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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait.

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you.

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington.

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched.

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet.

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face.

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could.

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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obbystars · 25 days

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It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

#it was gonna be a frank sinatra lyric but it turned into laufey #i love laufey #the frank sinatra one was gonna be and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you #it sounded nice #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #hsr x reader

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wosoamazing · 2 months

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Sad Times & Surprises

Summary: You get upset because everyone seems to be ignoring you on camp.

Warnings: None?

A/N: It's only short and I deffo have written better fics. Hope you like it. Also this was based of a request but I can't find it....

You lightly knock on the door, Sam opens it.

“W-where is Steph?”

“Kyra isn’t feeling too well, so she is just with her currently, I don’t know if she is coming back or not”

“Oh okay, don’t worry then,” You start to turn around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter” you said bitterly, you hadn’t completely fixed your relationship with Sam, you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

“It clearly isn’t nothing,” she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you walking away “you wouldn’t come knocking on Steph’s and my door if it wasn’t nothing, it has to be quite a big something considering you’re here in front of me.,” you hated how well she knew you.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but at least sleep in Steph’s bed, she might come back at some stage,” she moved to the side to let you in, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating what to do before you ultimately found yourself walking into the room, you slumped onto Steph’s bed, and crawled under the covers. However you weren’t able to sleep, and instead finding yourself tossing and turning in the bed.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after around 10 minutes, you sat up and looked at her, except you couldn’t respond, your words choked you, and your body quickly let its protective barrier fall, as tears started to stream out. You didn’t really know what was wrong. It seemed to be millions of miniscule things, some of which you couldn’t even pinpoint what they were, they just all seemed to have joined and become too much and now you were here, sobbing, in a room, in a bed that wasn’t yours. Sam quickly got out of her bed and joined you in Steph’s bed, pulling you into a tight hug, you melted in her arms, she held your hand and rubbed it with her thumb, trying to help comfort you, you slowly managed to fall asleep

You woke up to Steph in the bed with you rather than Sam. Steph had come back during the middle of the night and was confused when she saw you and Sam asleep in her bed. So she woke Sam up and asked her what was happening, Sam explained before she moved back to her own bed and Steph joined you in her bed.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steph asked after she noticed you were awake. You just shrugged your shoulders in response to her, you didn't actually know what was happening. She hugged you, before you got up to get ready for breakfast.

____

The rest of your day went about as usual. Until training.

____

You had to split off in teams and went over to Steph, Kyra and Caitlin as you were usually with them, however they had Mary this time, it was Tony’s decision to swap the strikers around but Steph and Caitlin didn’t get the chance to tell you that before Kyra lied to you to tease you. “We don’t want you in our team anymore, because you’re leaving us.” She said in a childish voice, her comment which you knew she said to be annoying tipped you over the edge, and you could feel tears welling in your eyes. You went over to the drinks, where the staff were, which someone would do if they were injured slightly, however you didn't stop there, instead you just picked up your water bottle and kept walking along the edge of the pitch as tears started to spill from your eyes. Tony looked over to see what was up, but he just received a shrug back from some of the staff, so he looked around at his players.

“I’ll go,” Sam said before jogging to catch up to you, when she did reach you she stopped in front of you before putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Want to tell me what's wrong now?” She asked.

“It’s dumb,” “No it’s not, it’s upsetting you whatever it is, how bout we go round the corner so no one can see us.” You nodded before you both made your way around, you slumped down on the ground and leant against the building, Sam sat down next to you and just waited for you to talk.

“I don’t know what's wrong. I just feel like no one likes me. I feel like everyone thinks I’m the issue and everyone is avoiding me because of last camp.”

“Oh Y/N/N, you know that isn’t true right. Everyone still likes you.” She pulled you in for a hug.

“Then why will no one talk to me, or like only make small talk with me, Ellie even avoided eye contact with me before.” You let out a deep breath “Am I just being too sensitive?” you said as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“No, you aren’t. If you promise not to tell anyone, I have something to tell you,” you nodded at her “Well, I might have organised a surprise for you with the team, you know, because you’re moving to Barça, but I told them not to say anything at all, not even that we have a surprise. And you know the team, they are all huge blabs, so I think they are avoiding you so they don’t slip up.”

“What is the surprise?” you asked her as she started to get up.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said, she had her back to you but you knew she was smirking you could even hear it in her voice.

“But Sam.” you whined

“Are we going back to training or what, I’m pretty sure your new captain wouldn’t be happy hearing that her newest addition is slacking off on national camp,” “You wouldn’t” “Oh but I would.” She said as she started jogging back pulling out her phone for effect.

“Sam, I’m coming. Don’t you dare,” she was joking right.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #auswnt #matildas #matildas x reader

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seren1tyhaze · 3 months

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poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice.

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him.

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow.

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs.

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body.

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out.

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap.

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #jisung smut #park jisung x reader

337 notes · View notes

literaila · 6 months

Note

"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

732 notes · View notes

janaispunk · 1 month

Text

constellations in his eyes

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

word count: 736

tags/warnings: infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

a/n: this is based on the song high infidelity by taylor swift and written for @beskarandblasters’s taylor swift drabble challenge. i love taylor and this song and dave, so this was very fun 🫶🏻 check out the whole challenge masterlist here!

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

(apologies to everyone who’s waiting for the next safe and sound chapter, i promise it’s almost done 🫠)

It’s your birthday, April 29th.

Rain is soaking through your dress, the drenched fabric clinging to your skin, wet strands of your hair sticking to your forehead. Unfamiliar lips are pressed against yours. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this happy.

You’re supposed to meet your fiancé for dinner tonight. When you call him, you’re already seated at the table, waiting for him to meet you there.

“Give me a break,” he sighs at your demand for an explanation, “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to buy you dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. None of those guys from your office available tonight?”

“Fuck you.”

You slam the phone back onto the table, swallowing down the angry tears that are starting to well up in your eyes. You have been dealing with his unreasonable bouts of insecurity and jealousy because you’re working in a male-dominated field for way too long. You had hoped that he would get over it eventually, but it had rather gotten worse, mixed with remarks about how he made more money than you and how thankful you should be that he took care of you.

After staring down at the table for a few moments, you pick your phone back up again. If this is what he thinks of you any way, you might as well give him a reason to.

“Hey. Can you come and pick me up, please?”

Of course Dave could. You’re often assigned cases together, are often huddled up in the office when it’s already dark outside and your colleagues have gone home. You like working with him, like how quiet but straightforward he is, how he understands your way of thinking. You like him.

You’ve been out for drinks before, to celebrate successfully solved cases, but nothing more, no matter how many times he hinted at being interested in more. Because you’re not that kind of woman, despite what your fiancé apparently thinks.

Until now. It’s your birthday and you’re gonna spend it with someone who actually likes being around you.

When you walk out of the restaurant, he’s waiting for you, his brow furrowed in concern, immediately asking if you’re alright. You nod, mumbling something about a change of plans, nothing to worry about. You can tell that he doesn’t buy it.

He’s walking you down the block to his car, one hand at the small of your back. You feel yourself melting into him and his calming presence beside you, into the self-assured way he’s taking charge.

Neither of you had expected the sudden downpour, soaking the both of you to the bone within seconds. You stop in your tracks, staring at him in surprise for a second, before you burst out laughing.

You stumble over your own feet as you try to keep walking and instinctively grab his arm. He turns in your direction and steadies you, an amused smirk on his face, his hands a heavy weight on your hips, his touch burning into you.

You lean in and kiss him before your mind catches up with your actions. He stills for only one moment before his lips start moving against yours with a caressing urgency that makes your heart clench with longing.

Your hands cling to him, to his shirt underneath your fingers that’s just as drenched as your clothes, to the broadness of his shoulders that’s sending a rush of excitement through you. The absurdity of the whole situation makes you giggle against his mouth and you feel the rumble of his own laugh more than you hear it while his arms are wrapping tighter around your waist.

You don’t care that you’re in the middle of the sidewalk, that rain is still pouring down on you, that this is not the man that you’ve agreed to marry.

Because when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, the lights of the city reflecting in his dark pupils, like constellations that you want to get lost in. For the first time in forever, you feel seen. Your fingers burrow into his hair and you pull him closer again, connecting your lips with his once more.

When you reach his car, he opens the door for you and asks if he can take you home with him. You say yes.

None of it feels real, but you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a long time.

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, commenting, sending an ask or interacting in any way. it’s really what keeps writers going <3

#janas fics #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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crowcravesmore · 22 days

Text

Dead Girl Walkin' (Frank Castle x F!Reader)

AKA 'Bounty & Bliss'

Frank Castle x F!Reader (18+)

+ After a mission gone wrong, you end up on the wrong side of Fisks gun, and now you're a wanted woman. You have 30 hours of freedom before every bounty hunter in New York has his eyes on you, so of course you run straight to Frank. Oh how he loves the sight of you.

Word Count: 5.1k ( It's actually impossible for me to write a "short" fic. I'm a wordy bitch, I can't help it. I love to talk.)

Warnings: Cursing, violence, reader getting beat tf up (She's got powers it's fine), explicit content/smut, Frank being such a softie for you, fluff (is that a warning?).

A/N: LETS GO FRANK CASTLE LOVERS! I absolutely adore this man, and I think it shows in how I write him. This is an oldie from my previous blog, but it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It's a long one so buckle up. (This fic was absolutely based on the song Dead Girl walking from Heathers the musical. Take that as you will.)

+ + +

It was an absolute fact that you weren't gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with at least two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that's it.

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you're a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face.

Third punch is to your jaw, and that’s the one that knocks you, and the chair you're strapped to, back. You’re taking this whole thing in stride, you haven't passed out or anything. Be proud of that. After the fourth punch Fisk finally waves his hand and lets— what's his name? Rick? This guy looks like a Rick —stop. You ever been hit with brass knuckles by a heavyweight? It sucks.

You were hired by an unnamed client to sneak into Fisks club, and put mics anywhere you could. It was easy getting in without being noticed, unfortunately for you Fisk has eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you one of your powers is strength, so a couple of blows by a heavyweight won't kill you. It fucking hurts though.

Fisk says something, but he’s standing on the other side of the room and your ears are still ringing, so he really says nothing. He turns, catches your eyes, and there's a curious sort of smile on his face. Your ears are still ringing but, over all of the noise, you catch him say ‘Again’, and brace yourself for impact.

Rick, son of a bitch, knocks you hard, just under your eye and you can practically hear the bruise forming. You must’ve blacked out for a second because when you blink there’s Fisk, dropped to his haunches in front of you. It takes thirty seconds after you start drooling blood for him to start back up.

“You’re a real woman, you know that?”

“And what does that make you?” Your voice doesn't even sound like you, it’s too scratchy, and your words are hard to make out.

Fisk sort of ignores you and says,“And Because I'm a nice guy,” Pulling a white handkerchief—Christ—out of his shirt pocket and wiping your mouth. “I'm gonna make this easy on you, how bout’ forty eight hours? Sound good?”

You’re so stubborn. Like, way too stubborn for your own good, that’s what you’re gonna tell Frank when you explain why you spit your blood in Fisks face. And because you’re a real woman.

“Thirty hours,” Fisk says, gripping the bottom half of your shirt, using it to wipe his face, and standing up. “Butch,—” So that’s his name, he looks like a Butch. “Show her the door.”

Brace for impact.

You can't be that mad though, I mean come on. After that stunt you pulled at the Quagmire tonight you’re surprised you’re even still walking-uh -running. So yeah, thirty hours and after that you’re gonna be a goddamn beacon of come get me for every baddie in New York. Okay, you gotta stop running or else you’re gonna pull something, and catching a cramp probably isn’t the best thing for you right now...just sayin’.

You pitch from a sprint to a light jog and eventually stop, bowing over and pressing your hands to your knees. A long groan crawls out of you, and you shake your head. The middle of 10th and 42nd isn’t the place to let it hit you. Clear your throat, spit, stand back up, keep walking.

You decide to swerve out of the road and onto the sidewalk, that way you’re not ass out for everyone to see. And it’s a helluva sight. You’ve got a bruise forming just under your right eye and your nose is busted to shit, not to mention the blood- that you’re not even sure is all yours- caked over you. All that and you probably smell like a back alley.

You shift and adjust, turn right toward the dock, and pick up the pace.

‘I can run,’ you think, digging your thumbnail into your palm. ‘haul ass to Seattle, become some poor fisherman's wife.’

That doesn't sound all too bad, besides the fact that Fisk has got eyes all over this goddamn city. You so much as even look toward the bridge and his thirty hours-oh-mercy are gone. Poof! You won't even make it out of New York.

A street light flicks off for a second before coming back to life, and you dig in your back pocket, fishing for your phone. It’s a mess of cracks and smeared blood, but still manageable. You click it on and the screen gives a few half assed flashes of light before turning on. Yeah, still manageable.

You wipe the screen against your shirt and pull it back, checking the time. Twelve oh five. Good, he's still up.

•

Frank's van is static under the west bridge, just next to the pier. It’s a beige camper he’s had since way back when, and is still too sentimental to give up. It’s rusted, a hubcaps gone missing, and the battery is standing on it’s last leg, but don’t ever tell Frank it’s anything less than perfect. Seriously, buddy, don't do it.

You called it a piece of junk once, something mumbled between Frank trying to turn the engine over and almost flooding it.

“If you don’t like it that much, Sunshine, you can walk back.” He shakes his head and turns the key over again. The engine makes an almost awkward sort of noise. Something like a cr-r-r-eek! Before gray smoke creeps its way from under the hood. “God fucking damnit.”

You're ninety percent sure the only reason he didn't knock your head through the window is because he's got a soft spot for you....Eighty-five percent.

Your boot knocks against an empty can, probably oil, and Max pokes his head up. He's lying right outside the van's side door, tucked halfway under it with his head on his paws. You go still and try to remember if this dog actually liked you or not.

When he doesn’t move you chalk it up to a definite maybe, and start walking again. He lets out a few half assed growls before crawling from under the van and barking, loud and proud. You throw caution out the window and speed walk toward him, forgetting the fact that he’s a full grown pitbull, and wave your hands in front of you, shh shh shh! No, doggy. Nice, Max! You got a million different scenarios playing in your head, and none of them are good.

Max is howling now, nose pointed to the sky and oh sonofabitch.

You hear a gun cock over your head and now you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. This was the fourth scenario. At the end of that is Frank, standing in a pair of raggedy sweatpants, an old NYU tee, and-Christ he's not even wearing any shoes.

You're still a little wobbly in the legs so you press your hand against the doorframe, and lean. That's it. Play it cool, nice and steady.

“Hey, Frank.” You say, and then. “Can I come in?” You're batting against four hours of sleep and maybe a concussion, so hey, frank is the best you're gonna do.

His shoulders slump down and he points the gun away from you, eyes moving three speeds too fast. Like I said earlier, you’re a helluva sight, girl.

“You look like the back end of hell.” He says, side stepping to let you in, eyes catching on your knuckles. They aren’t the worst of it, but you can tell a lot about a person from their hands, and Frank’s getting the whole goddamn story.

You step up into the kitchen—living room?—and focus on everything you’ve already seen before. The sketchy stain on the ceiling, the empty Budweiser cans, your feet. Just for good measure you pick up a roll of gauze and turn it over in your hand, because this is the most interesting thing in the world, not your bloody knuckles. And definitely not Frank who’s staring down your back, shooting imaginary laser beams your way. Pew pew pew. I’m calling it now, he’s gonna get mad. You know it, I know it, so just fucking face the music before he-

“So,” oh-Kay. He clicks the third deadbolt, and leans his back against the door, gun cocked on the wall, and arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna haveta’ guess?”

He doesn't have to guess, because he already knows. But, he's gonna lean back and give you a chance to say it before he starts pulling teeth.

“This was once in a lifetime, Frank.” You're pushing out excuses and he's barely said anything. “There was an opening-”

“Y/n, what the hell did you do?”

Franks more worried than actually confused. He knows you're in some deep-I'm talking chasm into hell deep- shit, he's just worried he's not gonna be able to pull you out.

“I went to the Quagmire, and Fisk was there.” You wring your hands because of the look he gives you. Priceless. “I had a shot, I took it, I—”

“Tell me you killed him.” He's shaking his head, tilt up, and looking at the roof. He's about to start praying, and lord knows he hasn't done that in a while. “Tell me you killed him, Y/n.”

The throbbing behind your eye is enough to remind you that no, you didn't. You came damn close though, I'll give you that.

Frank blinks, slow squeeze, and groans something low in the back of his throat. He drops his head and drags a hand down his jaw, you're gonna be the death of him if you keep this shit up.

“And,” you gotta get it out now, if you don't do it now you're gonna hate doing it later. “I got a bounty on me.”

“Course you do,” he's looking at you again, but his foot is tapping against the linoleum, so he's beyond mad now. “Is it active?”

You shake your head. “No, I got thirty hours.” You would have forty eight, but he doesn't need to know that...or why you don't anymore.

“Shiiit,” he almost laughs. “Bastard gave you a helluva’ lot more time than me.” His eyebrows tilt down and you catch the way his eyes track along your knuckles. You're standing in front of him, and in this light he can finally get a good look at you. And he doesn't like it. “What'd they do to you, Sunshine?”

There it is. You let out a halfhearted dry laugh and say. “Butch, son of a bitch has a solid right hook.”

“I bet I got better,” He says, lips upturning a bit.

You say. “Oh, I know you do.” And that's it, you're both drawn back into a moment that definitely shouldn't happen. Christ, girl, the man's a vigilante with a truckload of baggage. Stay away. Don't do it to yourself.

You gotta dodge this shit, so you say. “So, what do I do now?”

He gives you a quick once over and pushes himself off the wall. “First, you gotta take a shower, get your mind right.” He stalks over to the hall closet, and starts pulling out random things; a towel, a washcloth, sweatpants, and one of his Rolling Stones T-shirts. He tosses a Then we'll talk, and figure out our next move. over his shoulder and that knocks you back a minute.

Our. Don't dwell on that. Nope, nope, do not do it. You nod, walk over to him, and say. “Thank you, Franky.” Franky’s something only you’d get away with saying, just like he gets away with the whole sunshine thing. It’s weird, you’re weird, leave it alone.

When you reach him he pulls back, giving you this half look between you really okay? and it's okay if you're not. Oh, God, he's gonna have your eyes in the shape of hearts if he keeps this up.

“I'm fine,” You reach a bit more, and he meets you halfway, pushing everything towards you. “You better have hot water though.”

“Baby, you know I do.”

“Mhm, that's what you said last time.”

He says. “Just tell me if it's not hot enough for you, I'll fix it.” And you're positive it's borderline flirty. You gotta occupy yourself with turning on the bathroom light, or else he's gonna see fuuuck written all over your face.

You gotta say something back or it's gonna be one sided, and awkward so you push out. “I'll call you if I need you, Franky.” Low and slow.

Did you just?

Franks mouth pulls up into a grin and he's gotta wipe his hand over his cheek, as if he's just feeling the stubble. Look what you did, you're making him nervous.

Before either of you have a chance to react, the door’s closed and you're pressing your back against it. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man was making a move, but you've got a migraine from hell so you're gonna chalk it up to friendly banter.

You're gonna opt for a cold shower though, just in case.

•

The shower does wonders for you. Your regenerative powers help too, giving your body the chance to heal a bit under the water. You walk out dressed and unstressed with your clothes balled up in your arms, just about to call out Franks name when you hear him say. “Back here.”

You turn and walk into the small bedroom space, just big enough for the two of you. He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes, looking like absolute sin. Okay, yeah, you're cut off from reading tacky romance novels.

“You can just put your stuff on the table, we'll get em’ washed tomorrow.” He sounds tired.

You walk to the kitchenette table and drop your clothes on top of it, before walking back to the room and saying. “Or we could just get my clothes from my apartment, that's a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could, and, you know what, why don't we go to the police station while we're at it and tell them about the bad man named Fisk?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating dumb ideas.” He says nonchalantly, before adding. “You and I both know that it's not safe for you to go to your place, or else you wouldn't be here, right?”

He lifts his arm off of his face and looks at you. Yeah, right. You nod and he nods back, covering his face up again. “Right.”

Truth be told, you'd probably still be here even if it was safe. Truthfully.

You crawl onto the bed next to him and the springs groan out something light and metallic. Lay down, face up, be quiet.

“Y/n.” That's not quiet.

“Hm?”

“You're not doin’ this alone,” Okay. You turn your head to look at him but he's still got his arm over his eyes. “Not while there's air in my lungs.”

You say, “It's not your fight.” And Frank finally looks at you. His brows tip and he props himself up on one arm so he's leaning over you a bit.

“Hell it's not, you think Ima’ just let that bastard have at you? Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but that's not how this works.”

“Then how does this work?” You're not mad, just curious. If this is going where you think it's going, God willing, Frank’s gonna be the one starting it.

He's the one with the brick walls here, so you're gonna let him be the first to break them down.

His eyes drop to your lips and roll over the curve of your jaw. It's sharp and soft at the same time, just like the rest of you. You shift, catch his eyes, and his sight slips off to the wall.

“I, uh.” he rolls onto his back and clasp his hands on his stomach. You're making him nervous and he's the one doing all the work. Jeesus, one of you do something. This is embarrassing.

“I don't wanna die.” What? You-pfsshhh. Yeah, okay, start there.

Frank has to blink that in, but he's still too chicken shit right now to look at you. So he asks. “Why not?”

For the love of God.

“Why not?” You repeat, frowning at the ceiling. Frank squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, backtrack.

“No, not-” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gives himself a second to get it. He doesn't, so he just nods and says. “Yeah, okay why not? Why don't you?”

You sit up and turn to look at him. He's circulating between frowning at you, and the ceiling, and the door, so when his eyes hit you on their third rotation you say. “I don't wanna die, because I'm not ready yet.” Simple.

“Says the girl who went all Annie Oakley on a mob boss tonight.”

“It was his henchmen-”

“-henchmen?”

“-and that's not the point.” You ignore him. “The point is I'm scared. I thought I could do it tonight, but I didn't and now look at me.”

He does. In the weak light from his bedside lamp he can see all of you. The bruise forming (and healing) under your eye, and on the bridge of your nose. The scratch along your neck that dips just below the collar of your-his shirt. It's a lot. You're a lot.

He shifts and pushes himself up a bit before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Then your head is pressed against his chest, with your hand resting on his abdomen. Fingers curled in. You can hear his heart beating, thu-thump. Thu-thump.

His arm wraps around you and you can feel his fingers brush against the middle of your back, right at the dip. A train's horn blares in the distance and suddenly you feel really mortal.

This is it, Kid.

You've finally hit fuck it, because now you're lifting up and kissing Frank Castle. You half expect him to push you off, but nope, his hand pushes straight to your hips, your shirt hitching up around his forearm.

There's no awkward is this okay kisses, nope, you're both just diving for it. You push your hand up to his shoulder and-oh okay, yeah you do that- slide your leg over him, so you're halfway straddling him at least.

You push both of your hands to his neck, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and lean in. It's an awkward approach, something he wasn't exactly ready for this time because your teeth collide, and you're about to pull back and apologize when he reaches down and grips your ass.

Oh-Kay. He tugs you back up toward him and this time you're both ready. Especially you, because your tongue dips into Frank's mouth and he's just here for it.

After a while of just that, you lift up and press your hands against his chest. His other hand scoots up to your hip, and he starts rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Y/n-”

“Hold on.” You scoot so you're really on top of him and sit back a bit, feeling him rub against your clit. He lets out a sharp exhale of a groan and you lift up, before sitting back again and grinding against him. Frank tugs off his shirt and you follow suit, pulling yours up and over your head before tossing it off to the side, and Frank is on you.

You’re not wearing a bra, so he just dips his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth. He reaches up to gather your other breast in his hand, and you bring your hands up to his shoulders just to hold onto something. You bury your face in his hair, shift, and kiss along his head.

Frank starts peppering sloppy kisses across your chest before biting down on your other nipple.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Frank.”

“Mhm,” He’s got a vice grip on your hips, and then he’s bucking up into you. Slow and steady, and meticulous, and—Jeesus. His tongue swirls and bites, and you’re tilting your head back. Eye’s closed just feeling him.

Okay, you gotta-hold on. You push against Franks shoulders and his mouth comes off of you with an almost obscene pop. He starts to ask what’s wrong when you dip your head down and catch his mouth against yours. It’s slow and nasty and good, something almost too sensual to be Frank, but it is. It’s just you and him.

He mumbles. “Com’on.” Against your lips and rolls you over so he’s pressed on top of you. You’re rubbing your hands up his arms and over his shoulders when he —oh Christ, okay—reaches up to grab each of your wrist pinning them over your head. This is more of what you expected, you’re not gonna stop him though.

He peppers kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, before sucking.

“Fra-ank.” God you’re whiney right now, and Franks sucking hickies into your neck, so who the hell cares?

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Frank is an A-1 goddamn tease. Before you can get an answer out he pushes against you. Languid downward rolls of his hips, catching against you and pushing your body up juuust a bit with each thrust. “Hm?”

Your mouths open in an ‘O’ shape, and you’re positive you're not gonna be able to make clear sentences, so you lock your ankles behind him and drag him closer to you. He groans out a breathy ah, shit and pulls his head back up to kiss you again. When he lets your arms go he’s quick to get back on you, sucking and biting his way down your body, and you’re still too dazed to really get what’s happening until he says.

“Y/n.”

He’s sitting up, leaning back a bit onto his legs, with his hands resting on your hips. You prop yourself up on your forearms. “Yes?”

His mouth tips up into a half smile and he says. “I said you gotta lift up,” His fingers tap the waistband of your sweatpants. Oh, yeah, okay. You lift up your hips and he starts tugging your pants down, fingers hooked in your panties too. You lift up your legs and then he’s got everything up and off of you.

He settles back down, onto his stomach, with his head between your legs and looks up at you. You’re still propped up onto his shoulders, and you’ve got a pretty damn good view of him. He dips his head down and starts kissing along your thighs, and again it's strangely intimate for him. Out of your peripheral you catch a car's headlights move past the window, and you think to say something when you feel Frank slide his hands to the back of your knees and fold your legs back on either side of you towards the bed.

You feel him blow cool air against you and you gotta take deep breaths. Scoot, shift, and his face is right between the junction of your thighs. Your hand is in his hair when he drags his tongue up your pussy and over your clit. Your head hits the pillow and you push your other hand into the other one next to you. Gripping.

“Frank,” You breathe for no reason other than it’s just him. “Oh, God, Frank.”

He moans into you and that’s enough to get your back arching a bit. He starts in earnest, jumping between circling your clit, and looong strokes up your vulva. You start to wonder if he’s spelling his name down there, when he pushes his tongue aaaalll the way in until his face is practically buried inside of you. His tongue is pressed flat against your labia and then he’s licking inside you. There’s a pause while you gasp out a ‘Fra-a-ank’, before he starts tongue fucking you. You’re not sure what your sound limit is here so you’re doing your best to keep it to a minimum. Rotating between a string of Oh god, Yes, fuck, and Fraa-aank-just to be safe.

And then he plants his mouth over your clit and sucks, pushing a finger inside of you. Your back is almost full rainbow, pushing your head into the pillow, and your moaning out a loud. “Ooooh, fuck, Frank!”

He hums, and, without missing a beat, his tongue starts circling your clit, and he adds a second finger. Languid and intinse. Faster, tighter, you’re really pushing the sound limit here. He’s still working you to the edge, but has enough time to say. “Come on, Y/n. Come in my mouth, baby.”

You groan. “Oh shit,” But he pulls his fingers back a bit, curve, and he’s finger fucking you against your G-spot. He’s an angel.

You’re loud. Like-you’re voice is probably gonna be strained in the morning- loud. Frank pumps into you, tongue circling tightly, and gets just a little rougher with it. “Ah, fuck, Frank. Please-God-please…” He latches his lips around your clit and sucks, and it's gotta be biblical the amount of times you’ve said God’s name tonight. He presses against your legs and tucks his fingers, moans against you. Your jaw drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing your other hand down to the back of Frank's head and pulling his face into you.

A strain of ecstasy pushes its way through you and you just can’t get out fast enough. “Frank-frank, oh GOD AAaaahhh!!” Your chest has a slow rise and fall to it, and Frank is back to being sensual. Kissing around your still sensitive clit and up your thighs. He lets go of your leg and pushes both of his hands onto your hips, you can feel your wetness on his fingers.

He pulls himself on top of you and this kiss is rougher, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He props himself up onto his forearm and reaches down to push off his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side with the rest of his clothes.

“You ready?” His voice is wrecked, something you’re really not used to hearing from Frank. You think, and push up on his shoulders before wrapping your leg around his hip and rolling so you’re on top. Franks got this dazed smile on his face, and lord he is cute. Really, Frank Castle is cute.

He grabs onto your waist and lifts you up with almost ridiculous ease, before shifting his eyes down and watching as you wrap your hand around his dick and slowly guide yourself down onto him.

You press your hands against his chest and raise up, just to grind back down, and Franks gotta focus on his breathing or else he’s gonna cum way too fast.

You go like that for a while, a slow and steady rock, but Frank’s been sporting a hard on since you laid next to him so he’s not as patient as he could be. He adjusts his grip on your waist, hikes his legs up so he’s digging his heels into the mattress, “You ready, baby?” and starts to buck up into you. And you thought you were leading the show.

You’re panting out little ah’s with each thrust, and you gotta brace your hand on the headboard for some kinda leverage. Frank pulls you down onto his chest and kisses you full, mumbling a string of “You like that? Huh? Ah, fuck.” against you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You grind down and meet each of his thrust and he’s done for. He pushes his face into your neck as he starts pistoning into you, lips mouthing at your neck. His thrust start getting sloppy, uncoordinated, and he moans out. “Com’on, Y/n.” Before reaching down and circling your clit.

And it's building and building and you rasp out. “Frank, I—”

He bites down on your shoulder and Oh, okay, yes that. You dig your nails into his shoulder and he’s forcing every ounce of himself not to scream. “Y/n!” Low and breathy. He still does. His hips stutter as he cums, and you pick up your pace, fucking him through it. His hips eventually stutter and he bucks a couple of times before sighing into your neck, spent.

You both just stay like that for a while. Breathing in each other, enjoying the come down. You can’t help but let your mind drift to thoughts of Frank outside of this. Domesticated, and lovely. He just came inside of you, so the idea of having his kids passes through briefly. You’ll deal with that tomorrow. He coaxes you off of him and onto the bed, sliding the sheets onto the both of you. Sliding his arm under your back he pulls you into his side and closes his eyes. You rest your head against his chest, hyper aware of how intimate this is. Neither of you are sure whether or not you should dwell on that or not.

He, Christ, reaches down and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying back and saying. “You’re not getting your card punched, not while I’m still here.”

Does he know what he’s doing to you? You just nod, because you’re not really sure if you believe him or not, and he sees that.

“Hey,” He says, nudging you a bit. You sit up and look at him, and he’s got this look in his eyes. Something like worry, and hope, and so much love for you it almost breaks your heart. “I’m serious, I’m not letting him or any a’ them get to you.”

You’re the closest thing this man has got to a friend, hell even a family, so yeah. You believe him. You nod and lean up to kiss him, before laying your head back onto his chest.

Thirty hours.

A/N: I'm actually obsessed with this man. Y'all please leave comments letting me know if you liked this / what you think. I wanna hear back from you! Have a great day, beautiful.

#I love writing so much what a great outlet #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #kash writes

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hunny-bean · 11 months

Text

Too Close For Comfort

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank comforts you after he is forced to kill a man in your shared motel room.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Gun Violence, Dead Body (Not Frank's. Don't Worry), Explicit Sexual Content, Little Pinch of Angst, Long Ass Flashback, Porn With 3.5k Words of Plot

A/N: This is the first fic I've ever written! I've been wanting to write for the JB fandom for a while and I finally decided to go for it. I'm planning to write for a lot more of his characters in the future, but I figured Frank was a good starting point. Hope you like it! I'm open to feedback if you've got it. XOXO.

Read on AO3

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After almost three months of living in an old stolen pickup truck and a series of shitty motels, you had learned to count your blessings. An important one, you quickly came to realize, was good water pressure. You were in the middle of your forth shower in the three days you and your new travel partner had been in this town, and you were trying your best to savor the moment. Since the closest companion of long showers is long trains of thought, you allowed your mind to wander back to how your adventure first began.

You took a step back in the cereal aisle in your local grocery store to examine the top shelf and ran directly into someone trying to pass behind you. Startled, you dropped the basket you were carrying full of frozen veggies and canned soups, and watched them roll in all directions. You whipped around so quickly you almost joined your soup on the floor, but luckily a strong hand shot out to steady you before you could.

"Whoa. Sorry 'bout that," the stranger said. And that was how you met Frank Castle. Surprisingly, your first impression of him had nothing to do with his gentle giant aura or his warm, gravelly voice. Your first impression happened before you even laid eyes on him, and that was how backing up into him was like hitting a brick wall with your car. He didn't stumble or falter. He didn't even flinch.

"No, sorry, that was my fault," you replied, your cheeks flushed from creating a loud noise in a public place. The stranger removed his hand from your arm and glanced down at the floor where your bags of peas laid, slowly thawing.

"You, uh... You want some help with those?"

"Oh, I got it, don't worry."

The man mumbled an "alright" and you watched him start to walk away, expecting him to leave the aisle, but he only took a few steps before his foot brushed a stray can, and he bent down to help anyway.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that," you said when all the groceries had been collected.

"No problem," he muttered. You weren't sure why, but there was something off-putting about him. Later you realized it was the stark contrast between his gruff outer appearance and his quiet way of speaking. He was so intimidating but he seemed so trustworthy. "You have a nice day, ma'am."

Before he could walk away, you found yourself calling out to him, too curious to let him leave without asking any questions.

"Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you. . . new in town?"

He seemed amused by your attempt to start a conversation, but decided to indulge you anyway. "I'm just passin' through. So you, uh, you really know everyone that lives here?"

Although he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, he kept subtly glancing around like he was about to cross the street or something. When he turned his head, you noticed the remnants of a week-old bruise on his jaw.

"Pretty much, yeah," you responded. "So, life on the road, huh? Sounds pretty exhilarating."

He let out a friendly chuckle. "Yeah, I guess it can be. If exhilarating is what you call lukewarm showers and buying all your food from the gas station."

You smiled back, happy the man seemed to be warming up some. He seemed less on edge, and you weren't sure why, but that made you feel accomplished in some way.

"Well, this isn't a gas station," you remarked, playfully contradicting his earlier statement.

"You're right, it's not," he said. "But I had to make an exception because-" You watched as he pulled a round object from his jacket pocket, holding it up and waving it slightly as if to show it off. "-gas stations don't carry mangoes."

You mock gasped, unable to fight back a smile. "Pocket fruit? I hope you were planning to pay for that. Or are you 'just passing through' because you're on the run from the police?"

You expected him to laugh at this, but instead you saw him staring intently over your shoulder at a man who had just entered the aisle. He seemed to identify the new arrival as some sort of threat. You saw that they were looking directly at each other, and you suddenly felt uneasy. Before you could ask what was wrong, several things began happening at once.

The man at the end of the aisle pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at the two of you. No, not at you, just at the kind stranger, who immediately pushed you behind him as the first shot rang out, followed by a second one. Thankfully, they both missed the two of you, but the second bullet grazed the basket you were still holding which was sticking out from behind the stranger's leg. Instantly, you dropped the basket and began sprinting for the nearest exit with the stranger close behind you.

You ran through a door marked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY,' which the stranger quickly barricaded with a tall shelf packed with bulk boxes of paper towel rolls. As the shooter banged at the door, the two of you found an exit at the back of the stock room, which you flung open and rushed through into the building's side alley. The stranger pulled you behind the building to where his vehicle was conveniently parked, almost as if he'd been anticipating an emergency escape. Too terrified to argue, you didn't protest when he ordered you to get in the passenger seat and jammed his keys in the ignition. He tore out of the parking lot and onto the main road, carrying you away from your home and the man who had tried to kill you both.

It took you half an hour to work up the courage to ask questions.

"Who was he?" you asked, softly. You're sure he heard you, although he seemed happy to pretend he didn't.

After a few long moments, when he realized you weren't going to stop staring at him until he answered, he begrudgingly responded.

"A bad man."

"Why did he wanna kill you?"

"I, uh, took something from him," the stranger said, studying his rear view mirror to see if you were being followed.

"Are you a bad man?" you asked, tentatively.

At first he just sighed, and for a moment you thought that's all he was going to give you for an answer, but then he spoke.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're asking."

"Then. . . can you take me home?"

"I can't turn around yet, not 'till I know we're not being followed. Then I might be able to take you back so you can pack a bag or two."

"Pack?! For what?" you exclaimed, dreading the answer. There was another awkward silence while the man planned his answer. "Why do I need to pack? Tell me!"

"That man, the one with the gun? He has a, uh, habit of targeting his enemies' loved ones."

"But we barely know each other, why the hell would he-"

"He doesn't know that."

"Besides," he continued after a while, "I don't really. . . have any loved ones. So he's kinda grasping at straws to find somebody I'd want to protect."

"So, he thinks you would care if I died, and now we're both in danger?" You stared at him in disbelief.

"Pretty much, yeah," he mumbled.

After that, the truck was silent for a long while. The only time you spoke in the next two hours was to give the stranger your address. You watched the trees and road pass by beside you, trying to figure out what you would pack when you finally made it home for possibly the last time. You were lost in thought so long that you were pulled out of your head by the truck's tires bouncing over the dip in your driveway. You didn't even know you had turned around.

"You get ten minutes. We're traveling light, so don't go crazy." You began to hop out of the truck before the stranger's voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around and saw that he was looking at you for the first time since you escaped the grocery store. "For the record," he began, contemplating what to say next, "I would care if he killed you."

You just stared back at him, not knowing how to respond to that.

"I'm gonna keep you safe, alright?" he promised, and you believed him.

You nodded, and went inside to gather your belongings. There was just something about this man that made you want to trust him. You managed to fit everything you needed into a large duffel bag and a back-pack. Looking around you, you realized something. You lived alone and all your friends lived out of state. This town had nothing to offer you except a shitty restaurant job. Most likely, the only person who would even notice you were gone was your boss. You took a deep breath before returning to the truck, putting your life in the hands of someone you just met.

You hopped back in the passenger seat, and the stranger helped you toss your bags in the backseat after checking that they were of a reasonable size. "You ready?" he asked.

"Fuck, no. Lets go."

The two of you took off down the road in a different direction than before, hoping to throw the bad man off your trail. After about an hour on the road, you looked over at the stranger to find him smirking slightly, lost in thought.

"What?" you asked, happy the mood seemed to be lightening despite your situation. He glanced over at you momentarily, and instead of providing a verbal response, he just reached into his pocket and handed you a slightly dented but still perfectly ripe mango. You took it from him with a smile.

"What's your name?" you asked.

He looked at you for a long moment, before seeming to make a decision. "Frank. What yours?"

You were brought back to the present by a torrent of freezing cold water, telling you you had been in there too long. You were thankful that Frank seemed to prefer morning showers. As you stepped out and dried off, you thought about the man chasing you. Eventually, when Frank opened up to you, he revealed that his name was Jordan Carlisle, and that his father was involved in the murder of Frank's family. You also discovered that the thing Frank had taken from him was his father's life. It had been so long since that day at the grocery store, and you wondered if you'd ever see him again. Maybe by this point, he'd given up on his revenge, and decided to leave Frank in peace. But Frank said Carlisle wasn't the type of man to just give up, and that if you ever wanted to stop running, someone would have to die.

During your few months together, you also learned that Frank wasn't the type to run away or avoid confrontation. The only reason he hadn't met Carlisle half way and taken him down was to keep you safe. That and the fact that he had been forced to leave behind some supplies shortly before you met and was left with nothing but a handgun, two bullets, and a pocket knife. (All things you could use to kill a man, but probably not a trained assassin).

You were both anticipating the end of the chase, however, because Frank had recently acquired various new firearms and a respectable pile of ammunition, and he was getting a little tired of running. Also, there's only so much distance you can put between you and your attacker before he realizes he's moving in the wrong direction. You had just pulled your favorite cotton nightgown over your head when-

*BANG*

You heard the unmistakable sound of the motel door being forced open. You heard a gunshot and something hit the floor. The sounds of a physical struggle just behind the bathroom door simultaneously relieved you and caused your heart to slam against your rib cage. At least you knew Frank was still alive. Unfortunately, so was the person who broke in. You couldn't see him, but you were pretty sure you knew who it was.

Two more gunshots shocked you into motion. You slid under the bathroom sink and tried desperately to remember what Frank told you to do on your first night together in case of a break in. He told you to get outside and find a hiding spot or barricade yourself in a closet or bathroom and wait for him to come get you. His voice in your head was commanding you, "Do. Not. Move." You tried to do as you were told but the urge to make sure Frank was alright was growing stronger. The muffled grunts and thuds were scaring you. You couldn't tell who had the upper hand and you didn't know enough about guns to determine which shots came from which man.

A loud cry of pain from Frank was your final straw. There wasn't a single thought in your head, let alone a plan, but you couldn't keep hiding while someone you cared about was potentially getting himself killed. You ran to the bathroom door, unlocked it, and threw it open with as much force as you could manage. The door slammed into the wall beside it with a loud crash. A distraction.

Just a few feet in front of you, Jordan Carlisle was caught off guard by the sound and he twirled around to find the source. Almost instantly, his gun was trained on you. Suddenly, you felt consumed by fear unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You heard the gunshot and flinched violently backward, as if you could somehow escape the bullet, stumbling back onto the bathroom floor. You screamed and squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the impact, but it never came. You hesitantly opened your eyes just in time to watch Carlisle collapse onto the dirty motel carpet, eyes open and unseeing. He was dead. The chase was over.

Almost immediately you burst into tears, unable to get the image of his lifeless body out of your head. You knew you should be relieved, but there was something about almost dying that made you prone to emotional outbursts. You gazed up at Frank across the room, who still had his gun pointed at the spot where Carlisle had been standing moments before. He slowly lowered it and looked over at you where you were sitting on the floor, sobbing. He seemed angry, like every cell in his body was infused with a furious energy, and he had just shot the thing he was taking it out on.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Guess now it was your turn. "I TOLD YOU IF SOMEONE BREAKS IN, YOU FIND A PLACE TO HIDE AND YOU STAY THERE."

"I was j-just wo-horried about you," you hiccuped.

"I HAD IT COVERED."

"I'm sorr-"

"YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED. THEN ALL OF THIS RUNNING BULLSHIT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING."

You turned your head away from the shouting and found yourself looking directly at Carlisle again. This time, you were unable to turn away. It was like you were completely frozen, tension locking all your muscles in place, rendering you incapable of even the slightest movement. Your tears began falling harder but you were barely making a sound. Your lungs were tight and burning. You couldn't even draw in a full breath. Frank's reprimanding faded into background noise. You found yourself wishing desperately that you were anywhere but in that room.

"Oh, fuck," Frank muttered when he saw you damn near hyperventilating. He calmed down considerably when he realized yelling at you was only making things worse. "Shit, I didn't want you to see this."

He made his way over to your side of the room and knelt down to be at eye level with you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hey, look at me," he asked gently. You didn't move your head. Softly, Frank cupped your cheek, the one farther away from him, and used it to turn you in his direction.

"You're gonna be okay," he promised. "Can you stand, sweetheart?"

Seeing Frank alive and calm helped you come back to yourself. Slowly, you nodded. Frank stood and held out his hand to you, which you used to pull yourself up with a little effort. You managed to get upright, but your legs were shaking so hard you weren't sure if you'd be able to walk. It was pathetic, and you were quite sure Frank would agree, but he didn't say anything about it. He just took one look at you and scooped you up into his arms. You were embarrassed by your incompetence, but you had finally stopped crying, and that was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Frank carried you over to your bed on the far side of the room and laid you down carefully. On your way over, you passed his bed which was closer to the bathroom, and saw two bullet holes in the pillow Frank had been laying on when you left to take a shower. That was when the relief hit you. You felt no more grief or fear or regret, only solaced by the fact that you were both alive and safe at last.

"Stay here, alright? Don't move," Frank murmured. He turned to walk over to the body again but you grabbed onto his arm before he could leave. He looked back at you questioningly.

"I heard you get hurt," you mentioned shyly. "What happened?"

Frank's eyes revealed that he was happy you were talking again. He seemed touched that your first concern when the shock wore off was for him.

"Ran into the nightstand," he admitted, rubbing his side. "It's just bruised, nothing to worry about."

You had a feeling he wasn't telling you the full story, but you decided to accept his answer. As far as you could tell, he wasn't bleeding anywhere and he didn't seem to be in much pain. Satisfied, you let go of his arm and turned to face the wall. You had a feeling you wouldn't want to see what was about to happen.

You laid there for a while, listening to Frank working behind you. You heard something being dragged across the floor, several grunts of effort and a sickening thud. You heard the faucet running in the sink and the sound of the bathroom door closing. There were footsteps moving around the room. . . the sound of someone changing clothes. You smelled the air freshener left in the bathroom cabinet masking the scent of blood.

Finally, after God knows how long, you felt the bed dip slightly as Frank sat down on the edge. You sat up and moved next to him, resting your head on his shoulder after a moment of hesitation. He put his arm around your shoulder and held you closer to him. The two of you weren't usually this affectionate, but you had certainly grown closer during your time together, and you figured the situation called for it.

"Do you think the police are on their way down here?" you asked.

Frank shrugged. "Probably not if they haven't shown up by now." Frank tried and failed to fight back a small smile. "Either that guy behind the front desk is a really heavy sleeper, or he did something to piss off the jackass in our bathtub. The only other people in this dump checked out yesterday," he said. You couldn't help but smile at that along with him. You were just so happy to be alive.

The more you let that thought run through your head, the more you wanted to be close to him. You needed more than an arm around your shoulder after you almost got shot in the head. You wanted to be held. 'Oh, sue me,' you thought. 'Who wouldn't?'

But you tried to let it be enough. You weren't sure how Frank would react to more than what you were already doing and you were too nervous to find out. You felt Frank shift next to you and realized that overthinking had caused you to become tense. The silence between you grew slowly thicker and you were worried he was about to pull away from you. In that moment, Frank standing up seemed like the absolute worst thing in the world that could happen to anyone, and you weren't about to let it.

'Fuck it', you thought, and with one quick movement, you were straddling his lap with your arms thrown over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He was caught off guard for a brief moment, but a second later his arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you just as tightly. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in and savoring the feeling of his pulse against your cheek.

"We're okay, Frankie," you breathed. "It's over."

"I told you I was gonna keep you safe, sweetheart. I don't make promises I can't keep."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, content to just hold each other until the sun shone through the curtains. Well, you thought you were content, but it wasn't long before the closeness started to affect you. He was just so warm and solid, and suddenly you felt like he was wearing too many clothes. You wanted to feel him. Feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin on yours.

Your stomach was tight with desperation and you felt tears forming behind your eyes. You needed to be closer. Your thighs tightened around Frank's hips and he felt your breathing get heavier against his neck. You shifted your position slightly to ease some of the wanting in your veins but you froze when you heard Frank's breath hitch.

As you settled your weight on his lap again, your new position provided a new sensation. There was something warm pressing against your inner thigh. Even through Frank's impenetrable denim jeans, you could feel it heating up.

Frank was just as aroused by your position as you were. He wanted you, too, but you knew he would never admit it because he cared about you too much to do anything that could potentially hurt you.

The worst part was, you could feel it getting bigger and pulsing softly right next to where you wanted it the most, and he knew you could feel it. He knew, and he knew you wanted it, but he still wasn't saying anything about it because he was too damn stubborn. He probably thought you weren't in your right mind and would regret it in the morning but that was just such bullshit. You could never regret him, and you were going to make sure he knew that.

There was still some part of you that was afraid to make a move, and that part of you really wanted Frank to break first. So, you decided to make him unable to ignore it any longer. Pretending to adjust your position again, you settled down directly on top of his bulge, making sure it was exactly where you wanted it. The feeling of his cock hardening against you sent another wave of desperation through your body, causing you to tighten your limbs around him again. Still feigning innocence, you rolled your hips once for good measure, grinding down on him to see his reaction.

You didn't see it so much as feel it, when his arms tensed up around you and he turned his head away from you in frustration. You could feel your blood pumping hard, and you were sure your face was flushed. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat the same way you could feel his pressed up against your clit. You felt his cock twitch again, even through three layers of fabric, and you could barely take it any more. You rolled your hips again, purely on instinct, and accidentally let out a soft moan.

Frank exhaled sharply and slid his arm from around your waist to pull your head away from his neck.

"What are you doin', sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you sympathetically when he saw your wrecked face. Suddenly, it was all too much for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop a rogue tear from sliding down your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, and that was all you had to say.

He put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you toward him before lightly brushing his lips against yours. You pushed forward, wanting more, but Frank pulled away before you could really kiss him. He just sat there for a moment, searching your eyes for any signs of reluctance or any lack of clarity whatsoever. In the end, he found nothing but pure desire and maybe, just maybe, love.

This time, when he leaned in, you met him half way. This time, it was more than just a brush of lips. Frank kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. Gentle, yes, but also tortuously deep. You felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and gently coax your mouth open to kiss you harder, and it was warm and wet and perfect. As your need got worse, you began to grind down on him again, sighing into his mouth from the friction.

The hand he had on your neck moved up to tangle in your hair, tugging gently, while the other one shifted to settle on your lower back as he encouraged harder, slower movements of your hips. As he forced you down against him, the feeling of the rough denim on your clit through your thin panties caused you to whine quietly. Every slight movement sent sparks shooting up your spine.

You shifted your body backwards and reached down between you to tug at his zipper, but it didn't want to come down. Frank let you struggle with it for a moment, but just as you started getting frustrated, he took over for you.

In one swift movement, you were on your back underneath him, your legs still hooked around him. He sat up for a moment to pull off his shirt (revealing his fucking perfect abs that seemed completely unfair and you were about to LOSE YOUR MIND BECAUSE HOLY SHIT) and then he was back on top of you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away to look you in the eyes.

"You sure you want this, sweetheart?"

"Don't you fucking dare leave me like this, Castle."

Frank snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Yes, ma'am."

With one hand, he reached down to unzip and tug down his pants and underwear, freeing his flushed cock from it's uncomfortable confines. It was bigger than you expected it to be, which is saying something because you already knew he was big from rubbing against it. He was so hard it looked painful, and he gave himself a few tugs to take the edge off. Just watching it drip onto the bed had you feeling dizzy. You were unbearably wet and all you wanted was to feel it inside of you.

Luckily, Frank seemed to tell as much, because he slid his hand up your thigh, kissing your neck gently and pushing the hem of your nightgown up to your stomach. He hooked the fingers of one hand in the waistband of your underwear but he paused there, waiting for some sort of go-ahead. You nodded at him, and he sat back again to tug your panties down your legs and pull them off.

This time, instead of immediately climbing back on top of you, Frank took a moment to admire you from an upright position. He gazed hungrily at your exposed cunt before swiping a finger through your folds and brushing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You jolted at the feeling, whimpering when he did it again just to watch you shudder.

"Frankie, please," you whined.

Frank decided to have mercy on you, and he came up to kiss you as he lined the tip of his cock up with your aching hole. He pushed slowly until the thick head was all the way in, surrounded by your soft, fluttering walls. It was a stretch, and it wasn't even half-way in. You appreciated Frank giving you a moment to adjust, but you didn't want one. You wanted to feel all of him, even if it hurt.

Hooking your legs tighter around him, you tried to push him into you. It didn't work, obviously. You didn't think you could move Frank if you barreled into him full-force, but he got the message.

In one smooth thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, grunting loudly and whispering an "Oh, fuck" into your neck. Your back arched up off the bed and you moaned loudly as his cock hit sweet spots inside you that you didn't even know existed.

Having Frank hovering over you, connected to you in so many ways, was easily the best thing you'd ever experienced. You were both breathing heavily and shaking as you waited for the initial pleasure shock to wear off.

Once you adjusted, you shifted slightly under him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. Whatever stimulation you managed to get from that was nothing compared to when he actually started moving. Each thrust was slow and deep, sending waves of bliss coursing through you. You couldn't stop the gasps and whimpers that kept escaping, nor did you want to.

Franks arms were on either side of your head, closing you in so all you could see and feel was him. You had never felt so safe in your entire life. Every movement was so complete and perfect. Nothing was rushed or forceful, but it was still all pure pleasure. You were sure you had never been this wet before.

Feeling Frank's back muscles shift under your fingertips as he thrust into you was mesmerizing, and hearing him moan softly and curse against your pulse point was sending shivers through your body. Every time Frank pushed his cock back inside you, you felt yourself ascending further, rapidly approaching your peak. Every time he pulled out slowly so you could feel it dragging against every part of your sensitive walls, you wanted to sob from feeling so good.

It wasn't long before you were crying out from your release, tightening your grip on every part of Frank and leaving long scratches down his back. When your climax finally hit, you swore you were having an out-of-body experience.

"Attagirl, that's it," Frank whispered as he felt you spasm around him. "Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Where-" he began. Reluctantly, you rubbed your hand on your stomach. You hadn't had access to birth control in almost six weeks and shitty motels don't provide condoms. Even the ones with good water pressure.

You rubbed the back of Frank's head gently as his thrusts grew more erratic, grabbing onto and playing with his hair. Suddenly, he pulled out of you and jerked his cock barely three times before he was finishing on your stomach with a quiet groan, painting it with his cum.

Breathing heavily, the two of you collapsed next to each other, coming down from your highs and processing what just happened. Idly, you began playing with the mess on your stomach as you thought about what was next for the two of you. There was no way in hell you were letting Frank drop you off at your house and just take off after that. You know you said "It's over," but it couldn't really be over, right?

"Stay with me," you whispered.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby."

"I'm not talking about tonight. When you take me back home, stay with me."

Frank pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at you in disbelief. "Sweetheart, I don't think I can-"

"Then I'll stay with you. My house is a family heirloom, I've only gotta pay for water and electricity. It'll still be waiting for me whenever I need it."

"I can't let you do that. You have no idea how much I want to, but I'd get you killed."

"Then stop moving for a while. No one would find you in that town. Just stay with me. Please. If you hate it, you can leave."

Frank sighed, glancing around the room before settling his gaze back on you. He brought his hand to your face, brushing his fingertips down your cheek like you were a precious artifact. You both knew he wasn't ready to let you go.

"Okay."

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#jon bernthal #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #frank castle fanfiction

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cyberpxnk · 1 year

Text

jealous | song mingi (1/2)

♡ part two

♡ pairing: mingi x fem! reader (afab) ♡ chapters: 1 out of 2 ♡ word count: 3.9k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: pwp, smut, established relationship

♡ synopsis: choi san finds great fun in trying to seduce mingi's girl on the daily. on one particular night, you're left to deal with the consequences of san's actions after their concert. waiting alone in the dressing room, you fear that you're in for a wild ride.

♡ warnings/tags: idol! mingi, rengoku hair! mingi, brief mentions of ateez, smut, shameless tbh, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, sweaty mingi, san is a little shit but he means well, a lil bit of man handling, size kink, mingi GOT THE SCHLONG, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, name calling, spanking, bruising, biting, hair pulling, slight dom/sub undertones, slight voyeurism

♡ author’s note:

kinda proof read but not rly tbh

howdy, folks! this is my first time posting in the ateez writing community, so i hope this is to everyone’s liking. i haven’t written anything in a few years but the creative juices have been flowin lately !!

this is also cross posted on my ao3, if you would like to support me there as well. this was originally a one part fic, but i’m currently in the midst of finishing up the second and final chapter. thank you and happy reading! comments r greatly appreciated :plead: :3

Swarmed by hundreds, your body is rocking amongst many others as the sounds of singing and shouting fills the air. The music is loud and pulsing through your ears, yet you feel at home within the crowd of fans. You don’t think you will ever get tired of seeing the boys perform live, despite spending nearly every waking moment around them. Similarly, Mingi is with you almost everyday yet you can never stop yourself from marveling at the sight of his lithe figure. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time ever with each new day.

With your hungry eyes following the fluid movements of his hips, he easily sways to the current song’s beat as he begins to drift further from your peripherals, heading toward the opposite side of the stage. Soon after his disappearance another figure soon comes into your view, their laced boots firmly planted on the stage in front of you. Even as those around you stir with excitement, your gaze barely strays from Mingi.

Only until hearing the screams erupt louder around you do you reluctantly tear your eyes away from his retreating back. Always being good at eliciting reactions from the fans, San’s sensual movements don’t go unnoticed by you or those surrounding him. The performer loved to get a rise out of making his fellow member jealous, although you were immune to his charms after many years of his ceaseless teasing.

To you, his flirting is almost always harmless and mostly just a hoax to get under Mingi’s skin. You can’t help but to roll your eyes at his obvious antics in trying to rouse you, but he instead begins to attract the aforementioned rapper back over to your corner. The male before you gyrates once more, hoping to further divert your attention from Mingi. It doesn't seem to take long for the other man to catch on as he practically stomps his way over to San.

Even if San's action never affected you, it always left a sour taste in Mingi's mouth. His jealousy was clear as day given how he was reacting now. Unseen by the public eye, his bout of anger was unnoticed by the fans — but not to you and San. In fact, the crowd is more than delighted by his quick return. His appearance beside his band mate prompts another round of enthusiastic yelling. Those around you wave and jitter excitedly and their mass of hands reach for the two idols, their phones held high.

Mingi is hovering close to the edge of the stage, mic in hand as he dances — his movements are aggressive, his irritations evident through the flow of his rhythmic dances. He bounces on his feet, rocking back and forth while following the groove of the music. It’s then that he tips his cap up slightly, immediately meeting your eyes with his own smoldering gaze.

Look only at me. The expression on his face says enough.

You can see a sliver of his tongue peeking out beneath his teeth before a shit eating grin is plastered across his features. He and his tongue do nothing but taunt you, slipping to and from his ample lips. You can’t help the flash of vivid imagery that briefly fills your mind. Eyes fluttering just barely, you find yourself imagining the wet appendage slipping into your hot cunt — his plump lips kissing at your wet folds as he eats you out. Fuck. The heat that rises through your body is immediate and you find yourself involuntarily shouting out for the man, joining the crowd as you all bristle animatedly from his interactions. He only smirks to you, as if knowing fully well what nasty thoughts were running rampant through that pretty little head of yours.

Mingi looks sinfully delicious in the fitted monochrome attire he adorns. Even he seems to know it, easily relishing within the attention he garners. You will definitely have to thank the stylists later. Even with little skin to show, limbs covered, the straps that hook around his lean torso only further excite you and feed into your fantasies. There's nothing more you want to do than to grab at the fabric of his shirt and yank him off the stage to make out. In front of the audience, you knew if he ever had the chance he would love to absolutely fuck you mindless on the stage. You also knew his sole purpose for frequenting your side of the stage so often was to get you hot and bothered.

You hated him for teasing you; loathed him for leaving you wanting and physically aching for his touch. The deliberate and slow thrusts of his hips are meant specially for you, but his cocky antics played it all off so easily. The fans would never suspect that he danced with such passion only to wind you up. Thankfully, you were not the only one amongst the fans feeling the heat from him. However, you did have the full satisfaction of knowing that at the end of the day you would be the one he was bending over.

Upon entering the dressing room, you could already see his sweat covered figure panting; exhausted from the concert yet seemingly more than ready to jump you. His breaths are labored with a primal desire and you can feel his heated gaze heavy on you. Yourself only adorned in a strappy crop top and tight little skirt left much of your skin exposed to his roaming eyes and little to his imagination. During the entirety of the set you two had exchanged many looks of yearning. The tension gave way and it was no wonder that he was ready to fuck you here and now. It isn’t long before his towering figure is looming over you, grabbing you abruptly as he practically tosses you against the nearest wall.

"Fuck!" A sputter of profanities. With the air being knocked out of your chest, you have no time to try to recover from his actions — literally breathless against his muscular frame. You can barely react as you're thrown up against the door with your back hitting the steel surface forcefully. Only the lean of his body and his taut muscles pin you up and you're nearly slipping down the door until you're scrambling to hook your legs around his waist. His broad hands find their grip on you, one squeezing a thigh to further hoist you up before the other grasps your hair tightly.

The impact has you feeling dizzy, yet you know you should be used to Mingi's roughness by now. There is a hard tug of your locks and you find yourself craning your neck to him obediently as he directs you by your hair with ease. The delicious expanse of skin is exposed to his eager mouth and he’s leaving hot kisses along your nape. Each brush of his lips burns into your skin, a fire further igniting beneath your belly. A whine bubbles from your throat once his teeth begin to graze along your throat, nipping gingerly.

Mingi has always been needier than you; always having to touch you, always wanting to taste you, and always needing to mark you. Despite knowing this, when he bites down between the junction of your neck and shoulder particularly hard, you can't stop yourself from crying out pathetically. His tongue allows you temporary solace, lapping against the tender wound before he begins to suck at the same spot. The hickeys he enjoyed leaving on the canvas of your skin were always welcomed, only fueling the desire that has been rapidly building over the night. The skin seems to bruise tenderly beneath his touches. Each mark is deliberate. He wants everyone to know that you were accounted for, especially San.

"You're mine." The baritone of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core and you're nearly keening at his words.

"Yours," you breathily say back to him as your hands grasp his shoulders.

"That's right. You belong to me. You're mine and only mine." His lips find yours briefly before he leans up to bite your ear, his husky voice raspy and hot against you. The trickle of words that leave his mouth don't stop even as his strong hands begin to roam your body once more. One arm holds you steady against the door as the other dips between the apex of your thighs. You gasp out as his long fingers inch closer to your core, stroking along the clinging fabric of your already soaked underwear.

"Look at you. Already dripping for me. You've been wanting me to touch you all night, haven't you? My needy girl."

Another startled sound comes from you as he easily tears the flimsy cloth from your body, hastily shoving your underwear into his back pocket. You can barely utter a word, instead settling for a choked noise of surprise as two of his fingers suddenly plunge past your slick folds. The stretch is immediate and he wastes no time pumping his digits within you as his thumb circles over your clit. With your mind reeling, you can barely catch up to his actions. His fingers feel so damn good scissoring within you that any coherent thoughts you possessed swiftly diminished.

The breathy moan that falls from your lips is delectable and much louder than anticipated. You’re both well aware that anyone passing by could probably hear you two, but that only seems to encourage the man to continue his efforts. If he was going to fuck you senseless, he surely had hoped San could hear him through the walls.

"Mmm.. You like that, babe? Do my fingers feel good?" Before you can answer, his mouth slots against yours with fervor. You two are exchanging sloppy kisses, teeth knocking into each other as your bruised lips move in unison — hot and heavy with your tongues intertwining. The desperation to taste you is too much. It's evident among his greedy touches.

You're pathetically grinding against his palm, his fingers furled to press deep at the delicate tissue of your g spot. With his soaked fingers expertly delving back and forth inside you, he easily reaches spots that have you dizzy with pleasure. You're soft and pliant to his ministrations, juices audibly gushing down his wrist with every pump. The sound is embarrassing to your ears, but your writhing body spurs Mingi on as he's no sooner curling his drenched fingers harder against your arousal.

He detaches from your lips, his own lingering down your shoulder blade. His nose is grazing along your skin as you're painfully arched between him and the door. Each thrust is driving you further away from sanity, your mind hazy with lust. With your mouth agape, you cannot stop the string of garbled noises that fall from your lips. Mingi always knows how to make you fall apart at his hands. The size and thickness of his fingers were nearly enough to have your orgasm peaking, but it was never that simple with the man.

The entirety that fills you is fleeting and you're soon whining out from his withdrawal. The actions have you locking eyes with him, his pupils blown wide with lust. Breathing heavily from his swollen lips, Mingi looks frenzied the way he bores into you. You can feel him undressing you so readily with his stifling stare. He looks crazed, his fiery locks damp and wild. The sheen of sweat on his skin is smooth and his musk is heavy, intoxicating your senses.

“M-Mingi.. Please,” you mewl at him pathetically, clenching around nothing but your own heat.

“What do you want, needy girl?” Your skin feels hot from his question. You are shy to utter a response and instead squirm beneath him, hips meeting from your movement.

“You want my fingers?” He grasps your jaw with one hand, grip tightening as his thumb grazes along your mouth. You're eager to wrap your lips around his finger, tongue brushing against his digit.

“Or maybe you want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?” A strangled noise forms at the back of your throat upon hearing his words.

“You can barely keep quiet around my fingers. Everyone is going to hear you scream if I do that.” He says such things as if the results wouldn't be the same regardless of how you came unraveled. You would take him all the same.

With the absence of his hands between your bodies, you're suddenly free to grind against his groin. You're desperate and needy for him to be closer, chasing a temporary relief from being teased toward your orgasm. The action is welcomed as you finally feel the shape of his straining erection pressed to your dripping slit. The material of his pants does nothing to hide his size, fabric growing increasingly wet from your movements.

Just as you're enjoying yourself rocking against him, you’re unceremoniously dropped by him and you're staggering to try and find your balance as your feet shakily hit the ground, knees nearly buckling.

“Mingi, what the fuck?” Hands meeting his shoulders, you're holding on as you try to keep steady.

He ignores your pestering and busies himself with removing his trousers. The sound of metal clinking is heard as his belt drops to the floor. Haphazardly he is tugging down his zipper, pants and underwear pooling at his ankles. In all his glory, he’s left standing before you as you openly ogle his well endowed size. Everything about him is so big and it turns you on immensely.

The sinful sight has your mouth going dry. It’s hard not to stare at how his swollen tip smears a trail of precum against the toned muscles aligning his stomach. You would drop to your knees then and there just for a taste, but knowing Mingi, he wouldn't allow anything of the sort whilst in charge.

“Can’t wait to take my big cock, huh?” Mingi seems extra mouthy today. You roll your eyes at his words, though they do nothing to quell the fire in your loins. It’s not long before you're closing the gap between your bodies, hands tangling within his tresses. Thankfully, he gets the message and shuts up as your mouths reconnect in a heated exchange of saliva. Tongues are met feverishly, enjoying each other's taste as you card through his hair.

Between gasps and whines, there is a playful tug on the bottom of your lip when Mingi begins to withdraw from the kiss. His hands linger along your neck, trailing to cup your cheek as his narrowed stare grows more intense with each passing second. You swallow thickly.

“Turn around and show me that ass, pretty girl,” he instructs, the low grovel of his voice shooting a tremor straight to your core. The new position you take feels vulnerable and it's evident as your thighs seem to tremble with anticipation once you've swiveled to face the door. Despite your face growing hot with embarrassment, you can't help yourself from turning slightly to try and meet his gaze with curiosity.

His eyes are zeroed in at the exposed skin beneath your skirt. From this angle he can see just how wet you truly are, your folds slick and coated with your own arousal. Large hands are soon gripping at your ass, squeezing appreciatively as he spreads them apart with a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you’re so wet… Are you this needy just for me, baby? You want me to make you cum that bad?”

You whine.

With a rough shove you stumble forward, flush to the wall with your chest against the door as the solid metal meets your torso. Mingi maneuvers you to arch forward, his feet planted between yours while he's holding you by your rear. You're whimpering against the door, expectant and ready once you feel the intimidating length of his cock finding its way between your drooling slit. He pauses for a moment, enjoying your squirming against him.

The room almost feels too quiet, tension thick with your combined breaths as you listen to the slick movements of his erection teasing along your aching cunt. You jerk yourself back against him, forcing his tip to slide past your clit. This earns a pleased moan from you, but you're met with his disapproving tsk as he slaps your ass a single time in warning. The pain is resounding, stinging so good that you cry out for him.

“Look at you. So impatient. You can't wait until I fuck you full, huh?” The head of his dick inches past your walls. His movements still, listening to you as you try not to sob out in frustration.

“You’re going to take all of me in your tight little cunt, and I want you to scream my name so loud that San will never think to cross me again. Do you understand?” Mingi's voice rumbles deep and firm against the shell of your ear, the implications behind his words are dangerous and clear yet another wave of hot arousal courses through your body. The fresh trickle of liquid that begins to trail from your wetness down your thigh is enough to show the man just how desperate and obedient you will be for his cock.

“I said do you understand me?” He repeats himself once, voice raising as he grasps a fistful of your hair. You respond with a wince, eyes springing with tears at the sudden sting on your scalp.

“Do you?!” Another slap to your already reddening cheeks.

“Yes! I understand! P-Please, please! Mingi! I need you inside me!” You sob out to him, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"Good girl." A harsh snap of his hips forward and he's plunging himself deep within your cunt. You feel yourself stretch around the entirety of his size, eyes rolling back in pleasure as your walls wrap around his thickness. Your tears fall freely at the relief that floods your senses, reveling in how deeply he reaches within you.

There is a mix between a wail and moan that falls from your mouth once he begins to rut himself against your backside. The pace he sets is brutal, pistoning hard into you as he shifts back and forth inside your heat.

The sound of skin slapping is loud, messy and wet, squelching with his every thrust. Gods, he felt so big inside you. Each movement is met by his labored panting, a guttural noise bubbling from the back of his throat as he angles himself to fuck into you mercilessly. He wants you to cum fast and he knows you'll be unable to last with how you're barely keeping yourself standing against the door. An arm encircles your waist, ensuring you're somewhat upright as his other is gripping your hip bruisingly.

The way his hips buck into yours drive you mad and each drag of his cock within your fluttering walls has you keening. The fullness of his size fills you so well that you can feel the pressure of his heavy length against your g spot.

“Mingi!” You scream when he pulls out of you completely before pounding back in particularly hard, making sure to hit your g spot over and over as he resumes his rhythm.

“Good girl… Taking me so well,” he growls lowly against your neck, planting hungry kisses along your nape. Where he has already marked, he begins another trail of bruises down your neck, each love bite decorating your skin in a way that satiates his possessive nature.

“S-So close, Mingi…” You whimper into the door, meeting his thrusts with your own sloppy movements. You can feel the tension coiling within your belly as he jerks into you. Your cunt is twitching wildly around his shaft, encouraging his cock with the squeeze of your folds around him.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna fall apart on this big dick?” Languid kisses follow up your ear, and his words are igniting you, fueling the flame that is your orgasm. You barely process the hand that has slipped from your ass and now lays between your legs, fingers rubbing wet and slick against your throbbing clit.

The digits that play around your button have you chanting Mingi’s name in an endless hymn, mindlessly moaning as his tempo grows erratic. He knows that you're almost there, he can feel the way your cunt is clenching him so tightly.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” The way his fingers pinch at your clit and how he fucks himself into you with reckless abandon causes you to orgasm fast and hard. Your eyes are fluttering shut and you see stars, reaching the crescendo that is your orgasm. Your pussy is spasming around him when you come, your hips weakly pushing back against his thrusts to ride your high.

With your writhing and convulsions gripping his cock, it doesn't take him long to reach his own orgasm as he chases for release. He is sloppy, frenzied and desperate as he hammers into you, pace only stuttering as he begins to spill rope after rope of his hot cum into you. He peaks with a loud groan, hands finding their way back to your ass to grip at the mounds of flesh before his movements slow to a lazy grind.

You feel him pull out of you once he's had his fill, and it has you whimpering softly as you try to ignore the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. He is huffing heavily when he turns you around to face him, hands cupping your cheeks. Mingi peppers kisses lovingly all over you before pressing his lips to yours sweetly.

“God, I love you, babe… Let's get you cleaned up.”

“I love you too, Min.”

The people that await you outside of the dressing room are not particularly pleased as the two of you step from the door, both red with embarrassment. Bowing your head and grasping Mingi’s hand, you both flee toward the room that ATEEZ occupies. It doesn’t take long to reunite with the rest of the group, but entering the vicinity, the room is silent and the tension is palpable. The resident captain seems to be fuming near the back, motioning for Mingi to come to him before he begins to scold the latter. You definitely don’t miss the scalding glare he shoots your way too.

Shuffling awkwardly you turn to face the others, and you can see that Yunho’s ears are red as he refuses to meet your eyes. You can't help but to smile sheepishly. The rest of the group seems to be idling around, either playing on their phones or chatting together quietly. Similarly, some of them barely glance to you while others offer a shy wave in greeting. It's clear to you that the rest of the members and some staff weren’t exempt from hearing your loud ass shenanigans. You knew that you and Mingi would get reprimanded for it later, but at least you got some killer sex out of it.

Amongst Hongjoong’s bickering and Mingi’s apologies, it is San who stands from the couch and clears his throat as he casually saunters over to you. An arm is thrown around your shoulder as he ducks his head down close to yours.

You see Mingi’s head whip over to your direction. San smirks.

“So, I take it the plan worked?”

You only grin back at him.

#ok also like im lowkey scared of posting this but seriously i hope u guys like it #i just wanna make atiny writer/reader friends :sob: which is the whole reason why i revamped my tumblr #hehe :3 #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez scenarios #mingi scenarios #mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #ateez x reader #cyberpxnkwrites

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writethrough · 3 months

Note

How about a comfort fic with Vessel/reader? Your choice on if Vessel comforts the reader or the reader comforts Vessel!

Just Like Rain

(Vessel x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Your anxieties overtake you, and Vessel is there to guide you through them.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, thoughts of unworthiness and self-hatred, language, unintentionally cathartic for me

Word Count: 1557

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I'm so excited for you to read my first Vessel fic!

A little housekeeping for those who have read through my Request Guidelines, and may be confused about me writing for a real person when it says I don't. That is still the case, but Vessel is a character when it comes down to it. So, I feel comfortable writing for him, especially in the way I've written him here.

Also—and I hope this goes without saying—I will not entertain theories and rumors about any of Sleep Token's identities.

Enjoy the music for what it is, as the band intended. And I truly hope you enjoy my interpretation of Vessel.

The burn felt good. The steam made you breathe heavier, but you didn’t want this to be easy. You wanted to feel every inhale—stand under the water until you were seared from within; until it felt like you were in your body and not a whisper away from being dragged into oblivion.

You choked back a sob; still so fearful someone would hear you when you were the only one home.

There was no reason for you to cry.

So many people had it so much worse.

But here you were, on the verge of panic because you didn’t feel like yourself. You didn’t even feel human.

You wished you could put a name to it, but you couldn’t.

What was wrong with you?

Why did you have to feel like this? It came out of nowhere. Like you were struck by a fucking semi.

You just wanted it to stop. You wanted to feel normal, to not have these sudden bouts of...of what? Melancholia? Sadness? Anger? No word seemed strong enough for it.

All you wanted was to rip it out.

Your tears fell harder.

The water cooled. You turned the knob further.

And then there were arms around you.

You tensed, choking back your sobs and covering your mouth as if you could hide what he had already seen.

Slowly, carefully, as if you would break, Vessel turned you to face him.

Without a word, he cupped the back of your head and brought it into the crook of his neck.

You refused to remove your hand.

All it did was make your shoulders tremble.

His fingers traced up and down your arm, more of a breeze than a touch. His other hand slid down to the back of your neck. The pressure of it spread through your body.

Your hand dropped from your mouth and tentatively found its way to his chest. And as he inhaled, you let your hands travel to his back as you stepped closer.

He held you there, head resting atop yours.

It was only when you shivered that you realized he had turned you, blocking you from the piping hot spray.

You sniffled, finally looking at him.

He cupped your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks, then pressed his forehead to yours.

Let us go to our room, my love.

His words passed into your mind. You nodded.

He stopped the water, helped you out of the shower, and dried you both.

He guided your limbs into your sleepwear and covered himself with loose black pants. He looked almost...human...like this.

You couldn’t help thinking that he was more human than most everyone out there.

---

Your day started out fine.

You woke from a wonderful dream—one Vessel had created. A peaceful afternoon beneath a willow tree, snuggled into his side, his fingers trailing along your forearm, down to your fingertips.

He had tilted your face toward his, kissing your forehead. You had closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were in bed, his lips still pressed to your skin.

You got ready for work, Vessel watching as you moved through your room to the bathroom and back. He enjoyed observing you. The personal rituals you did for different occasions, different times of day. Perhaps the one he enjoyed the most was when you asked for his opinion when your ensemble was complete.

He’d stand from his perch on the foot of your bed and step toward you as if in a trance.

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He always spoke it. He wanted you to hear the power in the words—the power you held over him.

You left, and Vessel would gather with the others. You’d ask him about his day, but admittedly, you were still confused about everything they could do—everything they were charged with doing.

Maybe that was where is started.

You didn't understand. Could never understand.

And a chasm opened.

You were so fucking stupid.

You deserved to feel like this.

Insignificant.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

Everyone was better off without you.

He’d be happier without you.

All these fucking noises.

Why was everything so goddamn loud.

Dogs barking. Cars honking. That fucking clock that wouldn’t shut the fuck up!

It all made you so angry. Why were you so angry?

You had to make it stop.

That’s how you ended up in the shower. At least there you could control the noise. You could feel it mark you. Let the heat punish you.

A hand on your back pulled you back to reality.

Let me see you, darling.

You didn’t move, wished you didn’t need to breathe.

He didn’t deserve this. He needed someone as extraordinary as him, someone who could understand. You could barely wrap your mind around how vast he was; he was everything, and you were—

“You are my heart.”

A sob escaped. You had forgotten. Too consumed in your own thoughts that you forgot to keep them from him, to stop projecting them.

He whispered your name, and all you heard was his heartbreak.

You refused to look at him, covering your mouth to keep your cries back.

“Please,” he urged. “Please believe me. You are the most precious to me. Do not think of yourself with such loathing.”

His hand rested on your side, a silent plea to face him. When you didn’t, he forced you to. He never did that—used his strength against you—but this was an exception.

“I am the one who does not deserve you. My existence is burdensome to you...but I am too selfish. I cannot lose you. I will not leave you willingly. I...I will stay by your side...until you demand otherwise.”

It pained him to imagine it. He was so bad at hiding his emotions. And yet, it was what you needed. That break in his voice parted your darkness. The thought of him ever not being here scared you.

“I don’t—” You hiccupped. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Darling,” he breathed, sympathy and relief in that one word. “Come here.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist while his settled over your shoulders.

“My place is by your side,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me here.”

Squeezing, you nuzzled your face into his neck. The edges of his mask-like features settled you into reality. He was here and so were you, and you were together.

You sniffled; throat too thick to speak.

I love you.

His mouth pressed into your crown.

You are the one I cherish most.

At the end of your exhale, relaxation enveloped you—a heaviness only he could instill.

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t need to. You just needed this day to be over.

Sleep, my beloved. And awake anew.

---

You didn’t dream that night, and you were grateful. It was the kind of emptiness you needed.

When you opened your eyes, you were facing Vessel. Your fingers were touching, bodies apart but connected, always.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell if he was awake. Even facing one another, the spaces where his eyes should be neither opened nor closed. His breathing was what gave him away. But not this morning. Today, it was the way his pinky finger wrapped around yours.

Dearest one.

It moved through your mind like a gentle breeze, and it sounded like “good morning.”

He seemed to move before you did, anticipating you shifting closer, so his arm wrapped around you and his hand caressed the back of your head.

You are rested?

You hummed. He always asked when you both knew he didn’t need to. His insecurities needed the reassurance that he had helped you.

Yes. Thank you.

You punctuated it by gliding your lips along his throat and placing a kiss above his Adam’s apple.

The purr that erupted pulled the corner of your mouth up. He was always responsive in the mornings, less guarded before the walls of your bubble faded.

What are you feeling?

Not “how,” but “what.”

Inhaling, you took stock of yourself. You recalled your pain from yesterday, but that already felt so long ago. Like your mind was trying to protect itself after what it put you through.

All you really felt was him.

Safe.

His head tilted downward so your foreheads touched.

That pleases me.

You rubbed your nose with his. Content to simply feel him.

The others and I have decided I shall remain with you today.

It had taken you a while to get used to the connection him and the rest shared. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. After all, how convenient it was to cancel plans just by thinking about it. He probably did it in the seconds before you woke up.

So, what should we do?

Anything that will make you happy.

That sincerity always made you pause and scrutinize him. How could anyone truly mean that?

Yet somehow, he did. Every time.

And if I said this?

You traced curves and swirls onto his back, reveling in the strength you felt within. Sometimes you swore his power was tangible.

“Then I shall continue to warm your bed.”

Your flush was instantaneous, and you knew he could feel it against his neck. But before you could stutter a reply, your stomach growled.

“Perhaps breakfast first?” he asked.

You nodded. “Definitely.”

Taglist: @steph-speaks because one of my only points of pride is introducing you to ST.

Comment or message me if you wanna be tagged in future Vessel fics!

#sleep token #vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #vessel fluff #vessel angst #vessel oneshot #vessel one shot #vessel x reader #vessel x you #vessel fanfic #vessel fanfiction #vessel imagine #vessel imagines #vessel x gn!reader #vessel x gender neutral reader #sleep token band

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jals-stuff · 20 days

Note

hi girlie!! i see that your requests are open... can i pls request hurt+comfort on orter with a flirty girl reader pretty please??? the lack of orter fics is crazy T_T

(guess who btw :3)

why hello there, dear. I'll guess you are m***i, and I agree, there aren't enough works on him.

Anyway, here's a poorly, quickly written one. It is supposedly proofread but it's 5am and I am very eepy!

Just a flirt!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: none!

“Took you long enough.”

You blinked a few times as he looked up from his paperwork, and mostly at the report you were holding. You had spent longer than necessary on this paper you’d received from Renatus, correcting rewriting the entire thing as it was just full of mistakes and this jerk was too lazy to give you anything that was decent.

“What, did you miss me that much?” You raised your eyebrows with a slight smile as you chuckled to yourself. Oh yeah, that was funny. Orter didn’t seem to find it amusing, as his expression didn’t really change at all. You made your way to his desk and sat on the chair facing it, handing him Renatus’ report.

He decided not to dwell on that stupid remark of yours and started reading the paper, taking notes on the side and making sure nothing is missing. Meanwhile, you were staring carefully studying his expression, and every single small nod he gave while reading.

“Renatus isn't usually this thorough with reports. Colour me surprised.” He blankly said and slid the report inside one of his drawers. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a proud grin. “Renatus gave me a piece of scrap, so I rewrote it entirely using the information he gave me.” you stated, crossing your arms as you looked at him, visibly waiting for some praise.

He stared blankly for a second and sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Well done, (Y/N). Very good work.” Though he was praising you, his expression didn't change that much and you could just feel how exhausting it was for him to give compliments.

“Mm, mm. That's right. I’m always good with my work when I know you'll review it…” You trailed off, looking at him with a satisfied smile and a small wink. He raised both eyebrows at your obvious flirting and chose not to comment on it, but you weren't done anyway.

“Anyway, I think I deserve more than just a little compliment! I rewrote the entire thing, you know?” You playfully pouted, putting on a dramatically sad, puppy eyes expression for him. Orter pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh; he knew you wouldn't back down anyway.

“That was amazing work, (Y/N). Rarely have I ever seen a report written with such incredible finesse and precision.” He said blankly again, and it was clear he didn't mean it that much, although there was a part of truth in his words that he refused to admit, even to himself.

“Thank you, thank you.” You chuckled, knowing very well that he was exaggerating, but seeing as he played along, you decided to push your luck a little. “So what, am I getting a reward for all this hard work?”

Even if his expression didn't change, you could read him like he was an open book. “Was the praise not enough?” was probably what he thought at this point. You could've stopped there and brushed it off as a joke but your ego had been flattered just enough to make you bolder.

“How ‘bout… a little kiss? Just on the cheek! Like mwwwah!” you mimicked a kiss while pointing at your cheek and were absolutely convinced that your imitation was flawless. Of course, you were partially joking, and assumed he would just sigh and dismiss your comment, but no such luck.

“I have better things to do than to entertain your delusional little fantasies.” He simply spoke and grabbed his pen again to fill out some of his paperwork. Ouch. But that was his whole personality anyway, of course he wouldn't give you a little kiss, you already knew that, but hearing him say it this way tugged just a tiny bit at your heartstrings.

“No fun.” You sighed and crossed your arms on top of his desk before nesting your chin in-between them. “I am being highly underappreciated here.” You whined dramatically, and then regained your usual smug expression. “That's okay though, you're still my favourite.”

You could tell you were slowly but surely getting on his nerves, and it was kind of amusing to see him have to close his eyes and take a deep breath before focusing on his tasks again. He was already being very patient by allowing you to laze around in his office when you had free time, but he was gradually starting to regret this decision.

You were already done with your work for today, and sat in Orter’s office simply to enjoy his company. He knew, and for some reason he tolerated your presence as long as you didn't disturb him too much.

Was any of your flirting serious? Of course it was. You genuinely liked him! You had been blessed with a sweet voice and a pretty face, and most of your colleagues at the Bureau would've dreamt of being in his place right now. He was very much aware of that, but it seemed off to him.

Even though your coworkers kept flirting around with you and quite literally trying to slide in your pants, you had denied every single one of them. From nameless staff members to the Flame Cane, none of them had your attention except Orter, and all of your flirting surely showed it… or so you thought. Things were awfully different in his mind.

Now, you were just looking at him and his paperwork, fiddling with some trinkets on his desk. Being in the same room as him was almost enough for you, but you kept feeling this physical need to flirt with him, to demonstrate how much you liked him, and you would've thought he had a clue, as you kept making it painfully obvious.

His eyes travelled to your hands as he put one of his papers down. “Stop it.” He ordered, and you immediately let go of the trinket you were toying with in a deep sigh now.

“But I’m bored.” You mumbled, and he put down his pen, his hands now joined on top of his desk. He looked at you for a bit, your almost childish behaviour was starting to irritate him slightly.

“Then leave.” He raised his head slightly as he took off his glasses to wipe them. “Nobody asked you to sit here and disturb my work with your… immature antics.” Ouch, another one, but at this point, you were used to his spiky remarks and simply shrugged it off.

“Aww, but I'll miss you if I leave, you know~?” Again with the puppy eyes, making your expression unnecessarily dramatic again even though you meant every single word you said; but saying it in a completely blank tone would embarrass you way too much. “And I know you'll miss me too, hehe.” You playfully added.

He put his glasses back on and gave you a very stern look and raised an eyebrow very slightly. “Surely, there are other victims that await your attention somewhere else. Why not pay them a visit instead of constantly disrupting my focus?”

He sure was in a foul mood today, wasn't he? But his comment felt like a sharp blade into your stomach and you just needed an explanation for it. “What is that supposed to mean?” Your flirtatious demeanour was temporarily suspended as you weren't quite sure what you'd just heard.

“Are you already done seducing your other colleagues? Must I suffer your incessant flirtations in their place now?” He asked again, and it didn't sound like he was being sarcastic at all, but at least you now knew.

“Orter… are you jealous?” You asked, and your tone was dead serious. It was inimaginable that he could ever feel jealous about something so petty— something you hadn't even done in the first place.

He took a deep breath. “Nonsense. This is wishful thinking; I am merely aggravated by your attempts to turn me into one of these loyal… dogs you have around at the Bureau.” he scoffed, and you could tell he was not pleased with your behaviour.

“...what?” was all you could utter, as you looked at him in disbelief. “You don't know how wrong you are about this, clearly.” You didn't want to be rude to him even though he really deserved it right now, but you seemed to be testing each other's patience.

“How wrong could I be? These people are head over heels for you. Surely, this doesn't happen without a push.” He firmly stated, and again, he was wrong. “Whatever have I done for you to think I’ll be one of them?”

You had always hated arguments, but having one with Orter was the worst that had happened in a while. He was fully convinced that you were but a flirt, a temptress that relished in having people crawl at her feet… but that wasn't it, and these people weren't exactly crawling either.

“How can you say such a thing?” You looked at him in heavy disappointment. “How could you think such a thing, after all of… this?” After all of the obvious flirting you gave him, the endless remarks about how you miss him when he isn't around or your constant winking.

He was just staring in religious silence, thinking you'd give up and simply admit your faults so he could go back to work without any disturbance, but he was once again very wrong, and you needed to justify yourself.

“Why would I flirt with anyone other than you at the Bureau?” you asked, standing up from your chair and placing both hands on the desk in front of him, and he simply adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Because that's who you are, it would seem.”

You sat back in defeat, looking at him, completely dumbfounded. Every word you wanted to say ended up getting swallowed in the whirlpool of emotions you were feeling, and you couldn't do anything else than stare at him. You could physically feel your heartstrings being pulled now and it was disturbingly painful.

“Is…” you swallowed your emotions down before trying again. “Is that really what you think? That I'm just the type of girl to flirt around and just… sleep well afterwards?” Your tone made it obvious that you were hurt, and it didn't go unnoticed.

But he was convinced. Convinced that your flirting was not a rare occurrence, that it extended beyond the limits of his office, that surely you had already done it before and he was probably just one of those targets you'd use to boost your self-esteem. Even though he was upset with you, his goal wasn't to hurt you, and he decided to avoid your question, not knowing what to answer anyway.

“I don't even know why you're trying to justify yourself that hard.” He finally sighed and grabbed his pen again, which was his way of telling you that this conversation was over and you had to leave; but you wouldn't let go just yet, not before you had said your piece.

“Because it's you we're talking about.” You blurted out, once again flabbergasted by how dense a man could be. “How straightforward do I have to be for you to understand? Have I not been vigorously flirting with you?” You asked loudly, almost laughing nervously.

“You sure have, but—”

“Have I not made it crystal clear that I am into you? That I want to spend time with you?” Oh, you had no will to listen to his flawed reasoning and you just couldn't take it anymore. You were trying your best not to tear up in front of him already, and any more of his baseless accusations surely would make a sufficient push to make you cry.

“I never said you didn't d—”

“Then why are you so blind to my feelings?” You interrupted again, but this time way calmer. You sat back, weakly plopping down on your chair and staring down at his desk for no apparent reason. He didn't really say anything. In fact, he was processing the information you had just given him.

You felt terribly awkward after your half confession, and that clumsy part of your personality couldn't take the silence anymore. “How can someone that dense be in charge of the Magical Power administration..?”

Were you jesting? Probably. But what else could you do anyway? Your main goal was to keep your composure and hold your tears back, at least until you were out of his line of sight. His eyes were on you, they had been the whole time, but you couldn't muster the courage to look at him anymore.

“May I speak now?” He asked, first of all wanting to make sure you wouldn't interrupt him anymore, and only now did it occur to you, how rude you had been these last few minutes. You gave a nod and he sighed deeply, joining his hands against his desk and looking at you with a bit of a softer expression.

“I never said you haven't been straightforward.” He started, and now that you were a bit calmer than before, you could feel your shame grow at his words. “I never said you didn't do all these things you talked about so… fervently. I am merely saying that I do not believe you are exclusively trying to seduce me.”

You sighed again, and he braced himself for another rant but instead of justifying yourself again, you ran a hand through your hair and took a deep breath. Looking all sad and defeated wasn't like you at all, and you needed to prove yourself to this dense, silly, overworked man.

“I don’t get it. Why does the fact that I supposedly am flirting with other people bother you?” You decided to ask, your arms crossed over your chest as you were now back to studying his expression and tone. If you were going to cry, so be it, but you wouldn't go down without a fight, especially for him.

He takes a minute to think, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What bothers me is the way you act with those people, and how you pretend to be innocent afterwards.” You gave him a confused look and he decided to develop. “The way you politely smile at them and make small talk. You're almost inviting them.” He said that while keeping his straight face and cold glare, completely serious.

Oh. Oh.

“So you are jealous.” You couldn't help but smile a little and finally look up at him, only to be met by an utterly confused Orter, ready to absolutely deny your claim.

“I am not jealous, (Y/N).”

“What if I stopped talking to all of them then, would it make things a little better?” You offered, suppressing a smile and pretending to act serious. He seemed to think for another minute again and leaned back into his chair.

“Yes, I believe it would.”

Ah, you couldn’t take it anymore and just burst out laughing; he didn’t seem to like it very much but it was impossible to resist. You just had to make sure again, and so, you slowly regained your composure and caught your breath, then exhaled deeply. “So, let me get this straight…” you started, and he listened. “What upsets you is the fact that I am supposedly flirting with other people, and if I didn’t smile at them or made small talk, you wouldn’t mind my flirting?”

You did not miss that sigh of relief. He adjusted his glasses again and crossed his legs, looking at you very seriously. “I am glad to know that you have ears.” He said blankly, his expression still so cold as his eyes landed on yours again. “Are you making fun of me now?” His voice sounded slightly irritated and you had to calm yourself down again.

“No, not at all. But you just admitted to being jealous so… I win.” You could feel all of your earlier worries dissipating. He wasn't denying it either, instead looking like he was thinking about your reasoning; you had him cornered now.

And the best part about all of this is that he has no clue what he just signed up for.

#orter mádl x reader #orter x reader #orter madl x reader #orter madl x you #orter madl #mashle x reader #mashle #mashle imagine #mashle fluff #mashle x you #mashle x y/n #madl orter #mashle orter madl #orter mádl #mashle orter

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taintandviolent · 3 months

Text

Star of the Show - Jimmy Darling x Reader

warnings: dub-con, drug usage, unprotected sex, orgy, smut (female and male receiving), reader x multiple partners (Amazon Eve and Jimmy Darling). a/n: 3k words! basically, this is uh - y'know. inspired by the orgy scene in Freakshow. this is... shamelessly also me dipping my toes into an Amazon Eve x reader fic because big tall lady make the brain go brrrrrr. that's all I can say about myself here okay? shh. also this was written after a very long bout of writer's block and exhaustion, so i'm rusty and clunky. apologies.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

Warm sun filtered in through the canvas, warming your exposed limbs. Lids peeling apart, your first visual was red and white stripes, and the second visual was your own body. You’d woken up in nothing but a satin robe that didn’t belong to you. Still muzzy from sleep and whatever else you’d done, you stumbled around to find your dress and thankfully, it had been thoughtfully draped over a nearby bench. You replaced it with the robe, and made your way outside, pushing the flaps of the tent aside.

You weren’t sure how it started, or what was said specifically to cause your lapse in morals. Normally, you’d never do something like that. Honest. In fact, you were always such a good girl that if you ran home and told your friends what you thought you’d done, none of them would believe you. Not you, they’d titter. You can’t even tell a fella that you think he’s cute!

Last night, once the crowds had cleared the field, leaving nothing but crumpled tickets and popcorn bags, you remember wandering into the main tent. They were all there, the freaks. You remembered the way they’d looked at you, all of them smiling dangerously at you as you stood in your pretty mint-green sundress. For whatever reason, you’d been persuaded to take one, maybe two, maybe three, hits of whatever the nice German lady had offered to you - and that’s where it all went wrong. Or perhaps where it all went right. You didn’t remember much else after that.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you peered out into the fairgrounds. They were empty, save for the smaller tents and caravans that encircled the main big-top tent. Dabbing at your forehead with the back of your hand, you trudged through the high grasses. An eerie feeling settled over your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat.

What had happened last night? You racked your brain. Tent full of people… German lady… that guy. The handsome guy with the … oh. Jimmy. His name was Jimmy.

As you rounded the corner, recalling the most you had since you’d stumbled out into the morning, coincidentally, he was there. Across the field, The Lobster Boy bent down to hoist a heavy-looking bag over his shoulder before straightening back up. He caught your gaze with a grin and winked. The boyish charm he presented skilfully extracted a carnal reaction from your body. Suddenly, you remembered a whole lot more.

Last night…

As someone undressed you, carefully, you stared up at the massive inside of the tent. It seemed to go on forever. You had been looking at - no, gazing dreamily at the world through a sheer, white curtain, like the ones your mother hung up during the summer time; the ones that fluttered in the hot breeze and seemed to make the air that filtered through smell sweeter. Everyone was moving slower than they should have, and you leaned your head back on the curve of the chair, inhaling a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

It felt like there were a dozen hands on you, petting you, skimming the ticklish flesh of your inner thighs and the crooks of your arms. Some of them were cold, some of them were clammy, and some of them felt like they didn’t belong to humans. Everyone was murmuring and someone called you an angel. You threw your head in the direction of the sound, hoping you smiled. Another person caressed your cheek, cupping it tenderly. You hmm’ed in adoration, trying desperately to discern figures. You’d never felt so venerated in your life; everyone was obsessed with you. The star of the show.

One figure that you could recognise, solely because of the height of them was Eve. Amazon Eve. The tallest woman you’d ever seen, and possibly the most beautiful. She, who you had immediately taken a liking to during the show, was now caressing your bare chest. The delicately explorative way that she handled your breasts, rolling your nipples in her thumb and index finger made you whimper in delight, squirming helplessly on the chair. She pressed a few delicate kisses along your jawline before pulling away to look at you, letting her hands ghost over your exposed flesh. She softly trailed her fingers along your ribs and your sides, fluttered over your hips and neared your centre before sweeping back up along your stomach. Your lids drifted shut, revelling in the sensation.

“Little pretty thing,” she said, very close to your ear. Your brows lifted high on your forehead, pathetically trying to pull your eyelids open again. Eventually, the seal broke and you looked around, focusing gradually.

She was above you with one knee on the chaise, towering like a building. A building that smelled like cherries and flowers. Behind her, blurred dots of string lights, framing her like a picture. She had a pretty face and a warm hand that stroked the side of your cheek. She leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You melted, wrapping your arms around her soft neck to bring yourself closer, and deeper into her mouth. You’d never really thought of kissing a woman, but the warm, honeyed way that she tasted had you craning your neck to follow her as she straightened up, wanting more.

Eve leaned down, kissing you again. Her large, soft hands dipped in between your legs, and as soon as she felt the slippery warmth that met her fingertips, she looked off to someone. For a fiery moment, her middle finger encircled your clit, sending shivering waves through your body. But too quickly, the moment ended, and her hands gripped your wrists, fingers overlapping as she pulled them from her neck.

“My friend Jimmy is gonna’ take care of you now. Okay, sweetheart?” As she moved off the chair, she brought your hands down to your sides where you flattened them against the textured velvet. You babbled, protesting her leaving, but she shushed you with a single finger, assuring you that she’d be right there. You didn’t want her to – a thought that tantalized you. She was so gentle, but so commanding in her motions.

At the sound of a belt buckle clanking, your head lolled sleepily to the side, lids heavy. Jimmy? Jiiiiiiimmmy…. you tried to remember who Jimmy was, but your mind was far too busy sounding out the name syllable by syllable, repeating it over and over again like a mantra to even conjure up any mental pictures. Thankfully, standing behind her was an attractive man with thick fingers. Long fingers. But something looked off.

You lifted your head off the chair and blinked heavily, giving him a woozy, half lidded look. His caramel locks were separated with sweat, a few stray strands hanging in front of his brow. You blinked again, clearing your vision. Open pants hung at his hips. Fused fingers wrapped around the base of a thick, red-tipped cock, hand pumping it slowly to keep it hard. Though, as soon as he saw you, naked and sprawled out on one of Elsa’s luxurious chaise lounges, with your legs falling open slightly to expose your cunt, he had little issue with that.

C’mere, doll face.

He closed in the distance between you two, letting his erection guide him like a compass to what it wanted most. Another man and Jimmy exchanged some words that you couldn’t understand. Frustrated by the lack of attention, you reached out for him sloppily, like a sleepy child. Your hand slapped the air until it found the warm fabric of his cotton undershirt.

“F-feels…. mmmff…”

He chuckled at your avidity, glancing down at you. “Alright, baby, alright…”

You looked dreamily up at him, wanting him to fall on top of you and shower you in kisses. He had the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. The darkest eyes. Like two cups of black coffee, warm and inviting.

Jimmy’s thumb found its way into your mouth, pulling your bottom jaw down to make room for his cock. With peaked brows, you mewled dreamily, wrapping your lips around his single digit and sucking hard. His skin was salty, the sweat of the day settling in the creases of his hands.

“Ohh, god damn - you’re so eager…. Suck on this instead, huh?”

Again, he used this thumb to manipulate your jaw, tugging on it. You opened it further, your tongue lolling out hungrily. The corners of your mouth were pulled upwards; you felt so good, so light and breezy. He was so handsome and you’d do whatever he wanted you to.

You blinked, watching as his cock neared closer. You’d never given a man a blowjob before. For a brief moment, your eyes were wide, pupils dilating in concern, but as soon as the head of Jimmy’s cock was hot against your tongue and warm, salty pearls of pre-cum oozing from the tip, glistening and catching the reflections of the string lights from above, you eased into the action. Your mouth stayed open, as Jimmy was the one guiding his dick inside, knowing full well you didn’t have the strength to do it yourself.

Your lids drifted shut. For a second, he felt bad. You were real out of it, but before he had a chance to dwell on it, a wanton haze consumed him as your pretty lips closed around the blisteringly hot tip, your precious flushed cheeks caving in. Inside, your tongue caressed the slit, lapping up the pre-cum like it was ice cream. You hummed around his cock as he began pumping it in and out. You may have been out of it, but boy were you going at his cock. Your tongue flattened against the thick vein on the underside of his cock, rubbing at it.

He groaned low in his throat, caressing the underside of your jaw, all the while resisting the urge to bring his hand to the back of your head and guide his cock deeper into your mouth. He was weak with arousal. In truth, he was almost embarrassed at how badly he wanted to lose it in your pink, waiting mouth.

“Baby, baby….” Jimmy’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his lids fluttering helplessly as you sucked. You mewled again, the vibrations sending a shockwave through his cock. He bucked his hips in and out of your mouth, focusing hard on the way that your plush, soft lips popped over the head every time he pulled back.

“Take her, Jimmy,” someone said. It was a male’s voice, low and gruff, a slight accent to it.

Though you didn’t know who the voice belonged to, Jimmy hurriedly obeyed it. Whether or not he wanted to stop, the reality was that you had him wound up too tight; he was ready to bust and needed to quickly change positions before the inevitable happened. Sucking in a deep breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth. Long, sticky strands of saliva and cum strung from your lips, dribbling onto your chin. Moving quickly, Jimmy took hold of his cock and crawled onto the chaise, on top of you, looking fixedly down at your form. You hadn’t quite recovered from the position change, and needed a little help; he let go of his cock, gently pressing his fingers into your cheek, and pulling it to face him. You blinked a few times, before smiling brightly.

“ H-hii …..” You breathed, woozy. “Hi Jimmy…” You were very proud of the fact that his name came out normal. In your current state, it felt like an arduous task. “Hi Jimmy,” you said again, delighted. You laughed girlishly, and Jimmy felt a pulsing heat in his groin. He hadn’t heard a sound as sweet as that in years.

“Hey, baby…” He smiled crookedly at you. Warm and soft like honey. “You want this?”

You knew what he was asking. Your weighted gaze dropped between your bodies. The feverish, scarlet tip of his cock was leaking beads of pre-cum onto your bare tummy, bobbing heavily up and down with each breath he took. You felt your pupils dilate again, hungrily, craving the monster in front of you. You knew what it tasted like, you now wanted to feel it ripping you in two. You gave him an excited nod. The inside of your brain felt like it was jostled around by the action, so you huffed out a steadying breath.

Excited by your consent, Jimmy wasted no time and reached down. The pads of his fingers found your slick entrance, toying with it slightly to spread the slippery, clear fluid around your cunt. He slipped one of his pincers inside, bringing a gasp from your throat. “You like that?”

You nodded again, much slower this time and reached for his bicep. Once you found it, you gripped it tightly, readying yourself for the oncoming storm. He lined his dick up and brought his eyes back to you.

“Look at me, baby.”

You did. He grinned.

Watching you, he stuffed himself inside, swallowing dryly. His eyes danced over your face, picking up all the subtle, lustful little changes; your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your brows peaked together in an expression of slight discomfort, your lips parted with a delicate whimper as your slick walls swallowed him whole. This pulled a throaty groan from Jimmy. It was such a display, and for a moment, he wondered if you’d ever been with a man. How obedient and pliable you were underneath him… was that pillowy soft virginity or just the drugs kickin’ in?

Thinking was hard and instinct took over again, wiping all thoughts from his mind, save for the way you felt. You were warm and tight, clenching around his shaft. He jerked his hips up into you, protruding veins massaging your walls. Your attention dropped between you two again, eyes glazed over as his thick cock disappeared inside you, bottoming out each time.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had moved to focus on the way your tits bounced with the power of his thrusts. The visual drove him crazy. Made him hungrier. Craving your taste, Jimmy’s mouth was suddenly on yours, sloppy and hurried. His greedy tongue felt around every inch of your mouth and slipped wetly along your tongue. You did your best to keep up, tasting him all the same, but he was taking the lead. You inhaled a big breath through your nose and moaned into his mouth.

There was a cacophony of pleasure around you, coming from every direction. Wet sounds and hushed moans, peppered with lewd mutterings. Somewhere in your mind, you knew what you were a part of, what you’d stumbled into. Had you been more coherent, it might’ve embarrassed you, but the deep, carnal sounds that Jimmy was making were the only ones that mattered. Suddenly, you furrowed your brows, frowning into the kiss; someone was incessantly petting your hair and grumbling excitedly behind you. You tried to wave them away, but when you lifted your hand above your head, Jimmy reached for you, pinning your hand there.

“Mmmhh…” Breathless, Jimmy pulled away to look at you again, breath rushing out from between kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you harshly onto his cock. You winced, but pressed your legs open further, hungry for the sensation. Eve came from behind Jimmy, pausing to run her hand through his caramel coloured hair, gripping it tightly briefly before letting go. Jimmy moaned above you, and before you could protest someone took hold of your hands at the wrists, holding them firmly above your head. With a little whimper, you tried to wrestle around from them, but failed. Eve’s sweet voice came from behind the chaise then, praises drifting down atop of you. Your head rolled upwards to the sound of the woman’s voice, again trying to find it. You couldn’t, and it didn’t seem like Jimmy wanted you to. His conjoined fingers were on your face again, gently pulling you back to face him.

“Eyes on me, baby… right here… that’s it. Atta’ girl.”

You blinked a few times, refocusing on his face. His tanned skin had a blush to it now, covered in sweat. He humped you furiously, his dick slipping in and out of your weeping cunt, rocking your body back and forth. You were close, there was an unmistakable tightening in your abdomen. Jimmy seemed to know this. More than knowing it, he could feel it; the way your tight little cunt quivered, clenching tighter and tighter around him. “C’mon baby, lemme’ hear that voice of yours…”

You opened your mouth, letting the whining moans free.

“Good girl,” Eve cooed above you. “Such a good girl…”

As you continued meeting Jimmy’s thrusts with moans, he picked up his pace, hands snaking around the back of your body to take greedy, punishing fistfuls of your ass. His hands were so big and seemed to envelop you entirely, kneading your soft curves like dough. He came with a low grunt, gripped you hard and pulled himself into you as he climaxed. Jimmy coated your insides like the glaze on funnel cake, and you got to feeling even woozier than before. The feeling was too much, and pushed you over the slick edge. You let out a shrill cry, pulsing around him, fighting against Eve’s grip, who held you fast. There were sounds all around you as you came, excited murmurs and whispers. As your orgasm ebbed and Jimmy softened inside of you, finally, your hands were freed, and they found Jimmy’s florid, sweaty neck, pulling your forehead to his chest.

You remembered the way his chest heaved laboriously above you with each breath, shaky with expelled lust.

You blinked, your jaw hanging slack. He was still standing there, looking at you with that syrupy flirt in his eyes. You were suddenly dizzy with need. The ache between your thighs was no longer inexplicable, and your heart thudded in your chest.

“Hey!” Jimmy called across the field, one hand extended in a friendly wave. “We oughta’ do that again sometime, baby!”

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#fuck it here it is #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy Darling x you #ahs smut #AHS Freakshow #American horror story #Amazon Eve #Amazon Eve x reader #myfics

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formulalfc · 3 months

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Hey can you write a long story about pablo gavi finding out the reader is pregnant with his baby and when his friends find out they celebrate by a party?

We're Having A Baby

Pablo Gavi x Reader

tw-none i don't think

You had known for about a week now having taken a test when you missed your period for the second month in a row. Your heart had burst when you saw the positive result, you and Pablo had been trying for ages to have a baby and you were finally pregnant.

You didn't want to do anything too big to tell your boyfriend so you brought a mini Barca shirt with papa written on the back and laid it out on the table with the positive pregnancy test next to it.

When he got home from training he searched for you until he found you grinning in the kitchen. He looked at you confused until he spotted your surprise on the counter, moving closer to see what it was.

You saw the cogs turning in his brain for a minute before he looked up at you with tears lining his eyes.

"You're pregnant? We're having a baby?"

You nodded your head, tears springing to your eyes as well as he moved over to you and wrapped you in his arms, body shaking as tears escaped his eyes.

He pulled back to look at you, love and pride shining in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to take care of you, okay baby? You don't need to worry about anything, we're in this together I'll be by your side every step of the way my love."

He gets down on his knees before you and grins, planting kisses all over your flat stomach, excitement brewing as he thinks about you having a little baby bump.

"Hey little one, I'm your dad. Me and your mamma already love you so so much, we're gunna look after you. Please don't give your mamma a hard time okay? She means a lot to me and I don't want her to be sick."

You both spend the rest of the day cuddling on the couch, Pablo cradling you against his chest, and talking about all the things you need to get and how much your life is going to change.

The day after, Gavi let his teammates know about the news before you guys posted it on social media, the lads were all overjoyed for you guys.

And so they planned you guys a little party for a week later, a get-together of all Pablo's teammates and their partners, and also getting in contact with your families and bringing them along as well.

You and Gavi were so excited to have everyone you love all together in one room, the smiles on your faces never leaving as they all showered you with gifts for your baby and their loving words.

Gavi didn't leave your side the whole time, and arm wrapped around your waist, stroking at your side as you spoke to someone about your recent bouts of morning sickness.

Your heart swelled as he spoke to your parents about all the things he had bought and how he'd started baby-proofing the house already. You couldn't be happier to be having a baby with Pablo and you were so excited to see him become a dad to your little one.

inbox is open send me some fic requests <3

#fic's with shan ;)#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #barcalona #fc barcelona #dad!pablo gavi

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aechii · 10 months

Text

₍⁠₍ OF LOVE AND FASHiON ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! last fic for the day booooo 😥 i dont know if i will be able to post any tmrrw, but i hope i can. anyways enjoy my lovelies

p.s. there's a little written part in this but it's abt 500-600 words

[y/n]'s heart's racing. every palpitation hammers against her chest with much force, so much so that her full-upon-entry water has decreased to less than half left in just 30 minutes. the heat still fused with the air, but as the sun begins to sleep, it loses its energy, leaving a cool undercurrent that presses into the skin of all the attendees. she's so glad about the cooler weather, finding it completely unfathomable how she would've coped if the heat joined tham at night as well.

but the man seated beside her crashes all of her composure, and her body begins to feel hot and strangled.

she hasn't seen such a visually blessed male specimen in all the years of her living, and the fact that his body was so close to hers because of the crammed seating made matters worse. she can't think, breathe or concentrate on the influx of dressed models that come and go non-stop.

"you look disgusted."

the voice comes from right beside her, and her head whips around, startled. the man that has enraptured her entire conscience smiles goofily at her, and her heart wavers.

"what? me?"

"yes," he chuckles softly, "you."

his eyes turn back to the show before them, yet he continues speaking before [y/n] can justify herself, "i don't blame you, though. some of the outfits are... questionable."

his facial expressions are priceless, and [y/n] falls into a bout of laughter, "you're sick!"

he looks on seriously, eyes flashing with extreme judgement, "i'm not lying! how does anyone find pairing a skirt and baggy trousers aesthetic?"

the combination, that [y/n] had, most likely, missed from being consumed by her thoughts, makes her grimace, "yeah, that wasn't a good look at all."

he turns back to face her and, god, he stares so intently that she has to look away.

"speaking of outfits, what brand you wearing? 'cause i know it's not lv for sure, i'm not seeing any," he thinks of the right words, "over exposure of the logo."

"that's one way to put it," [y/n] snickers, looking down at her outfit, "i made it all myself... apart from the shoes of course."

the boy is taken aback, mouth agape and eyes wide, "no way!"

she begins to feel flustered by his reaction and just smiles.

"that's so cool, honestly. i would take more pride in that than wearing a slutted out luxury brand."

"slutted out?" [y/n] can't believe her ears; he's going to kill her, she's sure.

"how the hell did you come up that?!"

the boy purses his lips, looking smug, "i'm just that amazing."

"you're delusional."

he pretends to think for a moment, "delusional enough to think i'd get your number?"

[y/n]'s eyebrows shot up, "you want... my number?"

he doesn't hesitate to nod, "i don't think i'll be leaving without it."

jobe, who had been painfully listening in on their conversation, decides to make himself apparent, "don't do it, you'll regret it."

she turns around, coming face to face with a younger boy who looks almost identical to the one she had been speaking with for the past 15 minutes.

"you two brothers?"

the older one responds, "yeah, he's a cockblock though, don't listen to him."

"cockblock? jude, i'm trying to save her life!"

ah, so that's his name.

"clear off, jobe," he rolls his eyes, turning back to the girl sitting beside him, "sorry about that- so, your number?"

"don't do it!"

and much to his dismay, she does.

y/n_l/n

liked by judebellingham and 23,899 others

y/n_l/n paris photo dump !! met some cool ass people there lowkey

view comments...

judebellingham was lovely meeting you, such a vibe 😆

y/n_l/n you too!! <3

yfn__ best time of my life honestly

y/n_l/n paris at night is a sight to see

user1 you look GORGEOUS

user2 i really missed pfw just a day after i left france </3

user3 JUDE????

user4 I'M ACTUALLY SO SHOCKED

user5 😮

user6 WE FOUND HERRRRR

user7 and jude beat me to it already 😐

judebellingham

liked by y/n_l/n and 899,231 others

judebellingham ❤🇫🇷

view comments...

y/n_l/n love the after party candid, send it to me plz xx + tell jobe i'm sorry but not sorry

judebellingham you look so pretty in it ofc + he'll see it anyways xx y/n_l/n @/judebellingham stop plz 😭🛑 jobebellingham @/y/n_l/n buy me croissaints and maybe i'll forgive you

jadonsancho freshh 🔥

user1 who's that girl in the last pic????

user2 someone who he met at the lv show, got her number and everthingggg 😭

user3 AND SHE KNOWS JOBE TOO? that's my chance stripped unrightfully away from me </3

user4 icel, she's gorgeous AAAAA

user5 this is my 13th reason

#work de aechii 🫧#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham romance #jude bellingham #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fanfic #borussia dortmund #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

A New Tradition

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't have any holiday traditions, but maybe he can start something new with you. Word Count: Over 2.5k Warnings: Slight angst, mention of trauma, pining, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). Future fluff and smut for this couple. A/N: This idea hit me and it wouldn't let go until I wrote it down. Set in the same AU as lumberjack!Steve, I hope to share more when I can. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at the ceiling from the floor as he tried to fall asleep. Evergreen and spice lingered in his nostrils from the earlier festivities of the evening. One of the songs you sang over dinner played in a loop in his head, a beautiful melody of hope.

It didn't stop him from feeling as cold as the weather outside.

Random bouts of insomnia weren't new to him, but he couldn't put his finger on what his issue was tonight. It was a good day filled with happy moments thanks to you, the neighbor he harbored a crush on. He moved into the building around the same time as you after his pardon and someone delivered one of your packages to his door by mistake. Luckily you lived just across the hall and he made sure the box ended up in your hands.

He hadn’t expected a goddess in human form to answer the door.

“I got your box,” he said harsher than he intended to.

He half expected you to slam the door in his face for his tone. If you recognized him as the former Winter Soldier, you kept it to yourself. In fact, you didn’t look afraid of him at all as you took the box from his hands. He almost told you that you should be scared of him.

“Thank you so much for bringing it over,” you smiled.

It was the start of an unexpected friendship. He tried to find excuses to stop and talk to you whenever he saw you, which ended with him giving you an awkward smile in the beginning before he walked away. He used to know how to talk to girls and it was silly having a crush on a neighbor when he was trying to get his head on straight.

If only you didn’t make it so easy to want.

And you either found him endearing or entertaining since you began to invite him over for dinners.

Every other week, you’d trade off meals and talk about the day. You split your day between your job and making and selling jewelry online. The pieces you showed him were beautiful. You put so much care into them.

While he couldn’t give you all the details of his missions, he found himself more comfortable talking to you as time went on. One of the things he liked was that you always asked what he needed. If he wanted advice, you’d give it. If he wanted you to listen, you did just that. If he just wanted to talk, you chatted with ease.

You even stayed up with him after a few nightmares.

He was used to dealing with people who had agendas or messed with his head, but you didn’t play games.

Steve and Sam were both happy when he finally told them about you. After the former Captain America found his own girl and a bit of peace after everything, he hoped Bucky was on the path to doing the same. It impressed Sam that he actually talked to you instead of keeping everything inside.

It didn’t stop him from feeling like a burden some days.

“You’re always welcome at my place and you can always talk to me, Jamie.”

No one else was allowed to call him that.

When you heard he wasn’t doing anything around the holidays, you offered to make him a nice dinner since you wouldn't be around your family. They were, unfortunately, too far away for a quick visit. You joked that he had to watch a movie with you after dinner if he decided to come over. It was nice that you extended an invitation to him, especially when he didn’t have any traditions or anything else to look forward to.

Bucky had every intention of getting you the perfect present until an extended mission came up. He barely made it back in time to see you. Steve had to rush home to his girl and the same with Sam and his family. He declined both of their offers for him to join them, not wanting to impose on them or let you down by not showing up.

"You made it!" you said excitedly when you opened the door, looking as gorgeous as ever in a little black dress. He'd fantasize about you in it later. "You aren't hurt? You're okay?"

"Not a scratch," he assured you when he stopped staring.

"Good," you sighed in relief. "May I give you a hug? I missed you."

You didn't give him hugs without his permission and he appreciated your thoughtfulness that he might not want to be touched some days. He held his arms out for you as he wordlessly answered, taking a moment to cherish your embrace when you moved close. He didn't let it linger since he didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

But he wished he would've held you a bit longer.

"Missed you, too," he whispered as you led him inside.

If he read into it, he would’ve thought the setup was romantic. He felt a little underdressed in his leather jacket and jeans, but you didn't judge. You served by candlelight and you made sure to include all sorts of dishes he enjoyed. He ate and savored every bite. You even had a gift waiting for him under the tree before you started the movie.

He almost hugged the personalized apron and small book of recipes you made for him. He already had a meal in mind to make for you as a thank you for the next weekly dinner. But that wasn't all. You pulled out a small, white and black box from the back of the tree and handed it to him.

"You're spoiling me," he joked.

"I wanted to," you teased, messing with the hem of your dress as he opened the box.

He held his breath as he held up the dog tags. They were almost an exact replica of the ones around his neck, but there was a difference when he flipped one of them over. He ran his thumb over the letters as he read them out loud.

"I am James Bucky Barnes."

He explained to you once his need to make amends. That he was no longer the Winter Soldier. That he didn't have a choice. You took his words and created a gift for him.

His hands destroyed so many things while yours brought beauty into the world.

"I hope you like it," you said, still messing with your dress. A nervous habit he picked up on. "I know you wear yours, but I thought it would be nice to have those just in case."

"Thank you," he croaked, clearing his throat as he carefully placed them back in the box. "And I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet for not having your gift ready."

"You came over and spent the evening with me. That is a gift," you said with such sincerity that he wasn’t worthy of receiving.

Of course you wouldn’t take any offense that he showed up empty-handed. Why were you so kind to him? He wished there was mistletoe nearby simply to have the excuse to kiss you. He also wanted to thank you for making him feel at home.

Do I have a home anymore?

Naturally, he chose to flee when that thought became too much.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" you asked carefully as he gathered his things and got ready to leave. “We don’t have to watch the movie.”

"I should get back to my place, but thank you," was all he said.

His place, but not his home.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"I will be," he said, not wanting to lie to you.

You nodded and thanked him for stopping by. You also told him to call or come back if he needed anything. The image of your sad smile as you walked him to the door would haunt him. He just knew it. He wondered if you’d ever invite him over again for another dinner after his abrupt departure.

He attempted to meditate once he got home, but it didn’t quiet his mind. Working out got some of the tension in his body out, but not much else. He debated going back to your place, but it was too late by then.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face before his eyes trailed to the clock on the wall. It was almost 3am and he knew sleep wouldn't come to him. He grabbed his phone and debated calling you. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted to hear your voice.

He half hoped you wouldn’t answer since you deserved a peaceful night of sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself until the two of you talked.

You answered on the second ring. “Hey, Bucky,” you said with a small yawn.

Were you up waiting for me to call or did I wake you?

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said immediately. He had to get that out there.

“Please, don’t apologize,” you replied. He knew he should’ve let you rest. “Do you need me to listen, talk, or give advice?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his vibranium hand forming a fist as he took a deep breath. “You treated me to a nice night. The best night and I just,” he gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

He was at a loss because everything tonight was right and he didn’t know what was wrong. If he couldn’t pinpoint the issue, how could he know how to fix it? How could you? It was bad enough when he was alone with his own mind and nightmares, but it was another when he felt helpless.

He didn’t like that sense of control being taken away from his own thoughts.

“Do you mind if I say something?” you offered after a few more seconds of silence.

“Not at all,” he whispered, if only to hear you speak.

“I think you might be feeling a bit alone or lost,” you said. He heard a bit of shuffling around and wondered if you were trying to get comfortable. “Holidays, for many, are about being with family and friends. When was the last time you got to celebrate with your loved ones?”

“Before I went off to war,” he whispered.

He swallowed as he put his head on the pillow. Hydra made sure he never felt the happiness of this time of year. The couple of years he went into hiding after the fall, he was alone. After healing in Wakanda, he went back into the fight. The snap happened.

And his family?

They’re long gone now.

Sam, Nat, everyone had their own traditions. Steve lost so much and deserved his quiet moments outside of the city. None of them needed to rearrange their lives to accommodate him.

Holidays were a joyous time, but also a reminder of things lost and what could have been.

“Jamie,” you breathed out. “If my dinner tonight upset you in any way, I’m-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he stopped you, gripping his phone tighter. “It isn’t your fault my family is gone and you aren’t the cause of my pain.”

One of the reasons he respected you was because you didn’t pity him. He didn’t want you to start tonight.

“Then I need you to take back your apology because you aren’t the cause of my pain either,” you argued.

Touche.

“But I left you alone after you went to all that trouble and had those gifts made for me,” he said.

Why are you not mad at me?

“It wasn’t any trouble, but maybe it was too much or overwhelming."

“I swear, it wasn’t,” he said. How could he make you believe him? “I just have no traditions now. No special meals, movies, gifts, things to pass on, nothing."

He did just fine on his own for years, but things changed. He wouldn’t have believed he deserved happy moments before therapy and meeting you, but he did and he does. You gave him a taste of what he could have. Why couldn't he let himself take it?

"Maybe I can help you create a new tradition."

"You're done more than enough," he promised, smiling at your offer.

You've done more than you could ever know.

“I wanted to give you a special night, but I didn’t check in to see if the holiday dinner was what you really wanted. I should’ve asked, Jamie.”

“Are you kidding? Without you, I wouldn’t have even had a holiday to celebrate. It was perfect,” he promised you, standing up as he tried to gather the courage to say that you are perfect. “Did you know the only thing I wanted to do when I got back was see you?”

“Really?” you asked in a small voice. “That was the only thing you wanted?”

“Really,” he said. It wasn’t a full confession, but it was coming out. “And that’s exactly what I got, so thank you.”

“Well, to be honest, the reason I suggested a movie was so we could possibly cuddle,” you admitted.

And I fucking ruined it.

“I would’ve liked cuddling,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I really liked your dress.”

“I wore that just for you,” you said in a hushed voice, like you were trying to keep quiet. “Is there anything else about tonight that you wish would’ve been different? If you could do it all over again?”

“Honestly?” he said, not caring that he only had his boxer briefs on as he left his bedroom and headed toward the main door. “I would’ve kissed you the moment I got back from the mission.”

Even with his super soldier hearing, he had no idea you were on the other side of the door until he opened it. You still had your phone in hand as you gazed at him, no longer wearing the black dress. You switched to red and green pajamas that looked amazing on you, but he would prefer them on his floor.

“New tradition proposal,” you smiled as you stepped inside and ended the call. “We have a nice meal together, exchange gifts by the tree, and cuddle on the couch for a movie.

"Okay," he smiled, hanging up his phone, too.

"And end the night with a kiss," you said hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

Your face fell when you took a step back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I should-”

He reached out to pull you back toward him, smiling when your eyes widened. “Kiss me every chance you get," he said as he removed his dog tags and put them around your neck. "Starting right now.”

You smiled just as bright as you did the first day he met you. “I think I’m going to like this tradition.”

“Me, too,” he whispered, pressing his lip against yours.

Bucky couldn’t wait to start many more traditions with you.

What other traditions would we like to see from our new couple? We have Valentine's Day!❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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