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chahnniesroom · 3 months

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for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic. formatted this on my phone bc i'm lazy so please let me know if anything looks weird!

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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Snail Masterlist

Hello and welcome, I'm Snail!

I write mainly "x reader" for the One-Piece fandom, all catalogued below the cut. I enjoy writing in my free time, forever chasing the green leaf of lettuce dangling in front of my eyes. I hope you enjoy your time on this page. It is a pleasure carving out worlds that you get to be placed in the middle of. Love you 🖤

Ao3: Archive of our Own link, if you prefer reading on that platform.

WIP List: My current works in progress.

Request: Guidelines for asking for a particular craving to be written for you.

Fic Gift Swapping: I write for you, you write for me. It's a win-win.

Pollen Masterlist: NSFW for multitude of characters for the pollen-trope.

Ko-Fi: If you feel so inclined to support me as I keep creating works, this is a link to enable that should you so desire.

Fic Inspo: mood boards, clips and prompts for all to use.

Glimpses: parts of my life I share.

Fic Recommendations: a collection of works I find myself returning to, written by some beautiful authors.

"Straw Hats and Beyond"

Monkey D. Luffy:

Bachata (Dance Series) (one-shot)

Gyrating, thrusting, swaying and grinding. Where did the straw-hat captain learn to dance in this way? The crew, holding many a whispered conversation regarding the captain's sultry movements, finally is approached head-on by the quartermaster of the Going Merry. Flushed cheeks, gasped breaths and soft smiles ensue as the captain aims to teach her a few of his moves.

Run Away With Me (one-shot)

After being left after a night of passion by her marine lover, sorrow eclipsed the hardening heart of the owner of the library. The librarian, after swearing off sea-baring men, is physically swept off her feet by a mischievous, straw-hat wearing captain who woos her with his undivided support of her dreams of romance.

Australian Luffy (HC Drabbles)

Just some silly dialogue with Aussie slang from Monkey D "Loz"

Ravenous (NSFW one-shot)

Luffy is hungry, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn’t care where it happens, how it happens, or what exactly happens - all he cares about is the who and when. The who is you, and the when is right now and until his hunger is fully satisfied.

Roronoa Zoro:

Blade Song(Dance Series) (one-shot)

The Straw-Hat pirate crew finds themselves amongst a fire-side, sea-front celebration. Swaying, gyrating and twirling occurs with all but one of the crew. The swordsman, never truly learning how to dance in such a way, regrets his miseducation as soon as he sees the object of his pining dancing within the arms of the blonde chef.

Flowers (one-shot)

Men are known to only receive flowers once in their lifetimes, and they are not even able to see them. The Straw-Hat botanist desires to rectify this for one member of the Straw-Hat pirates, the tri-sword wielding First Mate.

Gua-Sha (one-shot)

Slightly fixated by the dragging of the smooth rock against his crewmen's cheeks and jaw, Zoro immediately pipes up and welcomes the opportunity to have his face massaged to relieve any built up tension and pressure behind it. Pining always from afar, Zoro hopes this small moment would bring the two closer together.

Something Like That (request) (one-shot)

A traveler finds themselves accidentally crashing an exclusive event at Baratie, celebrating a foreign holiday with unusual customs. Pulling you away from your evening meal, your eyes met with the hazelnut gaze of a green-haired swordsman. A sprig of emerald leaves, pearls of flowers and a ribbon hung above your heads - what is this? why is he leaning down to press his lips atop your own?

You Deserve Better (Pollen!One-Shot NSFW)

Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Blackleg Sanji:

Bar Shift (4/4 Series)

An all-rounder, front of house manager finally acquires the first day off she's had in a very long time. Sanji, the ever faithful "work-husband" makes her breakfast just in time for Patty to break the news to her that her peaceful day off is to come to an end. Covering the bar shift for one of her staff members, shenanigans and mutual pining ensues.

Waltz (Dance Series) (one-shot)

The chief negotiator and relations expert of the Straw-Hat pirates attempts to teach her captain how to perform a waltz to woo the upper class in a formal setting. She finds joy in movement, but Luffy himself was found to be truly incapable of performing the dance to an adequate level. At lunch, she notices how Sanji holds himself; his posture strong and rigid as he effortlessly glides around the table. She asks him to dance, and he truly surprises her.

3, 2, 1 (request) (3/3 Series)

Sanji notices some interesting etchings against the Going Merry's Chronicler's Journal. Questioning her, she informs him the 'x's and numbers are indicating his amount of cigarette breaks per day and the duration they are taken. Brainstorming ideas on how to achieve the same rush of adrenaline, endorphins and breath control in a healthier way than nicatine addiction; the chronicler, in her genius, suggests they share kisses and bold embraces for the duration of his many breaks: all kept under the strict limit of the egg-shaped timer.

"Someone. Someone Help Me" (NSFW Pollen!Drabble)

"Thank You" (NSFW Pollen!One-Shot)

Sanji has inhaled pollen. There is nobody around to help him and he is a desperate, pleading, subby mess.

Your Flirty Chef (one-shot)

Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by moulding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Sanji x Reader x Zoro:

Eyes Meeting (NSFW part 1)

Lips Brushing (NSFW part 2)

Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss.

Koby:

To the ends of the earth (one-shot)

The newest recruits taken under the wing of Vice-Admiral Garp are desperately required of breaking in their training. Leaving them in the care of a young lieutenant, Koby begins to develop a crush on his superior as he pushes his body under her command to perform to the best of his abilities.

Téir Abhaile Riú (3/3 Series)

The mighty Marine vessel Vice-Admiral Garp captains was in dire need of repair. Docking against the peer of a small country town, the Marines are welcomed to the shore by an impromptu performance by the local town celebrity band: the 'Merry Mellifluous Quint'. One of the five members catches the eye and attention of the fast-learning, pink haired cadet who in term becomes immediately smitten by the attention she receives from him.

It's All Okay (NSFW One-Shot)

When submissive Koby gives in to his dominant craving, and all he's met with is support, praise and affirmation in your arms.

Trafalgar D Water Law:

Law Wants You (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law wants you. He wants all of you.

Don't Be So Shy (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law enjoys comforting a shy reader while they take control.

You're The Cure (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

That Thing I Like (One-Shot)

You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Eustass Kid:

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Soul King Brook:

Parts You Left Behind (one-shot)

You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Mistletoe (one-shot) (Straw-Hat holiday special)

The botanist aboard the Going Merry shares a cultural tradition with her crew; introducing them and reeducating them on the importance of mistletoe and the mischievousness of her playful lips. Every single member receives a kiss from the botanist; all welcome to her sharing her culture with them.

The Selkie and the Sailor: Mini Fic Drabble (One-Shot)

A mythical creature has rescued the captain of the straw-hat pirates from drowning in the sea. As her eyes meet with the crew, she is immediately taken with one of the sailors: Zoro, Sanji, Luffy

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Recovery (one-shot)

You are in a recovery cot in a hospital willing to accommodate you, resting as your body heals from your latest battle. Expecting to recover alone, you are pleasantly surprised to find yourself within the company of the person you craved the most.

Zoro, Sanji

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

Last One Laughing (One-Shot)

The Heart-Pirate crew were bent on getting their Captain to smile, no matter the cost. Swapping jokes after mealtime, you all continued to check over your shoulder to see if you managed to break the upturned curve into Law's face.

Platonic Heart-Pirates x reader

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?" (Dialogue)

How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

Lathered Up (NSFW One-Shot)

After spending far too long at sea in the Polar Tang, all you wanted was a shower. Your two lovers join you in ridding their bodies of grime while enjoying ridding you of your stress. Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin

"A little bit older"

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom Buggy Bratty Buggy Cross-Guild Interrogation The Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship. Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it. Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship. A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (8/10 Series)

The two wards of Dracule Mihawk and his green-haired apprentice stumble across a large collection of treasure in one of the large and ornate wings of Castle Kuraigana. The central object in the room is a embroidered pillow, a small circlet of intricately carved gold lay in the middle.

The three of them begin fiddling with it, it becomes stuck on the green-haired swordsman's finger. A struggle occurs, the ring slips from his finger and a large bell-like tinkle rings against the marble floor. Perona frantically tells the Ward to get it before it's noticed. She stoops, finds the ring and slips it on for safekeeping.

Mihawk, stumbling across the three of them, accuses them of toying with the object. His eyes widen as his focus shifts to the ring fitting perfectly on the appropriate finger of his ward.

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it."

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Red Haired Shanks:

Dancando Lambada (one-shot)

After your ship crashed just off the coast line of your hometown, your friend: the bride, is left without a Captain to perform her ceremony to unite her with her beau. Fortunately for you, you see a ship coming in off the coastline. Will their captain help you in exchange for a night of good food, fine drink and sensual dancing?

Remember Me (one-shot)

Ten years since the love of his life was claimed by the sea, Shanks finds himself celebrating her memory with many a drink in a fishing village. Spluttering over his amber ale, Benn Beckman pales in freight at the sight of a woman drinking merrily at the bar. But it couldn't be her, she was lost to him.

Where is my bride (Sapsorrow Spin Off Drabble)

Once lost, again found: Shanks has accidentally bcome lockd into a cruel plot to have him marry a woman he has never seen nor heart of. The timer is ticking, the claws of the spectre of a woman scorned tethered to him and awaiting to claim his soul should he fail. He has seven days to wed. But where are you?

Two More Times (one-shot NSFW)

A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Drabbles & Headcanons:

Shanks Likes to Dance HC Drabble

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Benn Beckman:

When You Had The Chance (one-shot)

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

"Mister Beckman" (one-shot)

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind And Gentle (One-Shot)

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You shot a baby? (Dialogue)

Part 2 (one-shot)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Donquixote Rosinante:

Despiértame mi Corazon (Dance Series) (Gift One-Shot)

You have been on the run from Donquixote Doflamingo, sheltering and caring for a young, sick child. Your emotions catch up with you as you process the change your life has led you to. You’ve left it all: family, career, friends - all to support Rosinante in his quest to cure the boy. Upon seeing you in this state, your Corazon will do anything to see you smile again.

Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang (crack dialogue)

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son.

Rosinante's Trip Down Under (one-shot)

Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Pretty Red Ribbon (one-shot)

After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Play Stupid Games Win Stupid Prizes (NSFW One-Shot)

Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Bogard:

The Break is Never Easy (Dance Series) (request) (one-shot)

You were invited as an artist to showcase your work at the bi-anual ball thrown for the marines. A decade has passed between you and your severance from your ex-fiance, old flames reigniting as tension builds throughout the night.

Misc Drabbles:

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him. Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader.

"A little bit bolder"

Chef Zeff:

Honey Glazed (one-shot)

After completing the closing shift of chaotic energy aboard Baratie, conversations turn into flirtations as the chef's hold a completely hypothetical conversation regarding how to adequately prepare and cook-with human. The front of house manager offers her body to be the central focus for the fixation of the chef's unhinged thoughts. Zeff does not shy away from a flirtatious challenge.

Monkey D Garp:

Bonnie Lass: Part 1, Part 2(NSFW) (2/2 Series)

As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face.

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battlekidx2 · 2 months

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I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.

Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.

The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)

I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).

Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )

Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy

The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)

They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.

They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.

Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:

Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!

The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus

I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!

The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)

Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.

Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).

The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.

I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.

I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.

My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)

LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.

The Cure for Inexorable Boredom

Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)

Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)

Don't Say It

I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.

I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.

I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).

These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel fics #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #angel dust #husk #huskerdust #charlie morningstar #I love all of these fics #these writers are all so talented

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blackhairedjjun · 8 months

Text

the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, friends to lovers, reader who likes to cook, ft. friend!taehyun | word count: 2.7k | warnings: food, some profanity

author's notes: yeonjun birthday fic made it on time!! this was more rushed than my usual writing bc i was cramming it in between work, i've been super busy these days :'( but i've wanted to do yeonjun with an s/o who loves to cook for him for a while, and his birthday was the perfect opportunity to write it. so i'm relieved to get this out!

this fic has been cross-posted to ao3 here

the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

you never believed the sentiment yourself until your friend taehyun invited you to hang out with some of his other friends. at the first mention you had doubts about going, but when taehyun mentioned the word potluck, you just couldn’t resist 一 he knew it was a magic word for you.

you didn’t prepare anything too fancy, just a modest batch of tteokbokki. you love how comforting the dish was, from the warm and spicy aroma of the sauce to its soft and springy rice cakes, and it’s a safe thing to make to leave a good impression on taehyun’s friends. at his house you set your tteokbokki on the makeshift buffet table that he had set up, and pray that the guests would actually give your dish a chance.

you underestimated just how much of an impact it would have.

taehyun’s friends love it, but one friend in particular catches your eye. as he takes his first bite his expression changes, his whole face seemingly glowing with delight. his smile is so wide that he’s barely able to keep his mouth shut to chew, and he squirms in his seat in a little dance.

you’ve cooked for others plenty of times before, but you’ve never seen anyone so utterly transformed by your cooking.

“this is so good! mm, i’m so happy... this is so yummy, really... wait, who brought this again?”

taehyun gestures towards you. “y/n cooked it. they’re really good, right? this is, well, it’s their thing.”

his friend whips his head towards you, the wide smile still plastered on his face. it reaches all the way to his eyes, and you see the way they shine in appreciation.

“thank you so much for bringing this,” he says. “can you make this again when you come back?”

you’ve only known this friend for an hour or so and he’s already talking about coming back, which makes your heart flutter and your face grow warm. “s-sure, i’d love to.”

it’s a few months before you’re free again to come to the next hangout, and when taehyun reintroduces you to his friends you note the name of the one whose face lit up at your tteokbokki: yeonjun. this time you’ve brought some spaghetti cooked in freshly made tomato sauce, and again it’s a hit. yeonjun loves it as much as the tteokbokki, and when he’s slurped up his plate and cleaned up he thanks you profusely and looks at you as if you were a saint 一 the patron saint of good food, perhaps. you can’t help but give him a shy smile, and you swear that his cheeks turned a little pink at the gesture.

the day flies by in the presence of good food and good company. when you finally have to leave, yeonjun stops you for a moment; he meets your gaze head on, but the fidgeting of his hands betrays him.

“d’you want to hang out sometime? just you and me, i mean.”

“oh, are you sick of taehyun too?”

from the corner of your eye you see your mutual friend laugh and give you a sly grin. your remark seems to fluster yeonjun, though; he turns his head away to collect himself, which only makes taehyun laugh a bit more.

“i was kidding, i was kidding. but yeah, i’d love to hang out.”

“cool, great.”

“yeah, cool.”

you try to play it off but your heart pounds in your ears. and though yeonjun is leaning against the wall and trying to seem calm about the whole thing, his heart is racing just as much.

you don’t cook for your first hangout together (he brings you to his favorite ramen shop in the area, which also happens to be your favorite ramen shop in the area) but on your second hangout you make an impromptu meal by cobbling together a stew from whatever you have in your fridge. yeonjun devours it, eating every vegetable and chunk of meat and sip of stew with pure joy all over his face, and when he’s done he stands up to wash the dishes for you. you try to stop him, only for him to gently take your hand before you can grab a sponge. his touch sends a jolt of electricity right through you.

“let me do this for you,” he says. “i wanna thank you for the meal.”

“you don’t have to, yeonjun, i just threw a bunch of stuff together in a pot一”

“please?” he says with a pout. “you’re so sweet for making this, let me repay you.”

his eyes meet yours and you feel your heart soften at the way he looks at you. “okay, fine... and thank you.”

you hang out with him many more times 一 sometimes he invites you, other times you invite him. there’s always a bit of food to share, whether it’s snacks from the convenience store or a home-cooked meal by yourself, but it’s the little moments between the bites of food that make the time worth it.

one hot afternoon yeonjun helps you clean up after your ice cream has melted and dripped on you, and his hands brush against yours as he dabs an extra napkin against a messy spot on your sleeve. another evening you laugh when he spills some of his pasta out of his plate from too much excitement, and you tut playfully as you give him a bit of your share. on another day you plan to have breakfast together at a nice restaurant to watch the sunrise, only for both of you to stay up late and oversleep. instead you invite him over and team up to make lunch, and soon your kitchen is a mess of flour and breadcrumbs from the breaded pork cutlets you’re trying to make. you sing along to yeonjun’s playlist as you soak a piece of pork in egg, and next to you he draws a heart with the flour residue on the countertop.

you don’t know when exactly your hangouts cross the threshold into dates, but at one point you realize that things feel different when it’s just you and him around. the world feels smaller, the light of day feels brighter, and even the meals you cook seem to stay warmer for longer. taehyun catches up with you over text as usual all throughout, and when you tell him about your friendship with yeonjun, he simply texts back: friendship?

一

when yeonjun’s birthday draws near, you know exactly what you want to do: make one of his favorite foods, pho, from scratch. finding a good recipe online is easy, and visit to your local market provides you with every ingredient you need. it’s not the most complicated thing you’ve tried to make, and watching videos of other chefs try it out gives you a bit of confidence.

so why on earth are you so damn nervous to make it?

“i’ve never been so scared to fuck up a dish in my life,” you tell taehyun as you skim some fat off the top of the broth simmering away in a pot. it’s the day of yeonjun’s birthday and you’ve got another hangout (or date?) later that night, and taehyun has offered to help with preps.

“when you’re scared for something, it just means that you care a lot about it,” he says. he looks up from chopping the onions for the pho and gives you a nod. “you’ve cooked gifts for other people before, you can definitely do this.”

“that’s exactly it!” you say, tossing away the scum you’ve collected. “i made a whole pizza for your birthday this year, taehyun. i roasted pork for my parents’ wedding anniversary, and that should’ve been way scarier than this. but with yeonjun, i… i feel like i can’t fuck this up. if i think about serving him bad pho or even mediocre pho and him getting sad over it, it makes me want to throw myself out of here and go into hiding forever. i’ve never felt like that about anything before.”

“you’ve known him for a few months, not as long as you’ve known me. you want to show the best of yourself for him.” taehyun smiles. “that’s not a bad thing at all.”

“i guess.” you fidget with a wooden spoon as you mull over his words. he’s right, but it’s not like you wanted to settle for mediocrity with your other friends or with your parents either. there’s something else at play, but you dare not admit it out loud. (taehyun already knows anyway, you figure.)

you’re glad to have your friend’s company in the hours it takes for the broth to fully absorb all the flavors. taehyun puts on some of your favorite shows and helps you stretch to ease away your stress, and though you check on your pot from time to time, the two of you also prepare your space. he tells you about his own forays into cooking — he recently ordered a new set of knives that he can’t wait to try — as you place a clean tablecloth on the dining table and wash a set of bowls. his company grounds you and makes the nervousness swirling around in your stomach feel more like a gentle current than a roaring wave.

with the broth done and most of the pho ingredients ready for assembly, the two of you are waiting for the rice noodles to cook when a text from yeonjun arrives.

i’ll be there in 15 mins!

taehyun reads the text over your shoulder and grins. “do you need any more help with the pho?”

“nah, i’m good.”

“that means i can leave, then,” he says with an odd half-smile you rarely see on him. “enjoy your dinner with yeonjun.”

“thanks, taehyun. hey, wait一”

he picks up his bag in record speed and when you blink, he’s at your doorway. “tell me about it over text.”

“hey!”

he’s gone.

you’ve never seen taehyun leave your apartment so fast, and you suspect he knows something that you don’t. still, you don’t let yourself worry about it too much, not when preparing your pho should be the first thing on your mind. you check back on the noodles boiling away in your pot and let out a sigh.

i hope this turns out well, you think.

一

“so, y/n, what do you have ready for tonight? i hope it’s go一 oh...”

“happy birthday, yeonjun.”

whatever remark he was about to make fades into silence when you set down two bowls of pho in front of him. he’s entranced by the savory aroma, the steam swirling upward from each bowl, the noodles and thin slices of onions nearly glistening under the light. you see his lips form a perfect O, the way it always does when his favorite food shows up in front of him.

he doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble as you set down each bowl, or the way your eyes nervously dart back and forth between the pho and his expression. you wonder if he’s excited enough, if the pho will live up to his expectations, then you look at his bowl and think maybe he would like more noodles, maybe the cilantro should be fresher, maybe the broth isn’t salty or sour or spicy enough...

taehyun always said you’re your own worst critic, and you feel all the little criticisms coming in one after the other as you settle down opposite yeonjun. he does a little dance in his seat as he squeezes the lime over the bowl, then looks at you with a smile that lights up his whole face. “it smells so good,” he says. “i can’t wait!”

that’s one good sign, but nothing definitive.

“well, i won’t keep you waiting any longer,” you say. “dig in!”

“thank you for the food!”

the moment it takes for him to slurp up the noodles feels like an eternity to you. as you watch him eat, you pray that the first slurp was as good as it should be, that the noodles were firm enough. then he looks up from the bowl and at you, and you pray that—

he’s smiling.

it’s different from his earlier excited smile. this one also reaches all the way up to his eyes, but it’s laced with pure adoration. you’ve seen the way his face changes after eating good food countless times, but now this expression seems more tender; he gazes at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

you swallow. “is it… good?”

“good? it’s amazing. y/n… you’re so good to me.”

you’re smiling back at him too, and something blooms in you as you gaze back. you feel full of many things: relief, appreciation, affection…

maybe even love.

you feel it bloom as you watch him slurp on the broth and savor each piece of beef with gusto, stopping only to gush about how good it is and how good you are. you feel it settle in you when you dig into your own bowl, savoring the rich flavors of the beef and spices and lime that you poured yourself into, not caring when a bit of broth dribbles off your chin or a noodle falls off and yeonjun giggles at the sight. and you feel it grow in your heart when you try to reach for his empty bowl to wash up, only for him to take your hand again. this time you feel not a jolt of electricity but a wave of warmth.

“rest, you worked hard today. i’ll clean up.”

“it’s your birthday, yeonjun! you are not washing the dishes on your birthday.”

“but what if i want to?” he pouts at you and he knows you can’t resist. “or we can wash them together? what if i want to spend my birthday washing up with you?”

you sigh but relent.

you don’t dare say it to him, but washing up with yeonjun is… comforting. it takes longer than usual, but you don’t mind as he talks about the gift his mom mailed him or about his plans with taehyun and the other guys tomorrow. he tells you some pretty bad dad jokes and you nearly drop the last bowl you’re rinsing from laughing at how awful they are.

he’s still laughing as he pries the clean bowl from your hands and sets it on the rack to dry, and as his hands brush yours, you meet his gaze. he’s looking at you with that same tender look from when he first tried the pho, and your cheeks begin to warm.

“thank you for cooking for me.”

“of course, i want to—”

“you’re always so good to me,” he says. he takes your hands in his, and yours start to tremble; it’s okay, because his do too. “i’ve never had someone who treated me like this before. i want to… i…”

he falters and looks away from you, and you see a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. he sucks in a breath and when he looks at you again, you move your face closer to his.

you don’t remember who initiates the kiss; all you know is that his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. he wraps his arms around you and you relax in his arms, knowing that nothing your ever make will taste as sweet as this.

when you break apart for air he looks sheepish, nothing like the confident friend you’ve known, but you love the way his eyes shine. his voice is breathy when he speaks: “i like you, y/n.”

“i like you too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and brushing your nose against his. a second kiss would be even sweeter, and his lips nearly brush against yours when…

your phone rings and you nearly jump out of his arms.

“what the hell!”

it’s taehyun.

beomgyu i think hyung would be confessing right about now

oh wrong chat

hi y/n :)

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj originals

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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

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

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."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#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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venomous-qwille · 7 months

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Ghost in the Machine

This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.

I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.

What is Ghost in The Machine?

GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.

Where can I read the fic?

GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!

There is also a podfic, which you can find here:

Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient <3

Where can I see the art?

On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman

FAQ~

Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?

One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD

*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)

Where are all the Moons?

Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!

Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?

Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)

Can I create fanart of GITM?

Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create fanfic of GITM?

Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Do you have character refs I can use?

There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.

There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.

Where can I find the playlist?

I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!

I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?

I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.

Is there a GITM discord?

Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).

It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.

Can I smooch the robots?

Yes.

All of them?

All of them.

#master post #ghost in the machine #ghost in the machine au #gitm au #soleil #clip.exe #sanii drop #misuta moon #sunspot mk1 #harvest moon #sunflower and the sandman #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #nova #gitm yn #sombra #SoundCloud

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winchester-reload · 7 months

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Directions: Fill each prompt ON or After each day listed (the 1st-15th of October, then again on the 31st for our bonus day), then post it on your desired social media platform using tag #suptober23. Be sure to include which prompt you're fulfilling in each post. You can write, you can make art. You can do both! You decide. Rules: All posts must be Supernatural-themed. Like, comment, and reblog others' posts. No hate will be tolerated, including actor hate. NO AI. Do not throw a photo in a Photoshop filter and post it as art. Challenge yourself to create. Noncon, incest, and hate will not be reblogged.

To include your work in the Suptober 2023 archive, you must ALSO post it to the collection in Ao3!

In previous years, I've worked diligently to reblog each and every post listed in the tag to include in an archive on tumblr. However, more than a few things have changed in the past six years, including my earlier creeping bedtime. This year, I'd like to move the archive to Ao3 for something more inclusive. That means this year, it's up to you to get your work in there! Authors: be sure to use tags so your stories are searchable! * Artists: mind ao3's rules for images. You may choose to include a clickable link instead of the art itself.

Posting starts October 1st, 2023.

Special thank you to my friends over on Patreon for their help with this year's list! Truly without them, this would not be happening. Consider joining to help support more events like this! For a text copy of the prompts go here! Join the Discord

FAQ's

Why aren't there 31 prompts this year? Because I'm changing it up to something a little less overwhelming for you and me. Fill all the days, and if you're still hungry for more, send me a message and let me know it wasn't enough so I can take that into account for next year!

I posted my work and you haven't reblogged it. What did I do wrong? Probably nothing. I may have just missed it, which will happen. The good news is, it's up to you to include your work in an archive this year, so be sure to do that! Also be sure to tag it correctly using #suptober23, and the day you're fulfilling.

I'm really busy in October, can I post it later? Yes! The collection won't close.

I can't write or draw, is there another way I can participate? Yes, you can support all the creators by liking, commenting, and reblogging their work. It's just as important as the things being posted. Also, I bet you'll soon realize you absolute can make art and write too! There's no skill level required to have fun.

How long do the stories need to be? There's no word length just be sure to make a good effort, and challenge yourself.

Can I include multiple days in one fic? Sure, but don't post early, and be sure to tag for each day both here on tumblr (if you're posting to tumblr) and on Ao3. In the past, people have used each prompt as a new chapter, and that works great for a cohesive project!

Can I repost the prompt list with my posts? Yep. Go ham. Use at will.

More questions for me? Send me an ask!

#suptober23 #the suptober 2023 prompt list #supernatural #spn fanart #spn fanfic #ao3 #creative challenge

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whimsyfinny · 3 months

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 2

#dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader

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writing-intheundercroft · 4 months

Text

At Home - S. Sallow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5,311

Rating: E (Smut, Oral and Vaginal Sex, slight breeding kink, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: Sebastian drags you out of bed on a Saturday to look at a possible new home.

A/N: Two things: one, I'm now two for two on fics featuring a sink sex scene. Two, I put Sebastian through enough angst in my long fic that I need to write him happy and domestic in another universe. Enjoy!

Taglist: @legacygirlingreen @kaylasallow @eternalremorse @happyaccidentsonly @sallowslady @legendoftortor @sissyisawitch @rainychocofroggy @blueraineshadows @moonstruckmoony @beezlub @loving-him-was-red13

“I don’t know if I like the lighting here.” You frown, looking out the small kitchen window. It’s minuscule, and you’re looking straight out into a brick alleyway. “I think a kitchen should be bright, shouldn’t it?”

Sebastian leans against the door frame, his hand on his face. “Pet, you’re killing me here.” he says, a tortured look on his face. “This is the eleventh house we’ve looked at. At this rate, we’ve turned down half the available housing in London.”

“I know, I know.” You fuss, crossing your arms. “But it needs to be just right. I don’t want to lease just any house, you know.”

“I do know, but we’re going to burst out of my place any day now,” Sebastian grumbles.

That was the truth–your belongings had overtaken the space, and there was not a free spot in his bachelor pad for anything else. One night, you argued over all the books Sebastian had accumulated, while he griped about your ever growing wand handle collection taking over the dresser. Sebastian had tripped mid-argument, causing a fit of laughter on your end while you patched up his sprained ankle.

Only after you’d kissed it better did Sebastian declare that it was time to find a new place.

“But it makes no sense,” Sebastian whines. “You still have your flat, and you never sleep there.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You raise an eyebrow. “ Someone isn’t comfortable sleeping there. You know, it’s just a bed.”

Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in the doorway. He’s refused to sleep at your place ever since he found out your ex-fiance purchased your bed frame and mattress for you. “I won’t sleep in some other man’s bed.” he says firmly.

You roll your eyes, walking towards him. “It’s not another man’s bed, it’s my bed. You really won’t, not even if I want you to?” You pout, drumming your fingers against his chest.

The brunette gulps. “No.” he says, and that’s that.

Your fingers curl around his suspenders. “Then, we need to find a house with proper lighting.” you announce. “And a good kitchen. This one is rubbish.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Add that to the list of requirements then,” he drawls. “We’ll be looking for houses for the next five years.”

The two of you leave the house hand in hand. After having settled into your new day shift at the hospital, you finally felt comfortable taking more vacation days. You must admit, Sebastian forcing you to take more time off has been good for your mental health. Your brain has never felt clearer, and for once in your life, you’re planning more than a month ahead. Summer is rapidly approaching, and Sebastian has suggested a few places for the two of you to go away on a proper adult holiday. The last time you were together, you could hardly spare two galleons outside of your rent between the two of you. Now that you’re grown with successful careers and your own bank accounts, Sebastian is planning your first vacation as a couple.

As a couple. Those words sound sweet in your head.

It’s been nearly eight months since the two of you reunited, three since Sebastian was promoted at the department of magical law enforcement. It honestly feels like things can’t possibly get any better for the two of you. Nothing’s changed, not really . You still have your own life, your friends, your job–just now, you have Sebastian again. Every day you wake up beside him, you pinch yourself, thanking the gods it's still your reality.

Until you trip over Sebastian’s boots, which are littered all over the bedroom floor.

“It’s impossible to find a nice house in London,” you complain. “Either they’re too small, not enough storage, terrible lighting. Surely we make enough money between the two of us to afford a nicer place.”

“Well, location is a tricky bit.” Sebastian admits. “Somewhere close enough to the ministry for me, but close enough to St. Mungo’s for you. And while we do have a fair bit of galleons, I would like to save them for something more important.”

“More important?” you tilt your head in confusion.

“You’ll see,” Sebastian smiles devilishly. “Shall we get lunch?”

He runs his thumb over your hand as he swings it back and forth, guiding you through the bustling streets of London. You made a mental note to pester him about what he was talking about later, but for now, lunch sounds good.

It’s Saturday, and you have the entire weekend off for once. You were looking forward to sleeping in, but Sebastian decided to make a racket, tugging your ankle from beneath the sheets.

“Seb, please.” you whine. “I just want to sleep.”

“But I have a house I want you to see,” Sebastian says impatiently.

You groan. “Seb, it’s Saturday. Can’t you see it without me?” you grumble.

Sebastian shakes his head insistently. “No, you have to come. You’ll want to, I promise.”

Sebastian is tapping his foot the entire time you dress; you opt for a simple blue day dress, scandalously forgoing your corset for comfort. Your messy hair is left down and wavy, tying up a bow at the crown to keep the unruly pieces from flying into your face. Your impatient boyfriend all but drags you to the fireplace as he mumbles out the name of your intended location, tucking you into his arms.

You open your eyes to bright sunlight. Blinking, you realize you’re no longer in London–in fact, you’re somewhere that looks awfully familiar from your school days.

“Where are we?” you breathe, taking in the fresh air. Tall grass sways in the wind around the two of you, and Sebastian is walking up towards a house, turning back with his hand outstretched. You take his hand, and he helps you hop over a small stream.

“Marunweem,” Sebastian yells over the wind, smiling back at you. “Plenty of real estate around here–they’ve rebranded it as an up and coming village.”

You recall memories of exploring Marunweem Lake with Sebastian in your school years; it had always been rather desolate, considering neither of you were licensed to apparate and the only path to the hamlet was through a goblin mine. But the two of you had always had the time of your lives traversing the southern coast. You can picture your younger selves in the air, zipping around on borrowed school brooms together.

“Ominis found the listing,” Sebastian continues, beckoning you forward. “The Ministry has done quite a bit to rehabilitate the area.” Sebastian guides you up the hill, unlatching a well worn gate. The stone cottage is teeming with ivy, crawling up the walls. The storybook tiles on the roof make the house look like it’s straight out of a muggle fairytale.

You take a deep breath as you wave your wand, unlocking the door. The wooden floors creak beneath your feet, but otherwise, the place is in good condition. The walls have been replastered, the fireplace cleaned and sparkling. The only furniture is an old looking settee and a bear skin rug (a tad gauche for your taste). You make your way through the living room to the kitchen. Its positively bathed in light, a large bay window over the sink looks over an enormous yard. You practically run up to the sink edge, admiring the view.

“So much light,” you gasp. “Seb, it’s perfect.”

“You are,” Sebastian suddenly appears behind you, pressing himself against your back. You can feel his breath tickling your ear as he wraps his arms around your body. “The perfect view to watch our children play in the yard, don’t you think?” he murmurs into your ear.

Your breath catches as he stretches out his hand, his palm flat against the lower plane of your stomach. He presses it; almost wishfully. Your heart flutters at the idea of growing his child inside of you.

The two of you haven’t gotten around to talking about children yet. You both were far too young to even think about parenthood when you first got together, and even when you broke up. You had talked about raising children with your former fiance, and it had always been part of the ten year plan. You explained that you had wanted to wait until you were older, more stable in your career. Eric had always found that answer unsatisfying, but now you knew the true reason for your hesitance.

You hadn’t been talking about parenthood with the right person.

“Children, you say?” The word sounds so foreign coming out of your mouth.

You can practically feel the way Sebastian’s cheeks burn. “Only if you want,” he shrugs, but you know he’s serious. The way he’s pressing his hand against your womb is very much serious.

You look back out into the yard, picturing toddlers with unruly brunette hair giggling and running about. You can even picture Sebastian chasing them, whirling them in the air as you prepare an afternoon tea. Building snowmen in the backyard, teaching them to fly on toy brooms. Growing old with Sebastian at your side, with the family you’ve built together.

It's sickeningly domestic, but it feels right.

“I would,” you whisper.

Sebastian wastes no time spinning you around, a big goofy grin on his face. “Really?” he asks, completely lighting up. He plants his hands firmly on your waist, fingers digging into your skin. His eyes flit down to your waist when he realizes you’re not wearing a corset, squeezing you through your dress.

You laugh, placing your hands on his chest. “Really.”

Sebastian pulls you away from the kitchen. “Good, because there are plenty of rooms in the house,” he announces, moving towards the stairs. “There’s three rooms on the second floor, and the master bedroom is here on the main.” he explains, tugging your arm to show you around the house. The bedrooms first; they’re decently sized, enough for twin beds and toys. The main bedroom has enough space for several wardrobes, which you’ll be needing for all your clothes. The bathroom has a giant clawfoot tub, and you can envision the two of you wrestling a toddler for a bath in it.

“I was thinking, we could use a spare bedroom as my office for now.” Sebastian says as you two walk back into the kitchen. He’s clearly been thinking about this a lot longer than you’d realized. “The baby will sleep in our room for the first couple of months–”

“The baby?” you raise your eyebrow. “For months?”

“Of course,” Sebastian huffs. “Jorkins sent me this article about babies, said it’s best for their brain and magic development to stay close to us–”

“Sebastian,” you choke out, “have you been telling your coworkers that you’d like to have a baby?”

Sebastian pauses, turning bright red. “Too much?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. His hair is slightly messy, a few pieces sticking up in the back. He usually did his hair quite tidy for work, but you loved when he left it undone on the weekends. It reminded you of him as a teenager; you’d always flatten down his cowlicks for him.

It’s your turn to blush. “No, I just–I just didn’t realize you were ready.”

“Pet, I’ll be ready when you’re ready. You'll be the one doing all the hard work anyways, the least I can do is a bit of research.” he says, grabbing your hands. He pulls your palm to his warm cheek. “I just want to prepare myself, that’s all. You know I don’t have my parents around to ask these questions, so I’ve been asking a few of the dads at the office how they’ve managed–”

Sebastian doesn’t have enough time to finish; you’ve properly launched yourself onto him, breathlessly kissing him. He’s mad, you think, to start preparing for your pregnancy before even presenting the idea to you. But at the same time, it's incredibly alluring. Sebastian already dotes on you, and the thought of him worshiping you as you grow a human is tempting.

In short, the idea of Sebastian as a father is sexy.

“I was hoping you’d react this way.” Sebastian says, a shit eating grin gracing his freckled face as he embraces you. You gasp as his hips roll against yours.

Sebastian is blatantly hard in the middle of an empty house. You can feel his erection digging into your hip, turned on by all the talk of you possibly getting pregnant. While you had been peeved that morning at him for dragging you out of bed, you’re thankful to have seen the house. And considering you’ll be purchasing the home with him, you think what’s about to happen next is excusable. The house had to be christened at some point.

(Perhaps Sebastian’s attitude is rubbing off on you.)

Sebastian’s eyes are burning into you as you start unbuttoning his jacket. He licks his lips excitedly as you shuck it to the ground, going slack jawed as you start working off his suspenders. Stepping back, you put your hands on your hips, cocking an eyebrow at the normally shameless man in front of you.

“Am I going to do all the work then?” you tease.

Sebastian wastes no time–he never does. He rushes forward towards you, pulling you in for a hot, searing kiss. You let out a wanton moan as his tongue starts tracing circles on your neck, tugging at the buttons of your dress. He all but tears it off, leaving wisps of blue fabric in his path of destruction.

“Can’t wait–need you now,” he wheezes, tugging your undergarments down. You can hear the buttons snapping as he tears off his shirt. You laugh, which turns into a gasp as his fingers circle against your core, dipping into your wet center. He’s nudging your legs apart, fingers writhing inside of you as he runs his tongue over your bare nipple.

“Sebastian!” you scold him, but you know it's in vain. He knows your every desire, the spots that make you shake, and your head lolls to the side as he kneels before you, pulling your legs apart further. His big brown eyes are looking up at you, pupils blown with pleasure as he places his mouth directly over your clit, sucking hard.

“So fucking beautiful,” Sebastian murmurs against your sex. “Mmph, I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

His fingers are pumping in and out of you, tongue flicking at your clit with desperation. Sebastian wants–no, he needs you to come on his face. You grab a fistful of his messy brown hair and the tugging only encourages him to press his face deeper against you. You can feel the way his fingers grip your bottom, palming them as he fucks you with his hand. Your knees buckle as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you, the lewd sound of Sebastian lapping at your soaking wet cunt filling the room.

“You dragged me out here to have your way with me,” you stutter between moans.

Sebastian pulls his face from you, smiling up at you. His devious look and the glistening slick on his chin is enough to make you fold right then and there. “And so what if I did?” he asks, voice low.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you trying to impregnate me right now?”

Sebastian licks his lips as he stands, unbuttoning his pants. You feel like prey as his eyes rove over your shaking, naked form. Stepping out of his pants and undergarments in one smooth move, you bite your bottom lip as you watch him pump his thick cock in his hand.

“I brought you here with the purest intentions,” Sebastian murmurs. Your back is pressed against the sink, and he turns you around roughly to face the yard again.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” you sigh.

He laughs, but his voice is raspy from pleasure. “I wanted to show you our future home,” he whispers. His length twitches against your back and you shiver. “But you look so beautiful–and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m going to take you on every single surface in this house.”

“Oh really?” you whimper.

Sebastian nods, pressing a kiss against your neck, guiding you to lean over the edge of the sink. He nudges your legs apart again, pressing the tip of his length against your bare arse.

“Really. When we properly move in, I’m going to make you fall apart in every room. Fill you with my seed over and over again until it takes.” he says through gritted teeth. His hand falls to your stomach again, pressing tightly.

Your breath catches as you feel the crown of his cock slip against your dripping core. You’ve never heard him speak like this before–Sebastian had been your first sexual experience, and because you’d broken up when you were still rather young, the two of you had been rather vanilla. The past few months have certainly pushed the boundaries, exposing you to new experiences with one another. There have been some discoveries, but the sound of desperation in his voice is revealing a new kink for Sebastian.

You’re certainly not complaining–the thought of him coming inside of you repeatedly with the full intention of seeing you swell with his child is doing something to you.

Sebastian bites into your shoulder as he slowly slips his length into you. You lean over the sink further, arms flying out to anything that will steady you as the brunette spears himself into you, slowly and intentionally. Sebastian palms your breasts with one hand, lurching over your back as he grinds his hips against your bottom.

“I want you to think about this moment, every time you’re standing over the sink.” Sebastian grunts, his other hand still pressed firmly against your belly. The cadence of his thrusts remain even and slow, entirely deliberate. “Want you to remember how good I fucked you here.”

You whine, arms reaching back to grip your lover’s hair. “ Fuck, Sebastian.”

Sebastian laughs breathily against your ear as he fucks into you. “So good for me, my beautiful girl. Fuck, I’ve thought about this for months,” he admits.

“About fucking me against a sink?” you joke.

“No,” you can practically envision him rolling his eyes. “Well, yes, that’s one of my fantasies. Mmph –specifically, about you, pregnant with my—our child.”

You let out an obscene sound. “You’ve been thinking about it for months?” The end of your question is punctuated with a sweet cry as Sebastian snaps his hips forward again.

“Since the moment we got back together,” Sebastian confesses. His arms tighten around you like a boa constrictor; you’re not sure how he’s still standing on two legs as he thrusts against you. You break free from his clutches to lean forward, standing on the tips of your toes. The move only makes him reach deeper within your cunt, both of you moaning in unison at the shift in angle.

“I’ve known–known since that moment it’s going to be you,” Sebastian pants. “ Fuck, I could do this all day. I could never have enough of you, pet.”

You whine, pushing back against him. Sebastian stumbles a few feet back, a shocked look on his face. Too much, the pleading eyes ask.

Not enough.

You surge towards him, a blue wisp as you push him to the ground (your ancient magic somehow padding the two of you as you land on the creaky floorboards). Sebastian’s eyes are wide open as you straddle him, placing kisses on his face.

“I want you to see me,” you whisper, straddling him and positioning yourself atop his cock. Sebastian lets out a throaty groan as you sink onto him, inch by inch, until you’re fully seated on his lap. You lean forward, pressing another kiss to his lips. “I want to look at you when you fill me.”

“Fuck, my love,” Sebastian whines. “You’re going to be so damn beautiful–gods, I can picture it now, watching you carry my baby,” he grits his teeth as you bounce up and down on his length. “I can’t wait to fuck you over and over again– ugh –until you’re properly full of me.” He starts pushing his hips up; you know how much he loves it when you’re on top of him, but he hates relinquishing control. He continues his loud praise, his voice cracking as he holds his hand lovingly over your stomach.

You can feel the coil of pleasure in your belly tighten, furrowing your eyebrows as your climax nears. Nearly there–almost–

You look down at Sebastian. You half expect him to have his eyes shut in pleasure, nose wrinkling as he focuses on his finish. Instead, you see adoring eyes roving up and down your body, a dreamy smile on his face. He looks proud, you think, as his thumbs ghost over your waist and stomach. The look of pure devotion on his face as you grind against him sets you off, wailing as you climax on top of him.

Sebastian wastes no time once you’ve lost control. He flips you over onto your back, his thrusts stuttering as he chases his own orgasm. Sebastian presses a searing kiss against your lips as you feel him spill inside of you. He bucks his hip against you a few times, gasping as he slumps against your body. He’s still inside of you, but you can feel the hot release dripping from your cunt.

Sebastian lifts his face, giving you a sheepish smile as he rests his chin on your breasts.

“Not exactly how I’d thought our Saturday would go, but I’m quite happy with it.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t lie. You’re such a scoundrel.”

Sebastian nuzzles his face into your breasts, still sheathed inside of you. “Oh, but I’m your scoundrel.” he smiles proudly, pressing his lips against your chest.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, until you clear your throat. “You really do want to have a baby with me?” you ask, your voice a tad timid.

Sebastian gives you an honest, pure smile. That was a quality you loved about him so much–he wore his emotions on his face, and you always knew when he was being truthful.

“I want to have a family with you, pet. I want us to have everything we’ve ever wanted, together.” he admits.

“Babies aren’t easy,” you warn him. “It’ll be a lot of work, a lot of sleepless nights.”

“I never asked for easy,” Sebastian reminds you. “I’ve only ever asked for you.”

“I’m not going to stop working.” You warn Sebastian, pulling a blanket up higher over your chest.

“I would never ask you to,” Sebastian stokes the fire before settling back down next to you.

It’s now late at night; the two of you have been at it all day. Starved, you let Sebastian leave the house to search for provisions. He ran down to the closest tavern, buying the two of you a feast to snack on throughout your impromptu stay. Meanwhile, you’d worked on the fire, conjuring some cushions and blankets from a small stash of moonstone you’d kept in your bag for emergencies.

It’s dark, the rural sky filled with twinkling stars. You’d missed the way the sky looked in the highlands, no city lights to pollute the view. The two of you are sitting naked in front of the fire, stuffing your faces with bread and cheese, washing it down with a local mead. Given your spirited activities throughout the day, you decide it’s time to be adults and talk logistics.

“Someone will need to watch the baby.” you remind him, passing a knife so he can slather some compote on the bread.

“We could ask Anne?” Sebastian suggests, taking a big bite. “I’m sure she’d love to. She always loved babysitting the children in Feldcroft when we were younger. She sure likes to pretend she raised me—y’know, on second thought, maybe not Anne then…”

“Do you think Ominis would mind? I think he’d be nervous around a child. Besides, there’s no way Anne would apparate here daily just to watch the baby.” You lean back on your elbows, biting back a smile. You never thought you’d be having this conversation with Sebastian, but it feels right; the most natural progression for your relationship.

“Well, I was planning on fixing up a floo connection in the fireplace.” Sebastian shrugs. “So we could get to work, and so Anne and Ominis can visit.”

“You really have thought of everything,” you say coyly. “Except to pack clothes for tonight.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t been planning on shagging you in broad daylight in the kitchen.” Sebastian snorts. “But I can’t keep my hands off you, pet.”

“I’m sure you’ll be singing a different tune when I’m the size of a graphorn.” you wrinkle your nose. Your hands ghost over your naked stomach, drawing circles over where a child may grow someday.

“Don’t say that,” Sebastian scolds. “You are going to be the most gorgeous mother. Merlin, I’m going to get hard just thinking about it again.” He sighs dramatically.

You roll your eyes, smacking his shoulder. Sebastian winks at you, a slight blush growing on his face. He pulls a cushion onto his lap, and you cannot believe the stamina on this man.

“At least let me finish my meal first,” you tease.

Sebastian rolls onto his stomach, playing with the tassels on the blanket. You resist the urge to slap his freckled bottom, instead trying to focus on the serious, adult conversation you were trying to have.

“So, we’re buying the house then.” You state, taking a bite of cheese.

“We’re buying the house.” Sebastian echoes. “When I saw the picture, I just knew. Remember how we used to race our brooms here? I couldn’t stop picturing us teaching our kids how to fly here, just like we did.”

You nod. “I always loved Marunweem.” It’s the perfect place to settle down, you think. Now it makes sense why none of the houses in London were quite right for the two of you. No light, no yard, no room to grow. Living in the highlands, you have fresh air, water nearby, and plenty of space for your future family. You haven’t flown on a broom in a long time; you can’t wait to see how long it’ll take you to get to Hogsmeade from here. With a floo connection in your fireplace, getting to work won’t be so bad.

Your hand absentmindedly flutters down to your stomach again. Everything will change with a baby in your life. You’ve just gotten back into the groove with Sebastian, are you sure you want to change everything now?

“What are you thinking, pet?” Sebastian murmurs.

You lick your lips. “That everything will change once we have a baby.” you admit. “Are we ready?”

Sebastian scoots towards you, his fingers catching under your chin. “I’m ready when you are.” he whispers. “If you don’t want this right now, I’m completely fine with that. You say the word, we’ll go to the apothecary tomorrow and get the necessary potions. I want you to want this for you, not just for me.”

Your sweet, thoughtful, loving boyfriend. Sebastian is the perfect gentleman. You nod your head shyly; who knows, it could take ages for you to get pregnant. You don’t want to start getting too far ahead of yourself.

“So, I’ll send an owl to the seller when we get back to London.” Sebastian says, tangling his fingers in yours. “We should start packing. We’re throwing away your bed, by the way.”

“Only if we throw away yours too.” You remind him.

Sebastian laughs. “Buying a new bed—duly noted.”

“Is that why you were saving your money?” you ask, looking into the fire. You remember the conversation the two of you had when you left the house tour last week. “For a house?”

Sebastian laughs again, this time sounding a bit shy himself. “Oh no, surprisingly, the house was dirt cheap. It was for something else.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What for?”

Sebastian is as naked as the day he was born, but he rolls onto his knees to rummage through his jacket, which has been long discarded on the floor. Your eyes widen as he pulls something small out of the inner pocket.

“Was going to ask after you agreed on the house, but we got side tracked.” Sebastian bites down on his lower lip, holding up the diamond ring. It sparkles in the light of the fireplace. “Will you marry me?”

You blink down at him, mouth slightly ajar.

“I know it’s probably not as big as your last ring,” Sebastian admits, the tips of his ears red. “But I saw it in the shop and it made me think of you. And I thought, why are we waiting? We’ve been apart for so long, and even though it’s really only been eight months, I know it’s you–it’s always been you–I know I want you to be my wife, I’ve always wanted to marry you–” he shakes his brown mane, rambling on. “If it’s too soon for you, I understand, I just want you to consider it; you don’t have to say yes right away—“

Your lips crash against his. It’s so utterly on brand for Sebastian; forgoing the tradition of bending down on one knee, he’s stark naked next to you, rolling on the floor with a diamond ring in hand.

“You arse, Sebastian Sallow.” you mumble against his lips.

Sebastian holds you tight; you can feel his closed fist on your back, holding the ring. “Can I be yours? For the rest of our lives?” he whispers.

You laugh, pulling away to brush away a tear. “Of course,” you say breathlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you, you silly man.”

Sebastian’s smile is beaming from ear to ear as he slips the diamond ring onto your finger. You slide back against his chest, holding your hand out to admire it. He’s done well–a sparkling diamond set in gold. The feeling is so unlike your previous engagement; then, you’d wanted to hide it from everyone, but now you simply can’t wait to shout from the rooftops that you’re the future Mrs. Sallow.

You’d marry him tomorrow if possible, you think. As his hand brushes against your stomach, you think you might have to soon. The thought doesn’t bother you; it’s been blatantly obvious who you belong to since you saved him eight months ago.

“What a day it’s been,” Sebastian sighs, nuzzling your neck. “Bought a house, got engaged. I can’t wait to tell Anne and Ominis; they’ll kill me when I tell them how I did it.” he chuckles.

“We’ll tell them first thing tomorrow,” you announce, curling up in his arms. “I just want to remember this, just the two of us.”

“Hopefully not for long,” Sebastian whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Sebastian is babbling about his renovation plans for the house, things he wants to tweak and change to make it just right for the two of you. You watch the fire crackle in front of you, nodding absentmindedly. This is the first memory in your new home, you think. You’ll raise your children in this house, celebrate birthdays and holidays in front of this old fireplace. And one day, you’ll tell your children that you got engaged here. A far more appropriate version of the story of course, when they’re older and able to understand.

Mum and Dad got engaged at home. It sounds right.

#sebastian sallow #writing-intheundercroft #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #auror sebastian sallow #dad sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #I have no words for the state of mind I was in when I wrote this

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 1 year

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jealousy, jealousy || Masterlist || SKZ x reader || Completed Series

Masterlist for my jealousy themed Stray Kids x Reader series! All of these are set in a college AU and feature the member or the reader being jealous. I do advise reading the tags and warnings on each fic to make sure you're comfortable with everything that's in them! Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated~

Ao3 collection

(The names for the fics are the ones I used on Ao3 but they're a bit long for Tumblr titles, so that's why they're not on here)

all i see are girls too good to be true || I.N x Reader

Genre: Jealous!Reader, make-up artist!Reader, model!Jeongin (only partly for both of these), fluff with a little angst, idiots to lovers. Rated T.

i think i think too much || Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Jealous!Seungmin, established relationship, fluff, suggestive but no smut. Rated M.

rather be anyone else || Felix x Reader

Genre: Jealous!Felix, eventual friends to lovers, maxident trailer!Felix, bad boy!Felix, good girl!Reader, angst maybe. Rated T.

i'm so sick of myself || Han x Reader

Genre: Jealous!Reader, eventual friends to lovers but also idiots to lovers, fluff and some angst. Rated T (or the softest M rating ever)

comparison is killing me slowly || Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Jealous!Hyunjin, established relationship, hurt/comfort, some angst, smut in the last part. Rated E. Same couple as you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad (which is a strong E rating)

wanna be you so bad || Changbin x Reader

Genre: Academic Rivals to Lovers, jealous!reader but also a little bit of jealous!changbin, 3racha member!Changbin, light angst. Rated T.

kinda wanna throw my phone across the room || Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers, Tooth-rotting fluff, Coffee shop!AU, barista!Lee know, jealous!Lee Know. Rated T.

all your friends are so cool, you go out every night || Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Friends With Benefits, Smut, jealous!Chan. Rated E.

#jeongin x reader #i.n. x reader #seungmin x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #lee know x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz x reader

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

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In one of my fandoms, my favorite ship is A/B. They're not the most popular ship or anything, but A/B was the most popular ship for both characters A and B. But for a long while now, A/C is becoming more and more popular, and I'm finding much less new fic for A/B. I'm not into A/C at all. How do i deal with watching my favorite ship become less popular? I wouldn't see this as a problem if A/B had always been a small ship for A and B, but they used to be the most popular for them, and now I look around and everyone loves A/C except for me! I'm still stuck on A/B and idk what i can do

First of all, you're not alone anon ❤️ Not in your current fandom and certainly not in fandom as a whole. Sometimes a ship just sticks with you, and no matter what canon or fandom do to change direction on your, you're still sailing those same seas.

I know it's probably cold comfort in this moment, but having fewer fics written doesn't mean the ship is worse or that no one likes it at all. It just means that the other ship is (at least for now) more popular. It's getting more attention at the moment, and that sucks, but hold onto the fact that popularity does not equal quality. Over time, things could very well even out again.

If seeing the A/C fics is upsetting for you right now, then I recommend blocking the tag. Similar to how I recommend authors hide fic stats, blocking a tag that is currently upsetting you is a good way to get some relief from it while still using AO3. You can always unblock it again in the future if you ever decide you want to see it again.

One last thing you can do is reach out to some of the authors you loved who wrote A/B and see if any of them are accepting prompts. A lot of authors will put that out there via tumblr or other social media accounts, and when they do you could always submit a prompt and ask for an A/B fic to fill it.

If you have the energy, you could also organize an A/B fic event, like a holiday collection or a big bang or a fic swap etc. If anyone wants to share suggestions for events and how to organize them, please do so in the notes!

You're not the only one out there who ships A/B anon. Even if some folks have moved on to A/C, there are still going to be a fair number who have some love for A/B still in their hearts. I promise.

#asks and answers

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taintandviolent · 11 months

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I held my nose I closed my eyes - I took a drink; Jimmy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a hypnotist. Jimmy, in one of his drunken nights, cleans out his own supply and stumbles into your caravan to clean you out too. What he finds... is sooo much better. [warnings: 18+! sex pollen fic!! shameless, explicit smut, I'm so serious. female receiving, oral sex, rough sex, mentions of alcohol.]

Also! Hugely inspired by @silverzoomies' mindbogglingly good Quicksilver sex pollen fic - the queen of sex pollen as far as I'm concerned!! Please read it if you haven't!!

taglist: @kaismanwich / @elsamars / @thewolveswithin / @petersevans / @marylovesevanpeters / @80strashbag / @redwoodghost / @silverzoomies / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @evansb1tch / @yesdevineruler / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @evanpetersfansblog / @kaissweetlamb / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @my-own-walker/ @viharmonscorner / @nova-kayne67 / ask to be added!

ao3 link here! | full fic under the cut!

The calliope breathed its melodic tune as your fingers curled back towards your palm. The man in front of you was glassy-eyed and pliable.

“Bark!” You snapped your fingers.

Almost immediately, the man let out a string of excited woofs, much to the delight of the audience. Laughs and scattered applause filled the tent, the loudest of laughs coming from the front row — from his presumed wife.

“Ladies and gentlemen! While I am using hypnotism for your pleasure and amusement today, I implore you… to consider that hypnotism can be used for good. It can be used to cure sicknesses of addiction, turn the fearful into the brave… or perhaps make someone fall in love with you.”

The man swayed languidly back and forth, following your graceful fingers as they swept through air. You brought the man’s attention to you with one finger, whispering soft words of release. You snapped your fingers for a final time and the man came to, dropped back into his own reality in a mess of confusion and wobbly knees. Unbeknownst to you, this regular Joe wasn’t the only man unsteady on his feet. A dozen or so yards away, the beloved Lobster Boy was drunkenly stumbling into your trailer, looking for some more booze to drown his woes.

As he stood in front of your cabinet, he surveyed the collection. Dried herbs, crystals, some of those cards that he’d seen the travelling gypsies use… and a ton of bottles. Scanning until he found something that most resembled some liquor — though everything was questionable — Jimmy palmed the one of the two largest bottles, lifting it to the light to get a better look. The dark liquid sloshed heavily around inside, and while he knew he was drunk, he could’ve sworn it sparkled.

Flipping the cork out with his thumb, Jimmy pinched his nose, squeezed his eyes shut and threw the contents of the bottle into the back of his throat, having enough to sense to avoid whatever taste was going to meet him. Whatever it was went down smoothly, leaving a syrupy, sweet coating on his throat. A line of deep burgundy trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue flicked out to catch it.

“Hooo,” he grimaced and shuddered hard enough to lose his grip on the bottle. It clattered to the floor loudly. “That’s rough.”

His throat felt warm, but the feeling started in his thighs, of all places. Underneath his dusty black jeans, the muscles felt like he’d gone and pressed them against a bed of coals. It was hot in Jupiter, not that hot — but Jimmy Darling felt like he had the fever of the century. Sweat beaded at his hairline, running salty ribbons down his temples.

And then, he felt it. Concealed in his cotton briefs, heat rushed to his groin at breakneck speed. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for his cock to stand at attention as though he’d been working it up all night. His jeans tented and the pressure wasn’t very forgiving. No, it was downright painful. The blood switched heads and he could think of nothing else but you. Jimmy wanted to be inside you, feeling your weeping cunt clench with each thrust. He wanted to lick his fingers clean of your — “Come on!”

Jimmy drew the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping at the sweat. As the seconds ticked by, his body temperature continued to climb. He knew he had to do something before he actually became a lobster, bright red and steaming. With one hand, Jimmy unbuckled his pants and yanked the button free of its slit. The small give in restriction allowed his stiff cock to breathe, but Jimmy pulled the elastic of his briefs under his balls, wincing at the static electric feeling that physical touch brought.

His cock sprung free, bouncing heavily. It looked full, and pre-cum was already leaking out the velvet soft tip. He couldn’t describe it mentally any other way — needs emptyin’.

You had graciously taken one more participant before making your way back to your caravan, pulling your high heels off as soon as you were out of the tent. You padded softly across the grass, humming some disjointed melody. The tips had been good tonight, and you’d been looking forward to the iced tea in your tiny little fridge all day. "…Gotta’ hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone and made a walkin’-talkin’ honeycomb.”

Stepping onto the wood crates that served as doorsteps, you pulled the door towards you, still singing quietly.

“…well uh honeycomb, wontcha’ be my baby, well uh honeycomb wontcha’ be my own — ”

With your index finger still curled around the handle of the screen door, your body froze, voice leaving your throat. Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed. Not just that — Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed, caramel locks plastered to his forehead with sweat. His pants were undone in his lap, and his fused fingers were glistening with his own cum. You’d only looked at it for a split second before you clamped your hand over your eyes, but it wasn’t soon enough to stop the visual searing its way into your brain. The way the swollen, red tip slid through his conjoined fingers as he clumsily tried to jerk himself off…

At the sound of the door, Jimmy immediately started crawling towards you, muttering desperate words of gratitude. Like a hound on the scent of a rabbit, his nose had clocked the earthy sweetness of your perfume oil the second you’d walked in. He needed to get closer to it and to you. There was another smell — a sweeter one — that he licked off his lips as he made a beeline for you.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby….” He growled low, words separated by hiccups. “I’m real glad you’re here. I messed up… uhhuuummmm - real bad.”

On his knees in front of you, Jimmy wrapped his hands around your legs, claws stroking the backs of your knees. Paired with the fact that he’d never called you baby, the contrast of his warm, strong hands against your delicate legs gripped your core, setting the first trap of arousal. A moment later, his lips collided with your shins, feverishly peppering kisses along them as he worked his way up.You closed your eyes, exhaling hard through your nose.

His head dove under your skirt and you let out a shrill yelp.

“J-Jimmy Darling! Stop, stop!” You wrenched your leg from his grip, his slick fingers gliding off your calf muscle as you hastily stepped around him. “What in the hell has gotten into you!?”

He fell forward onto his hands, letting out a sound you’d never heard a man make. His dick hung heavy between his legs and thick strands of pre-cum swelled from the tip, stringing to the floor with every slight movement of his hips. His lust just wouldn’t stop yelling, drowning out every other rational thought he had. It was as loud as when Elsa brought her megaphone to the stage, shouting orders at the top of her lungs -- louder maybe. Jimmy reached for his aching cock to give it a few desperate pumps, tightening his grip as he drew towards the base. The sensation crippled him, bringing him forward onto his face. …so damn sensitive…. I need her…..

He’d always been able to satisfy himself, even as drunk as he was now; after every meeting with the Girls, when some gal in the crowd got a little too flirty — he’d never had an issue taking himself in his pincers and rubbing one out. But this… this wasn’t enough and he was damn tired.

Every cell in your body was begging you to keep staring at the way he handled himself, alternating between stroking the thick shaft, and doing quick, smaller thrusts to stimulate the ruby tip. Jimmy groaned into the vinyl floor of your trailer as he decorated it with strings of white.

Did he just cum…?

Underneath your skirt, your cunt fluttered with a bloom of heat.

Although it had been difficult to walk away, you somehow managed and stopped just short of your kitchen counter, which had been converted into a short shelf. All of your tonics, amulets and tools of your craft were neatly arranged there. Were. They were…. Previously. The empty space in your cabinet was suddenly very apparent.

Suddenly noticing that you had left — or maybe he smelled that you had left, Jimmy’s lids peeled away from each other. He turned his head just enough to stare up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The curve of your ass underneath your skirt made his dick twitch upwards, reaching for relief. With his cheek smashed against the vinyl flooring, Jimmy’s words were distorted behind you. “Aaah— you’re sucha’…. dream Dolly, you know that?”

You closed your eyes, kicking your foot to the side. It collided with something, with an unmistakable tink! just like you’d predicted it would. Sucking in another deep breath, you dropped your gaze to your feet. A very empty amber bottle had been tossed haphazardly to the floor.

You heard him shuffling to his feet behind you, catching himself on whatever surface was near enough for him to grip. Through ragged pants, he continued. “I’ve always thought that — ever since you got here, the very first day…. Laid eyes on you and thought ‘Hot damn! We’ve got a sex-pot headlining.’ Youkn—”

“Jimmy…?” you asked, warningly. Planting both of your hands firmly on the counter, you pacified your mind, lassoing it in from the field of panic-stricken thoughts. “Tell me you didn’t drink this whole thing….”

Instead of dispelling your fears, a broad chest pressed against your back and two arms wound themselves around the front of your hips. Jimmy’s body felt like a furnace against yours, and the sudden pressure between your ass cheeks had you clawing the laminate countertop like a feral animal.

He’s still hard as a rock…

He was sweaty and smelled like sun and liquor; a smell that you’d become very attracted to in the few weeks you’d been here. Every time he passed by, you’d inhale, filling your lungs with it. He kissed the nape of your neck like he’d just got home from work, missing you all day.

“How many times have you orgasmed?” You didn’t want to know the answer.

“Mmm, only uh’ couple times…. I’m sss-sorry baby…” he slurred, pressing his face into your hair, loudly inhaling the scent of it. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so close to your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. “You aren’t mad at me, are ya?”

His little mistake wasn’t about having too much of his Mama’s hooch in that little flask she carried around. Well, maybe that too… You’d got those potions from a lady in New Orleans in 1946 and she’d warned you about the dosage… “a silver teaspoon, nothin’ more, you understand?” She said it came straight from Marie Laveau and wasn’t to be trifled with. Jimmy Darling had consumed a whole bottle and now, his swollen cock was dribbling into the cotton fabric of your skirt.

“No,” you breathed shakily, reaching up to press your middle finger to the bridge of your nose. “I’m not… but you’re in for a real storm, Jimmy Darling. It’s — was— love potion, you know that?”

“Love potion, huh? Didn’t think that was real.” He questioned lazily how to fix it, more interested in his hands sliding up your stomach, manoeuvring until they’d found skin.

“You have to do what you were put on Earth to do. That basic instinct — and I sure I wish I could tell you once would be enough. But Jimmy,” you paused, inhaling sharply. “The dose for a man of your size is a teaspoon.”

“A man of my size…” Woozy chuckles vibrated your shoulders. “Seems like you’re the gal to see — you know an awful lot about it.”

Frustrated, you cocked your hip to the side, doing your best to sort out the thoughts. You knew the only solution was to fuck it out of his system, but you hadn’t really thought you’d be ending your night with him. Jimmy let out a loud moan, bucking his hips further in between your legs. You felt the heat of it, searing through the thin fabric. He bucked again and rolled his forehead along your shoulders, whining.

“Hooo…. you can’t move like that, baby. I’ll flip.”

You whimpered his name as you lifted your eyes to the ceiling, cursing whatever deities were looking down on you, waiting on bated breath for your next move. You’d waited a long time for something like this. So long in fact, that you had almost turned to waving your enchanting fingers in front of his face, like one of the ticket-holders, hypnotising him to look at you for longer than a few minutes. Instead, his mercurial alcoholism had planted him right in front of you. Well, behind you.

With his hips still rutting into you, grinding incessantly, he murmured into your ear: “I’m sorry I’m actin’ this way… but you haveta’ help me, baby…. Help me, please… I’m gonna’ lose my mind if I do—“

“I know, Jimmy.”

As you walked your legs out to the sides, you hoisted the back of your skirt above your ass. Watching intently, he backed his hips up allowing you room to reach between your legs and search for him. Your fingertips grazed the base, just above his balls. With a final prayer that Jimmy Darling wouldn’t forget about you as soon as the potion had run its course in his body, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, already slick with a generous coating of pre-cum, and guided him in between your thighs.

Jimmy’s hands were suddenly at your hips, taking fistfuls of your skirt and shoving it up towards the small of your back. With a grunt, he wound one of his claws around the hem of your satin underwear, wiggling it down from one side. He thrust his hips forward and the hot tip slipped past your entrance, grinding into your clit from the underside.

Jimmy’s low, honey voice was reduced to high pitched whimpers and broken whines. Your insides pulsed with a hungry need…

“Hoh-god…”

“No,” you spat. “This isn’t right, not like this. Jimmy, I really —“

He didn’t let you finish. Conjoined fingers gripped your biceps hard, spinning you around so fast, the intent was blurry. For a minute, his face was contorted, frustrated and the way his chest heaved wound a nervous coil in your stomach.

Instead of striking you, or whatever you thought he was going to do, Jimmy crushed his lips against you, desperate for any sort of erotic contact. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them, while his thumb flicked at your nipples over the fabric. “I gotta’ have you, honey…”

You pursed your lips, tightening them into a thin line. In one fluid, frustrated motion, you pulled your shirt over your head. You unclasped your bra, holding his gaze and barked: “Then, take me.”

He forced his tongue into your mouth. You remembered the time you’d bit into a honeycomb as a child. As sweet as you thought it would be, and as sweet as it was, there was something very overwhelming about it. There was a word for it — cloying. As he explored your mouth, Jimmy tasted bitter, and cloyingly sweet… and god, was he drooling? There was so much spit that you had to swallow a mouthful just to avoid choking. His tongue wrestled with yours, teeth biting at your lips until they were red and swollen.

Your lids snapped open and you felt your pupils dilate. A warm, sweet heat rose from the base of your throat, filling your mouth. There were hints of honey, and spices, and underneath a very bitter fruitiness.

Oh… oh no.

He didn’t know what was going on inside of you, but he revelled in the way you started moaning and whimpering into his mouth, grinding your cunt against his groin. Jimmy’s hands dropped to grip the soft, pillowy flesh of your hips, his thumb pressing into the softness. “Fuck baby, your body… you can’t see these hips under that skirt you wear all the time.”

“This ain’t enough,” he cooed, pushing you towards your small sofa-bed with kisses. “I need to fill you up, Y/N….”

You were more than willing to let him guide you to the bed; though you knew the majority of your disposition was due to you already having a big, silly crush on him. Jimmy lowered himself down, one knee at a time, keeping his eyes locked on the table laid in front of him.

Hastily, Jimmy pulled your skirt to the floor, kicking it behind him. He made quick work of your underwear too — though those didn’t join the pile of clothes. He lifted those, the satin fabric dangling from one of his thickened fingers, swaying back and forth. You did your best to avoid looking at the wet spot you’d left in the crotch of them, though Jimmy seemed to have locked onto that and only that.

“Pink, huh?”

You chewed your bottom lip bashfully. “I’m not all crystal balls and veils, Jimmy…”

At those words, his eyes flashed to your cunt, pupils dilating. He chucked your underwear over his shoulder, refocusing his attention onto you. Jimmy spread your pussy with his knuckles, exposing the pink, glistening flesh. His laboured breaths slowed as he focused, watching every clench and twitch. “Baby, baby, baby….”

He was just staring at it. Your cunt ached as he teased it with feather-light touches.

“Can I?”

You moaned, asking for clarification. Not that you needed it — he could do whatever he wanted to you and he wouldn’t hear a peep of protest from you. You were a mess, like butter in his claws.

“Can I eat it, baby? I’m hungry… I’m a growin’ boy…”

It took a lot of effort to lift your head to look at him. You were swimmy; everything felt rose-tinted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, wetting your throat. “Yeah, Jimmy, but I think if you grow any more… we’ll have a problem.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, pausing to look at himself. It was true; his cock had never been this hard, and the tip was such a deep red that it was heading to plum.

With one segment buried deep inside your slick cunt and the other curled back towards his palm, Jimmy leaned in. His plush lips pressed tenderly against her, tongue slipping out to taste her in between kisses. You strained against his grip, writhing like a worm on a hook.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, finally pulling away from her. His chin was glistening — you almost wanted to apologise for the mess you’d made. He didn't seem to mind though, as he reached up, wiping at his chin with his hand. The way his thick, fleshy segments looked coated in your wetness, the way they caught the dull, yellow lighting of your trailer — it was enough to make you cum right then and there. You collapsed back on the bed in a mess of whimpers and Jimmy took that opportunity to dive back in.

He caved his tongue to envelop your clit, the vibrations of his moans sending a shockwave through your core. Before he started pumping his fingers in and out, Jimmy Darling did something that could’ve sent you into another dimension; he just sucked at your clit, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive spot he could.

He slurped at your cunt like an ice cream cone, one that was melting faster than he could catch — but he did a damn good job of getting every drop. He was loud and sloppy. He’s so hungry for it…

Your body trembled violently as you came, grinding against his mouth as long as you could before he backed up, dipping his head further in between your legs so he could feel the clench of your orgasm around his tongue.

He straightened up with a satisfied ‘Mmm’, jerking his head to the side with a smile. “Sweet as candy, baby…”

Crossing his arms over his torso, Jimmy pulled his white undershirt up and over his shoulders before tossing it behind him. Ribbons of sweat streamed down the tanned skin, leaving glittering lines across his chest.

“Jimmy,” you whined. “Hand me the other bottle.”

He obeyed, reaching behind him for it. His big hand closed around the cool, brown glass, and brought the cork to his mouth. His teeth clamped down and yanked it free. A small whiff of the potion inside made his eyes roll back, but he quickly regained control, looking down at you with a devilish little smirk. He knew exactly what you’d planned to do. He took one generous gulp, swallowed, and said:

“Open up, toots.”

You obeyed, and Jimmy Darling poured the love potion — too, too much of it down your throat. You coughed, sputtering some of it onto the pillow of your bottom lip, and he lapped it up.

The devil worked fast, but hoodoo potions worked faster.

Sweat beaded up from every pore, coating your body in an aroused sheen. You’d felt like you’d been sunbathing all afternoon, with no lake or pool in sight. You felt like your cunt was on fire. It had a heartbeat as strong as the one encased in your ribs. You had one thing on your mind — and that thing was stroking himself as he watched the change in you.

“Ohhhh, shit….” He took a deep breath, inhaling the pheromones that had abruptly filled the tiny space. You smelled them too, and the adrenaline dump made your muscles quiver. Jimmy’s dark brown eyes were wild as they locked onto your eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “Oh, now we’re cookin’.”

You jerked forward. You needed him, you needed every bit of him and the idea of teasing him drove you wild. You raked your nails along his heated stomach, tracing a line of hair the colour of brown sugar, following it down to a bush of the same shade. With your bottom lip swelling between your teeth, you planted both hands on his torso and dropped your head between your shoulders to tease him with your breath. You exhaled over the reddened tip, watching in delight as it twitched closer to you. Your lips ghosted over it, suctioning around just the tip. You swallowed, and opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue flop onto the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…FUCK!”

Jimmy came undone, clenching his teeth as he bucked his hips against your mouth. Up and down, your head bobbed, stroking his cock with your mouth. Your cheeks caved as you hungrily swallowed the ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat.

That didn’t last long. With a strong hand, he guided you back, pushing you back onto the bed. You felt the mattress shift to Jimmy’s weight as he climbed behind you.

“C’mere, baby… lay this way.”

He guided you into a horizontal positioning, curling his body behind yours. His chest pressed against your back, warm and slick with sweat. His soft lips scattered kisses along the nape of your neck, down your shoulder.

Jimmy gripped your leg at the thigh, holding it straight. His cock was rock hard, and a thick, clear glob of pre-cum welled from the slit on his head as he lined up to your swollen, aching pussy. Your jaws ache at the sight of it, wanting to smear it over your lips like a gloss.

“You wanna’….” He inhaled a shaky breath. “You wanna’ feel the motion of the ocean, baby?”

You squeaked out a ‘yeah’. After nuzzling his nose behind your ear, The Lobster Boy jerked his hips so hard that the stretch of your cunt had you wincing and grinding your teeth together. But god, that feels so good… He sunk in, bottoming out almost right away — but the rhythm that boy had…. He was fast. He was fast, and he whined every time your cunt had swallowed half, shuddering the rest of it in. Every few thrusts, Jimmy would bunny-hump you with his cock deep inside, revelling in the way your cunt hugged his girth — squeezed it, even.

You, on the other hand, were feeling like your body was going to burst into flames at any moment. Your pussy had hardly had any time to recover, but you screamed out another orgasm, pulsating around The Lobster Boy.

He pulled out quickly, his ink-pool eyes glittering with a new position. With his dick secured in his hand, Jimmy got to his feet, stepping carefully off onto the floor. He let go to snatch you at the waist and wrench you harshly to the edge of the bed.

“Go, Jimmy…”

He pulled you forward slowly, dipping his chin to his chest to watch as your walls clenched around him. Your pussy was blush-red and swollen; a visual he’d treasure for the rest of his life. Once the tip of his head stretched past your entrance, Jimmy yanked your hips back against his. Hard. The sound your cheeks made when they slapped against his stomach drove him wild, and whatever apprehensions he had about hurting you went out the window.

Through unhesitating thrusts, he asked: “Doesit’ feel good, baby?”

You could only nod, seeing the ceiling of your trailer vibrate each time your bodies connected. The trailer has to be moving — he’s shaking the trailer, oh god.

“Say my name again.”

“Ji-Jimmy… oh my god, Jimmy!”

You were two orgasms in, and he was pounding a third out of you. The muscles in your legs were quivering, and losing strength quickly. Your vision was overexposed and twinkly, tears stained your cheeks.

“Jimmy - wait - wait, it’s too—“

You whimpered desperately, your fingers dropping away from your overstimulated clit. Jimmy straightened up, one hand moved to your shoulder, leaving the other still clamped on your hip. Your shrill screams were loud enough to break the barrier of your trailer, but when he tightened his grip on your shoulder to use it as leverage, you didn’t care.

He was fucking you deeper and harder than you’d ever been fucked, and maybe than he’d ever fucked. Blinded by ecstasy, he couldn’t hear a word. Every carnal instinct he had kicked into full-drive, galloping towards the finish line of pumping you full of his seed.

You turned your head, screaming into the mattress as your pussy shuddered one final time, leaking the wettest orgasm you’d ever had onto his cock. She clenched around his tip like a vice, and the sensation drove Jimmy to the edge.

The knot inside Jimmy unravelled all at once. He let out a deafening groan, spilling his pent-up load into you. Gush after gush flowed into you, and you could feel the hot fluid leaking from your cunt, splashing onto your thighs with each determined thrust he gave.

Eventually, his thrusts became spasmodic, shakily slowing to a stop. He collapsed atop you, and reached between your bodies, to tug his softening cock out of you, humming at the sensation.

“Y’know… I really do have the hots for you, baby…. I haven’t slept with a single girl since you waltzed in.”

He exhaled hard. “I gotta’ sleep, doll. I gotta.”

By the time you sat up and slipped your arms into a robe that was draped over a chair, Jimmy was already asleep. The way he curled up on your too-small bed, naked, one hand hanging off the side was easily one of the cutest things you’d seen since drifting to Jupiter. You wouldn’t know until he woke up, but if he was telling the truth…. You’d spend every last day worshipping the ground he walked on.

A delicate rapping pulled your attention from Jimmy, who had already started breathing deep in his sleep. Delicately, you pulled a blanket of yours over his bottom half, not wanting whoever was at the door to see him in all his glory.

You made your way to the door in no particular hurry, still floating Cloud Nine. Eventually, you toed open the door and leaned sleepily against the doorframe. The robe barely covered your chest, but at the sight of the visitor, all worries left.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Maggie asked, her tone of perpetual annoyance making you smile. “I needed t—

“I have,” you cooed. “I sure have.”

Like the nosy bitch you knew she was, she poked her head in. It didn’t take her long to find him, and hear his soft snoring.

“Oh, drop dead twice,” she muttered, retreating.

You stopped, an amused smirk twisting your lips. So, she had wanted him. Clocked that one. “What, and look like you?”

Her wide eyes narrowed into slits, lips pursed indignantly. With a toss of her dirty blonde hair, she marched off towards the tent, fists clenched at your sides.

You might’ve felt bad for the poor wretch if Jimmy Darling’s cum wasn’t dripping down your thigh. Might’ve.

#tryin' something new with the headers... there aren't enough jimmy gifs and I need something better to match the vibe of my fics lmao #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #ahs smut #american horror story smut #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #ahs freak show #American Horror Story Freak Show #Evan Peters #myfics

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