your pussy. Is that okay?”
“Sure. She’s missed you too. Have at it,” you laugh softly and place your head back down as he buries his face between your thighs.
His eager tongue traces every fold and inch of your cunt, collecting your juices at his passing. You ball the sheets in your fists as he slowly, but surely, makes your whole body buzz with excitement in a few licks. Your nipples harden and your head spins as the plane of his tongue flattens against your folds.
“Hmm,” you pull your knees further apart, close your eyes, and slide your fingers in his hair. “Be gentle. Walls are paper thin, baby.”
“Let her hear you,” he laughs against your pussy before letting the tip of his tongue lap around your clit.
His arms curl around your thighs, as one of his hands massages your mound, the other marks its fingers at the curve of your hip.
The pressure of his tongue is absolutely delicious. It keeps teasing around your clit for a long moment before having his lips wrap around that sweet spot. Up until that point, it’s easy to keep your moans buried in your throat. When he starts sucking and licking and grunting oh so fiercely around your sensitive skin, devouring you like a wild animal that has been fasting for days, he forces those drawn groans past your lips.
Your taste, the wanton sounds that he earns out of you, and the way your body writhes is the cause for his cock to bulge out his jeans. It aches for a good fuck, and he can only press himself against the mattress to gain some friction. His tongue has great determination to make you come before shoving his dick inside you. It’s all Michael thinks about, just burying himself in your slicked walls and filling you with his cum. It fuels his unwavering passion.
Out of the blue, you get momentarily distracted when music starts blasting through the walls, and you bring your hands to cover your heated face, realizing your roommate is definitely hearing you. As embarrassing as it is, you use that as an opportunity to just let go and focus on how good it feels to have him between your legs.
After a moment, you place your hands back down, knotting your fingers back in his hair and pulling as hard as you can, unable to control yourself as he brings you closer and closer to the brink.
It doesn’t take him long to make you meet that sweet undoing that elevates you to a higher plane. He’s always had that ability. But today is special because one – you haven’t seen the other for two weeks; the longest you've gone without benefiting from the other. And two – the unexpected surprise of him showing up earlier gives you that extra edge of excitement that has your legs trembling with practice eased in this afternoon delight.
When all your muscles seize up, and you can’t stop squirming and cursing his name, he takes it up a notch until you come undone. As your mind swirls in that bubble of pure bliss, he stops altogether, but keeps his mouth close to press soft kisses against your sensitive skin while your breathing catches.
You let go of his hair and let your arms fall to the sides, watching a blurry vision of Michael crawling over your limp, tired body.
“How was that, sweetheart?”
“That was beautiful. You’re beautiful. Everything your tongue does is beautiful,” you reiterate with a dopey smile, cause you can’t come up with a different word at this moment.
Staring adorably at you, he caresses your sweaty face as you regain enough strength to lift your hand and swipe his lips with your thumb to clean your juices lingering all over his mouth. “You think you got more for me, baby?”
“For you? Always.”
#michael berzatto x reader#michael berzatto#the bear#the bear fanfiction#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#darlingwrites#smut#fluff
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Something Crazy
Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader
Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.
Word Count: 4,6k
— You can read below or at AO3.
Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.
They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.
Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.
Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.
You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.
While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.
“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.
“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.
“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.
“She's got a point, babe.”
“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”
“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”
You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.
The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.
“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”
“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.
“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.
“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?
“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.
“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”
“Uh-hm.”
You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.
“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”
“I know,” you mumble timidly.
“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”
“You told him, didn't you?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.
“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”
“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”
“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.
“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”
“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”
In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.
She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.
Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.
Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.
The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.
Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.
Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.
“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.
“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.
“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”
“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.
You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.
You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.
“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.
“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.
“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”
You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”
“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”
He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?
The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.
He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.
“No Richie today?” you break the ice.
“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”
“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”
“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”
“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.
“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”
“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”
“How so?”
“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.
“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”
“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”
“Men aren't usually direct with you?”
“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”
“That would explain a lot.”
“Gee, thanks!”
“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”
“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”
“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.
You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.
Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.
You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.
“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Did your sister put you up to this?”
“Why would she?”
“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”
His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”
“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”
“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”
You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.
With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.
Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.
“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.
“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”
“I doubt that.”
“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.
“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”
“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”
“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”
“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.
“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”
“Oh, big time!”
“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.
“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.
“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”
“Words out of my mouth.”
“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”
“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”
Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.
“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”
If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.
There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.
“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.
“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”
“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”
“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”
“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”
“I have my moments. Trust me.”
He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.
“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.
“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”
Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.
“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.
“A little,” a lot, actually.
He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.
“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”
You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.
You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.
There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.
The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.
When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.
“What’s wrong?”
“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.
“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”
“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”
“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.
He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”
“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.
“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.
“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.
There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.
You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.
When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.
“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.
“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.
You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”
Right.
His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”
Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.
A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.
You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.
When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.
There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.
You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.
Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.
When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.
He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.
His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.
The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.
“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.
Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.
“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.
He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.
“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.
“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.
If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.
He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.
His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.
For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.
When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”
“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”
“Right.”
“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”
“I'd love to, sweetheart.”
#michael berzatto x reader#michael berzatto#the bear#the bear fanfiction#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#jon bernthal smut#darlingwrites#smut#fluff
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Kiss the Cook
Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader
Summary: When you wake up, you find Michael cooking breakfast, wearing only the apron that you bought for him.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, HJ and BJ (m. receiving), Friends with Benefits, Crack, Pet Names, Crass Phallic Humor.
Word Count: 1,1k
A/N: This is a second part to Afternoon Delight. They can be read separately since there's not much plot.
— You can read below or at AO3.
Though Michael doesn’t own the most comfortable mattress, when you wake up on his bed, you feel completely rested. You were spent last night when you came here under the premise of decompressing after a long day of work just for a quick fuck, instead you must have ended up falling asleep cause besides your feet being free from your shoes you're still wearing all your clothes. He must have moved you to his bed too cause you don’t actually remember getting into his room at all. The last thing you saw before you drifted to slumber was the glow of the TV.
One shoulder cracks when you stretch your arms before getting out of the tangled mess of the sheets.
Minding your steps, you walk into the bathroom to relieve the pressure on your bladder, and after washing your hands, you rid your mouth of the awful morning breath by using some of his Listerine.
As you head out to the living room, you catch a whiff of something cooking and the next second, you're met with Michael's backside in the kitchen wearing only an apron while he cooks something on the stove top. His cute little bottom is on full display between the edges of the apron. His ass cheeks jiggle a little when he quickly reaches with one hand to grab a spatula that was sitting further away on the counter.
You can’t stop yourself from sneaking on him and giving a small pinch to his butt.
“Morning, tushy,” you laugh as his head promptly turns for just a second.
“Hey, go back to bed, baby, I was going to surprise you with breakfast.”
“Too late. I'm already up,” you link your arms around his waist while he keeps working on an omelette that smells delicious. “Is this the apron that I brought you?”
“It is. Thought you'd like to see me wearing it at least once.”
“I do like it, baby. It looks good on you,” per the fabric’s suggestion of 'kiss the cook' you lean in closer and smooch his jaw.
“How did you sleep, sweetheart?”
“Good, I think. I haven't slept that much since… Forever. Thank you for taking me to your bed.”
“Of course.”
“Though, you should have taken off my clothes.”
“I thought about it, but it felt weird to do so while you were out. And I didn't wanna wake you up.”
“Aww, such a gentleman.”
“That's right,” he glances over his shoulder and kisses your nose before transferring the cooked omelette to a plate. Then, he pours another bowl of whisked eggs into the pan to make a second one. “Do you want anything else, sweetheart?”
“Hmm, I'm in the mood for some sausage.”
“Sorry, I'm out of sausages.”
As you slip your hands under the hem of his apron on both sides, you say, “really? Cause I think you have a perfect sausage ready for consumption right here.”
You curl both palms around his soft dick and jerk him slowly.
“You're literally playing with fire, baby,” he hisses, trying to keep his focus on the pan as he folds the omelette with the spatula.
“I know. That's the fun of it,” you smirk, getting his cock to harden in your hold. “How about some chorizo?”
“Uh-uh, the best I… can do…” he scrambles to get his words out as he grows more solid, “...is ham.”
“No ham. I need something with more sustenance. What was that thing you ordered the other day with the weird ass name?”
“Longaniza?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Don't have any, either.”
“That's too bad. I guess I'll have to settle with this one,” his full erection fills both your fists now, and leaks some precum that you extend along his shaft to ease the motion.
As you grip harder around him, you watch him struggle, promptly putting down the spatula, and bracing his hands on the edge of the counter.
“Fuck…”
“Sh, sh, sh. Keep cooking for me, baby. Don’t let it burn.”
“You're a fucking menace, girl,” he grumbles, and against his body’s wishes he collects the spatula and finishes that second omelette while you keep toying with him.
“You're the one who decided to wear just an apron to surprise me. We both know what you were up to when you made that decision.”
Despite your best efforts to get him to mess up, he manages to finish that second omelette with flying colors. Then, he turns off the stove and closes his eyes, enjoying the undoing of your eager hands around his hardness.
“Can I have some of this now, please?” you purr and nibble against the curve of his neck.
Michael can't and wouldn't ever deny you a request like that. Especially from you. The way you make him feel is something unexplainable. He becomes putty in your hands every time you come around. This is proof of it. So, as you take a step back and kneel on the floor, he turns around, and watches your teeth sharpen, and mouth water, at the prospect of taking him between your lips. You roll up the hem of that ridiculous apron over his hips to uncover that impressive erection you've proudly baked.
“Wow, you really put the long in longaniza,” you quip, bringing one hand up to hold the underside of his cock.
“You’re so fucking dirty,” he snorts and watches your tongue mischievously flick across your bottom lip before pressing a quick kiss on the blunt head of his dick.
“Don’t complain. I know you like it when I’m dirty,” you place a string of kisses along the shaft without taking your eyes off his.
Michael traps his bottom lip beneath his teeth and watches your lips sensually wrap around him. He places a palm on your jaw and draws with his thumb the hollow of your cheek when you take him shamelessly deeper into your mouth. It's a damn sight better observing you from above, fiercely wanting to please him. More than the act itself, it's the passion you put into it that makes his cock ache and throb. It's something unparalleled to watch how you almost take every inch of him into the depth of your mouth.
Your head bobs faster as you take him closer to the edge, you see his eyes glare behind a layer of gloss and lust. You grip harder at the base, revel in the way he tastes in your mouth, and use your other hand to massage his balls.
“Attagirl, keep going,” he deeply encourages between grunts, grasping your face tighter, with both hands framing your head now, as his hips automatically jerk into your mouth a few times. “You like it when I fuck your dirty mouth like this?”
You hum in response and let him drive into you during that final stretch. You keep your lips tight, your jaw slacked, that hand still holding his scrotum, and let his cock use your mouth until your tongue is covered with every drop of his warm, sticky cum.
#michael berzatto#michael berzatto x reader#the bear fanfiction#the bear#the bear fx#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal fanfiction#smut#darlingwrites
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Professor Castle II
Frank Castle x F!Reader
Summary: Frank takes you to Curtis' wedding in Florida as his date.
CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Mutual Masturbation, Kissing, Feelings, Age Gap, Professor/Student relationship.
Word Count: 6.5k
— Links: First Part // AO3.
A/N: I wasn't planning on adding another part to this, but this idea came to me as I was finishing the first one and I had to write it. There are a lot of mixed feelings and romance and smut. And we also get to know how reader and Frank got together in the first place. Billy and Dinah have a significant appearance here, and Billy is kind of a bitch. I can never bring myself to see him in a better light, even in an au like this.
It's Friday afternoon, after a hectic day of work and classes, that you get on a flight to Florida to accompany Frank to one of his best friends’ wedding.
It feels like a pretty surreal experience that he wanted you to come along, and that you also said yes. The last time you were invited to a wedding you were probably eleven or twelve and were seated at the kids’ table. Going to an affair like this as an adult with your very grown-up, secretive boyfriend feels like skydiving with no parachute.
It's already dark by the time the plane lands in the evening. The knot in your stomach tightens as you get off the plane. You were already nervous before taking off. Once your feet touch ground in Florida you wish you had a longer flight. It all happened so fast you didn't have time to prepare yourself for the idea of meeting Frank's friends. It's basically like meeting his family. Whenever you've heard stories about Billy or Curtis, he always talked about them as if they were blood brothers. So the whole thing becomes more scary the closer you get to the hotel.
There's a sudden shift during that half an hour ride to your destination. Internally, you feel like you still should hide your relationship with Frank, but he's been holding your hand the entire way there. You can't bring yourself to process how good it feels not having to care about if someone might see you or not. For months, being constantly alert is all you've done. It was exciting at first, but not as much as having his big paw holding your hand out in the open while the shuttle driver asks if you're here on vacation.
The building you arrive in sits so close to the ocean you can hear the waves crashing on shore and smell the fresh saltwater lingering in the air before you get out of the vehicle.
Once you've checked in, you get to a lovely room on the third floor with a view to the pool where a group of people enjoy an evening dive. You open the door to the balcony to let the air in, while Frank checks the rest of the room.
“Are you okay, baby?” Asks Frank as you lean on the railing outside.
“Yeah, just a little tired.”
“Well, there's a bed right here.” He points out before opening his suitcase on the mattress to take out his suit.
“It looks like a nice bed.” Glancing over your shoulder, you watch Frank straightening the fabric before hanging it in the closet.
When he's done, he joins you on the balcony, linking his arms around your waist.
“Should we go out to dinner or stay and order room service?” He softly kisses your nape.
“Hm, I'm fine with either. What do you wanna do?”
“Well, It'd be nice to go out since we never get to do that. But on the other hand, we haven't been really alone for a couple of weeks, and I was really looking forward to having you all for myself tonight.”
“It's still early, my king. We can do both.” You tuck your arm back to caress his jaw.
“Yeah? I thought you were tired.”
“I'm also hungry. Let me change and get rid of the airplane smell, and we'll go exploring.”
You unpack your suitcase and hang the outfits you picked for the next couple of days next to Frank's, which is such a bizarre thing to do. It's going to be an interesting weekend without having to put much thought into the secrecy of your relationship. Something as simple as just holding hands or letting your clothes live next to his, even if it's just temporary, makes you feel that normalcy most couples have. You wonder if this is what the future holds for you and Frank. It begs to question if this is the future you want with Frank.
Both of you freshen up and change into clean clothes. You slip into a long skirt with a halter top in your favorite color and a pair of sandals while Frank dons a pair of black chinos and a brown polo shirt.
Heading downstairs you go straight to the restaurant, sit at the bar and order some drinks first while you wait for a table.
“What?” you're chewing on the end of a straw when you notice Frank stare weirdly fixed on you. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No, you’re perfect.” His gaze beams full of wonder. “I just… Look at you. You're so beautiful. I can't believe you're here with me. I thought we'd never get to be out like this.”
“It’s kinda weird, isn’t it? But in a good way.”
“Yeah. C’mere,” his hand slides along your jaw and stops at your nape. A flick of his tongue swipes his lips before planting a wet one on your mouth. It lingers for a moment before diving for a deeper taste. It takes you off guard, and you almost want to pull back as soon as the tip of his tongue escapes past your teeth. It’s when it tries to meet with yours that you awkwardly pull your head back. His palm massages the back of your neck as you press your forehead against his, feeling a pang of sadness thrum in your chest.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Your head slightly shakes, as you look down at your hands holding his forearm on your lap.
“I just… I feel like everyone is staring at us.”
“Let’em.”
“Frank.”
“Baby, I’m serious. Nobody is watching us. Look around,” his hold loosens around your neck and your head swivels to see that in fact no one is interested in whatever you and Frank do. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with an old man like me?”
“You’re not that old.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“I’m not embarrassed to be with you, Frank. I… I wish we could do this all the time like normal people do. It feels like after this weekend, we’ll never get to do this ever again. I know we just got here, and I’m just being dramatic, you don’t have to say it. But uh… it makes me sad we can’t go out like this at home.”
“Baby, I get it. I wish I could have you like all the damn time. It breaks my heart to see you every day and have to remind myself not to look at you or touch you or kiss you.”
“Sorry for bringing you down with me. It's been a long day. And being here with you is a little overwhelming. It's brought a lot of stuff to the surface I never even considered before. I see it comes out so natural for you to do something like holding my hand or kissing me, and I feel bad that there’s this weird thing blocking me from enjoying that.”
“Hey, don't apologize.” Frank sighs before gently pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I'm the one who's sorry for not realizing sooner that this was a bigger deal for you than I thought. I just wanted you here so badly, I didn't think what this meant for you– for us. How about we go back to the room, order something, put on a movie and take it slow.”
“No, it's okay. I'll be fine. I wanna get used to this. I wanna be here with you, Frank.”
“Yeah?”
Drawing a smile, you simply nod and squeeze his hand a little harder.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“A couple of times. It doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”
Your lips pull up a little higher, as you lean forward to attempt to resume the kiss he started.
“Mr. Castle.” The restaurant’s hostess interrupts you just as you press your lips against his. “Your table is ready.”
She guides you to a table by the window with a view to the beach.
“Your waiter will be right over,” she politely says before going to fetch more people to place at the empty tables.
Despite being still a little nervous about the whole thing, you’re so over the moon with Frank, that it's easy to relax more and more in his presence. He knows how to smooth things over with just a few sweet words or an adoring glance framed by those glasses that really show the beauty of his eyes. You never thought he'd be this casual and forward when it came to showing public displays of affection. You're both overly cautious, but here, it's like he's flipped a switch in his head and all his problems are gone. Despite his impromptu decision the other day when he tried to break up with you, it feels like he's been dying to be able to show the world that you're his, and he is yours. You adore that about him and try to ease your mind into being more present right here and let go of all those worries that sadden your heart. Even if it's just for two days, you should be able to enjoy what you got.
By the end of your meal, you’re halfway through your dessert when a couple approaches the table.
“Hey, Frankie!” Billy, who you recognized from one of Frank’s pictures, makes him stand from his seat to give him a hug.
“Bill,” he addresses him before looking at the woman by his side. “Hey, Dinah. Good to see you again.”
“Yeah, good to see you, too.”
“And you must be the mystery woman Frank never told us about until a couple of days ago,” Billy directs his attention to you as you extend your hand in his direction.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“Oh, she’s funny.”
“You have no idea.”
They both shake your hand as Frank sits back down.
“Thought you were going to turn in early like the rest of the party.”
“That was the plan, but we decided at the last minute to come down. You guys wanna join us?”
“No, we’re going to this swing by this bar down the street. You should come.”
“We've already had a couple of drinks,” Frank says. “We were about to call it a night.”
“C’mon, just a nightcap. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you. And you just can’t bring a date to Curt’s wedding and not properly introduce her like she deserves.”
Frank glances at you and shrugs, “you wanna go?”
“Just one drink?”
“Just one drink,” Billy repeats. “I mean if you’re old enough to drink.”
He says so casually it throws you off, but you’re quick to reply when you’re nervous.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that but yes, I’m old enough to drink.” You prove it by lifting the almost empty cocktail glass from the table and bring it to your mouth to finish it.
He mimes his fingers zipping his mouth as Dinah gives him a look and Frank hangs his head down.
Once the momentary awkwardness has passed you choose to follow them down the boardwalk to a crowded bar at the end of the street. You take a table outside and order some drinks. You go for another cocktail, the guys have a couple of beers and Dinah settles for scotch on the rocks.
“So, Frankie here has strictly forbidden us to ask you questions. What is he trying to hide?” Billy stares at you from the other couch with his elbows leaned on his knees.
“I didn't say that. I only asked you to not give her the third degree.” He scoffs.
“It's okay.” You laugh, placing a palm at the small of Frank's back. “What do you wanna know?”
While Billy questions you about your life, where you come from, what you’re majoring in, what your hobbies are… Frank tries to remain not too bothered but often chimes in to say – you don’t have to answer that, when Billy pokes into something way too personal.
Almost through with your cocktail you stand up and head to the bathroom and Dinah stalks behind you.
“Didn’t realize you were coming too,” you say when you notice her holding the door after you step into the room.
“Yeah, I needed a break from hearing Billy talk. Don’t mind him, he always had a big mouth. It’s pathological, but he’s harmless… for the most part.”
“He’s… intense,” you say for the lack of a better word. “How long have you two been together?”
“Oh, we’re not together together. We just hang out sometimes.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” You lean on one of the sinks while Dinah fixes her makeup.
“How long have you been dating Frank?”
“Hm, almost a year.”
“You know, I dated a teacher once at the academy, but it was nothing like you and Frank.”
“How so?”
“He didn’t take me as a plus-one to a wedding for starters. It was just sex. I can see that it’s more for you and Frank. Is it?”
“I uhh… I think it is. It’s crazy that he invited me here.”
“Yeah, he’s been moping around for a couple of years since his last girlfriend. It’s good that he has you now. How did that happen?”
You can see that Dinah and Billy have more in common than she lets on. They definitely share the same hunger to gather information from anyone. You don’t mind them poking around to know more about you. It’s actually refreshing being able to talk about you and Frank for the first time, and if Frank has told them about you, it means that he trusts them.
“Well, it’s not an interesting story. We didn’t fall in love at first sight, or shared longing glances across hallways, or pass secret notes, and shit. He uh… we used to go to the same café outside campus that has the best coffee. One day I saw him trying to pay with his phone cause he forgot his wallet, and it wasn’t working cause he’s technologically inept to handle any app. So I paid for his coffee. The next day he paid for mine and I helped him manage his digital wallet. We started taking more and more outside class. We would walk together back to campus. Over time, it took us longer and longer to make it back. We would stop at this park to look at the ducks in the lake. Sometimes we fed them to stall. Though neither of us gave a shit about the ducks-”
“Of course,” Dinah softly smiles at your remark.
“Then I’d tell him I’d be at this art show, or go to this movie, whatever shit I was doing, hoping he’d show up, and he did. It was like that for months, one day we looked at the other, and we knew… I guess we fell in love. And at the same time we realized that we couldn’t see each other like that anymore. So we stopped hanging out. That lasted like three weeks tops. We were both miserable.”
“And then what happened?”
“I… it was the end of the semester, before finals, I had my first play, and he came to see it.”
“He came to see you.” She accurately points out.
“Right. Once it was over, he went backstage to say hi to everyone. I… before he left I said to him to wait for me in his car and he did. After everyone left, I headed out to the parking lot, got in the passenger seat and told him to drive. We talked for hours, trying to convince ourselves once more that we couldn't be together, that I'd never work, but it didn't matter. We made a choice and now here we are. We’ve been hiding for months and it…”
“It finally feels right to say it out loud.”
“I think so… I can’t tell anyone else in my life right now. It’s hard to trust anyone with a secret like that. But if Frank told you I guess I can trust you.”
“You can. I get it. Sometimes you can't choose who you fall in love with.”
“How come something that’s supposed to be wrong feels so right at the same time?” You’ve been wondering for months.
“That’s a complicated question, sweetie. But it’s usually the things that are supposed to be wrong that feel the best, unfortunately.”
Meanwhile, outside, Billy grills Frank a little more about you on a totally different approach than Dinah’s.
“C’mon, Frankie. You can’t be serious. You know you could lose your tenure if they find out.”
“They’re not going to find out.”
“If it was just sex I’d get it. I’ve had my fair share of coeds. The difference is that I’m not their teacher, well, sometimes they like to pretend that I am, if you know what I mean. But you’re bringing her to Curt’s wedding, as your date. That’s nuts.”
“Why is it so hard to believe that I love her?”
“Cause you haven’t been with anyone since Maria and the first person you date is one of your students. Does it sound sane to you? Are you having a midlife crisis or something?”
“You know, out of everyone, I thought you'd be the last one to judge, Bill.”
“I'm not judging you, Frankie. I'm just checking that you haven't completely lost your mind. Someone has to. You look like you're willing to risk it all out for her. Is she worth all that, your job, your reputation, your precious principles? I thought you had a code.”
“She's absolutely worth all that. Can you say the same about Dinah? When are you going to stop playing with her?”
“Me? She's the one who calls the shots. She's the one playing with me.”
“Yeah, sure.” Frank scoffs before taking a swallow of his beer.
“Okay, let's just say it's a game we both love playing. I use her, she uses me, it's a win-win situation.”
“Until someone gets hurt.”
“Well, some people like that. How are you keeping up with her?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean bed wise. I know from experience that twenty-year-olds are like feral cats. Can you handle something like that?”
“Jesus, Bill. You're fucking disgusting sometimes. Don't talk about her like that.”
“What? Have you forgotten how you were at her age? You were either fucking or thinking about fucking.”
“Not everything is about sex.”
“Right, so you're not having sex.”
“That's none of your business.”
“Well, if you're so willing to put your ass in the line, I hope you're getting at least something out of it.”
“That's all that is for you, huh? You never do anything unless you're getting something in return. Everyone and everything is trading businesses for you. Even love.”
“Love is for children, Frankie. Never did anything good for anyone. Look at you… Every woman that ever touched you left a deeper mark than the last one. I’d rather be shot a hundred times than having to carry imaginary scars. What do you think is gonna happen when she's done with you? You think a girl like that is ready to commit forever?”
“You're so full of shit, Bill. You talk big game, but you never made it past the side lines. If that's where you wanna stay there, fine, but don't pretend you know how it feels to put yourself out there and offer yourself without expecting anyone to hand everything to you right away.”
“You used to be more fun.”
“Well, your idea of fun is different from mine.”
“Hey, what did we miss?”
Dinah and you return to the table that seems to have gathered a visible dark cloud over them.
“Nothing, get your stuff. We're going back to the hotel.” Frank barks, promptly rising from his chair.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened between you and Billy?” you straddle Frank's lap on the bed. He's taken off his glasses and most of his clothes and the only thing left is his boxer briefs. You tried to pry on the way back here, but he was clearly still upset about something. Now that he's more relaxed you try again while you comb his hair with your fingers. “Was he mean to you? Do you want me to kick his bony ass?”
“I'd like to see that,” he chuckles as his palms smooth the bare skin of your thighs. “There's nothing to tell, sweetheart. He's just an asshole sometimes. I'll get over it. C'mere.”
He tucks a finger under your chin and pulls your face closer so he can seize your lips. You can tell he's trying to distract you from asking further questions but if he's not ready to talk about it then there's nothing you can't do right now. You happily accept his affection and quickly melt in the slow undoing of his tongue as it finds yours. It's easy to forget and forgive when he has you like this. All rational thought abandons you and suddenly your hips are grinding against him, following the same rhythm as his tongue as it becomes more eager to please you. His hands hold tight to your hips, coaxing you to feel him growing hard between those layers of underwear keeping your flesh from coming to close contact.
“God, I've been dying to have you like this, sweetheart,” his breathing falters between sloppy kisses.
“I know.” You break from his mouth and press your forehead against his, gazing down at the spot where your centers rub together to see his cock bulging up like mad.
Frank gets a hold of your top and swiftly pulls it over your head so he can kiss your tits. He buries his face in your chest while your arm curls around his nape. He's all tongue, teeth, and lips inciting your skin to come alive into tiny pimples. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, hums around it, and bites hard as you let out a breathless gasp when his teeth sink into your flesh. Before it starts hurting he releases it to see a faint mark around the circumference.
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah?” Biting his bottom lip, he draws the shape of your jaw with a finger before shifting positions with you to have you on your back. That same finger traces the length of your torso all the way down to your underwear. He takes a full sight of you for a beat before yanking your panties off you and pushing his boxers down.
His feet shimmy out of the fabric, as he lowers himself on top of you, letting you meet his full erection that throbs over your tender, slicked flesh. His warm breath heats up your face when he presses his parted mouth at the corner of your lips. He viciously rubs himself against you, collecting your juices all around his cock. Then he buries himself inside you as your whole body trembles as usual. Every time he penetrates you like this, the most thrilling chill takes over your body before you can even come. It settles at the back of your head, as all your senses are taken by that powerful lust force that you can’t control. Each thrust of his hips, each kiss, and lick, and word whispered in your ear takes you closer to heaven. He fucks you with mind, body and soul, like real men do, making you come with ease each fucking time.
“Tell me you love me,” you moan against his jaw, while you dig your nails on his back.
“I love you. I fucking love you, sweetheart.” He desperately pants as the pace of his hips becomes more urgent.
“Tell me you need me.”
“Of course I need you. All the damn time.”
You both gradually lose your ability to breathe the closer you get to orgasm. His sweat sticks with yours as your bodies melt together in that haze of love and lust bubbling all over the room.
“Tell me you’re never going to leave me again.” It sounds needy as you say it, but you need to hear it over and over, especially now.
“I promise…fuck. I promise I’m never gonna leave you again, baby.”
One of his hands clutches to your hips to keep you still while he fucks the light of you with unbridled passion. You can feel every inch of your body vibrating to the sound of his skin slapping on yours. Your breath comes out forced in short breaths as he makes that final effort that tips you over the edge. Your walls flutter and contract around his cock for a moment as you reach the top of your climax.
“I’m gonna… fuck,“ you’re squeezing him so hard, he just spills all of himself inside you while you ride that tide that makes your vision blur and ears ring for a moment while he tries to tame his own orgasm.
When you come to your senses, he’s dead weight on top of you, limp and hot, kissing your neck softly while he regains his breath. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears still as one of our hands blindly glides up his back.
“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” his voice comes out hoarse.
“I know.”
“What you asked me to say… you know I mean it, right?”
“I think so.”
“Are you still scared that I’m gonna leave you?”
“A little, yeah. I… it was just seven days ago when you told me that you didn’t want to see me again. I know you didn’t mean it and that you only wanted to keep us safe, but it was a hard week, Frank. I’m not mad at you. It’s just been a roller coaster of emotions, and now we're here together, playing like a normal couple and I can't help but feeling a little insecure about all of it. Not just you.”
“I'm sorry,” he shifts on top of you, lifting his head so he can capture your eyes. “I really am. I hate to make you feel that way. I know it's confusing but you gotta know something. You… You're all that matters to me. I’d die without you, sweetheart.”
“Now, who’s the dramatic one?”
“I only learned from the best.”
The next day, the wedding ceremony is set at noon.
Half an hour before the event, everyone starts gathering at the lobby to walk together to the beach. Frank holds a palm at the small of your back while he introduces you to Curtis finally and a handful of friends. He manages to avoid stumbling onto Billy altogether.
When you get to the beach, Dinah beckons you to take a seat next to her on the fourth row. Meanwhile, Frank stands next to Curt in the makeshift altar framed by swaying palm trees and a spectacular backdrop of vibrant blue skies adorned with wispy clouds and a blinding sun. Right by the groom’s side also stand Curt’s brother and Billy, who seems to be feeling the icy chill of Frank’s cold shoulder. You’ve never seen him this mad at anyone before and by the way Billy occasionally glances at you and Dinah, you start to wonder you're the cause of their rift.
Frank has traded his glasses for aviators and shines so handsome in a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and no tie. Everyone is dressed in light fabrics and bold colors. You’ve chosen a floral romper and wedges.
Waiting for the affair to start, as you produce a pair of shades to shield your eyes from the sun, Dinah lightly touches your arm.
“You know I don’t agree with Billy at all,” she says coolly as if you had any idea what's going on. “I told you he was harmless, but he can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“I…” You glance at her, trying to gather some thoughts cause you’re really lost right now.
“Oh, Frank didn’t tell you?” She realizes by your expression. “I'm so sorry. I thought you knew.”
“No, he didn't tell me. I asked him. He said that it was just Billy being Billy. But I could tell it was more than that.” You're afraid of asking but if it's something about you, you have the right to know. “Bill doesn't like me, does he?”
“It's not that. He believes Frank isn't thinking clearly when it comes to you. Said you're just an infatuation that's going to get him in trouble. I'm sorry that you had to hear it from me. Frank should've told you.”
“It's okay. It's nothing that he and I hadn't thought of before. It's hard to hear it from someone else's mouth though. I guess that's why he didn't want to tell me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it'll be fine. I don't know Billy enough to care about what he thinks. It's me and Frank that matters.”
“You have more class than me. I'd definitely get back at him if he tried to alienate anyone in my life like that.”
“It's not really my style. He can think whatever he wants. It's a free country.”
“I shouldn't tell you this but… just so you know he didn't get any of this last night. After you and Frank left he kept whining like a bitch and I just had it with him.”
“Oh God, I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. It's not your fault.”
When the music starts playing, everyone rises from their seats to watch the bride walk down the aisle. They exchange bows under the most stunning setting you’ve ever seen. Though you don't know Curtis and Delia besides Frank’s stories, it's straight up lovely to see two people in love celebrating their joy with family and friends.
Once they’ve sealed the ceremony with a kiss, they cross the aisle together as husband and wife between joyful cheering and applause.
Then, the party moves to the reception in a locale nearby. It's held outside under a canopy of flowers and fairy lights illuminating the array of tables framing the dance floor. The food is served buffet style and your plate is 90% filled with shrimp when you take a seat next to Frank.
“Did you leave some shrimp for the rest?”
You simply shrug, amused, “you snooze, you lose. That's the rule of the buffet. Are you nervous about your speech?”
“A little.”
“Just pretend you're in class giving a lecture.”
“Yeah, I'll try that.” He gazes at you as he brings a piece of salmon to his mouth.
“And if that doesn't work, you know what they say… picture everyone naked.” You start stuffing yours with pieces of shrimp.
“I don't see how that'd be better. I don't wanna see any of these people in their birthday suits.”
“Then focus on me and my birthday suit.”
“I'll try that.”
Frank, of course, despite having some jitters about that best man speech he just has the right words to say about Curtis and Delia. He even makes everyone laugh with a couple of heartfelt jokes about his friendship with Curt. It's really endearing to see him among his people. You can tell that he's made a tight-knit group of loyal friends that'd be there for him for the rest of his life.
As the day progresses, and the alcohol starts taking effect a few people step into the dance floor. You spot Dinah dancing with Curtis’ brother and Billy sweet-talking to one of the bridesmaids by the buffet.
“You having a good time, baby?” Frank's arms circle your waist while you pick a glass of wine from the bar.
“I'm having the best time. Everyone is really nice.” You take a sip of your glass.
“I told you that there was nothing to worry about. Everyone loves you.”
“Well, not everyone.” You tilt your head to the side to point at Billy. “You should've told me what happened.”
“I didn't want to upset you.”
“I'm not upset, Frank. Like I told Dinah, I don't know him enough to care about what he thinks. I know you were trying to protect me, but you don't have to.”
“It's not that, sweetheart. I'm just tired of having the same conversation. We know what we're up against. Figure I could save you the headache of going through all our faults again. There was no point in telling you all the bullshit that came out of his mouth.”
“Well, that's good to know, but I don't want to hear it from other people either. If he said anything about me, I have the right to know, don't you think?”
“He didn't say anything specifically about you, baby. It was mostly about me choosing to bring you here.”
“But it really upset you. You should've told me.”
“I know, I'm sorry,” he kisses your jaw. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Hm… let me think,” you sway your hips, making him move with you. “I think a dance will suffice.”
“Sweetheart, I love you, but I can’t dance to this.”
“I can wait for a slow one.”
“Alright, but just one song.”
“Got it.”
As much fun as you had with Frank dancing without a care in the world, there's nothing like being back in the hotel room to rest for the night. Mingling with that many people can be exhausting and though you had a great time, you revel in the quietness and comfort of these four walls. To wash out the day of your skin, you take a shower together. Then you lay naked on the bed, face down with our arms tucked under your head while Frank's hands massage your back. His fingers knead all the right spots until you’ve completely relaxed before feeling his lips pressing soft kisses all over your spine. One of his hands slips between your thighs. You separate your knees further apart to make room for it as he softly massages your sex. His palm gently rubs back and forth while he presses his mouth to your ear.
“How does that feel, baby?”
“Good. So fucking good,” you hum. “Don’t stop, please.”
“You gonna make a mess for me, huh?” you notice one of his fingers slipping between your folds to feel those early drops of arousal. “Yeah, you always do.”
You laugh to yourself as he presses a little harder, drawing mind-numbing circles around your clit.
“God, I love you so much.” You lightly wave your ass at his touch, aching for more fiction.
Frank takes the hint and uses his index and middle fingers to rub harder around your hardened nub as he presses his semi-hard against your hip.
“Look what you do to me,” his breathing echoes in your ear, while he rubs himself on your skin. “You proud of yourself?”
“Not quite. You should be harder already,” you turn your head to look at him and move your closest hand to grab his length.
He laughs against your mouth before sending his tongue to taste your kiss.
Mutually serving the other, his cock grows harder in your fist, as you melt around his fingers when they invite themselves into your opening.
“Open your legs a little more, sweetheart,” you heed his command. “Attagirl.”
His thick fingers quickly are wrapped in a sheen layer of your juices as he pushes them in and out repeatedly, letting your arousal drip on the sheets. At the same time, you massage his raging erection that barely fits in the curl of your palm anymore when it's fully swollen.
“I wanna feel you, Frank,” you purr on his lips as he drives you out of your mind.
“Yeah? Want me to come inside you?” He makes a point to press his fingertips hard on your g-spot to earn a good moan out of you.
“You need me to beg?”
“A little. Yeah.”
“Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Say what you whisper in my ear when you wake me up in the middle of the night just to fuck.”
“I'd die if you don't wake up right now and fuck me,” you sigh. “Please. I need you, king.”
“That's my girl. C'mere.” He takes his fingers away and handles your body so you're laying on your side. He pulls your back flush against his chest and drives the blunt tip of his cock smoothly between your legs.
“God, you're always so fucking wet.”
“Just for you.”
As you adjust your leg to be more comfortable, he tucks his arms around you. His bottom arm slips under your armpit to hold your chest, while his opposite hand rubs its fingers on your clit. Frank thrusts come long and dragged. His mouth opens at the crook of your neck to devour your flesh. You take the hand holding your tit and bring it up to your mouth so you can take his fingers between your lips.
“Fuck, you're gonna make me come, baby,” he rumbles in your ear when you blow his fingers as if it was his cock.
You can tell he's ready to burst by the way his length twitches inside you every time his fingertips touch the back of your throat.
Wrapped in an ethereal veil made out of love and lust, your bodies sync up and lace in an intricate knot, moving together like one. You expel the same shallow breaths. Pulses follow the same pattern. Arch your bodies at the same angle. He keeps a steady rhythm on your folds, you keep your mouth tight around his knuckles. When your legs start trembling, he trembles with you. You beg him again, to go harder. Your core fuses with his as the flame between burns brighter and hotter the closer you get to the top. Overwhelmed by the intoxicating haze, at the very last second, his body gives up and falls out of cadence. Frank comes with the force of a waterfall before you do. A deep grunt echoes in the room as his hips erratically keep pushing for a couple of seconds until he’s spilled every last drop into you.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby,” his breathing falters.
“It’s okay. Just don’t stop. Please.” You pull your mouth away from his hand.
“Sh, sh, I won’t. Come for me, baby.” His fingers stay glued to your clit, his cock remains hard, and deep buried inside your walls while he keeps viciously rubbing on it to grant you your release.
You're so close, you can feel your body about to meet that same force. You clutch your hand around his wrist as your body locks for a beat before being overcome by that whirlwind of pleasure that takes you to a higher ground.
Frank holds you tight as your body goes limp in his embrace. You’d die here if you could, in his arms wrapped around you, in the comfort of his kisses and his voice in your ear telling you how much he loves you.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle#frank castle fanfiction#the punisher fanfiction#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#jon bernthal smut#angst#smut#fluff#darlingwrites#made a mini moodboard cause i couldn't choose just 3 pics
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