#i struggled with this one a lot more than i expected but i hope its okay 🥲💕 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teenytinyjimin · 13 hours

Text

snow day (k. seokjin)

summary: being snowed in isn't always the most fun, but when you're stuck with the love of your life, there's very little you can complain about.

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fluff, romance, winter fic, lots of cuddles (it's cold, what else are you meant to do?), chef!seokjin (as expected), teasing (in the lighthearted and romantic way), kisses!!!!! lots of kisses!!!!!

warnings: none! enjoy some sweet fluff!

author’s note: hey guys!! finals are this week (bleh) and then i’ll be on vacation two-ish weeks from now so i won’t be posting a lot i’m afraid :( i’ll plan to have another fic out by tuesday next week and then i probably won’t post again for a week or two after that. hope yall enjoy what i make in the meantime but im sorry it won’t be a lot :(

anyway, this is dedicated to @kskskskskskskskss i hope you enjoy my love <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

There was no doubt that winter was your favorite season. Despite the gloom it tended to cast across your cozy town tucked into middle-of-nowhere Korea, it was always wintertime when its true beauty shone. The glimmering streetlights making the snow look like glitter falling from the sky was one of the most beautiful sights, especially on days when the sun was struggling to peek through the clouds and left the town dim.

Alas, the beauty of the snow on this particular day didn't take away the fact that it was completely snowing you in, to the point where you were afraid that opening the front door would cause a mountain of white powder to fall into the entryway of your warm abode. Actually, you were more than willing to leave the house and go enjoy the beauty of winter, it was just your boyfriend, who is too overprotective for his own good, who persuaded you into not leaving and just enjoying it from the comfort of your own home.

So here you were, peacefully obliging to your darling Seokjin's wishes to stay inside. If you were to choose between the snow outside and the love of your life, it would be him a million times over again. So at the cost of not making snow angels, you were instead sprawled across the couch, cuddled into a cozy blanket with your eyes shut as you listened to the sounds of him cooking in the kitchen. You weren't quite sure what he was making, but you knew it had to be good because nothing he ever made was anything less than perfect.

The only other thing you could have wished for in this very moment was to be in front of a crackling fireplace – that would have made this snow day beyond extraordinary. But alas the heat radiating from the furnaces spread out throughout the house would have to be good enough for now. Wishful thinking, you thought. Maybe one day we can live in a nice little home with a beautiful fireplace.

"Alright, you ready for some absolutely incredible kimchi jjigae?!" Jin called from the kitchen, his voice enthusiastic and bright. Mm. Kimchi jjigae. Your mouth was practically watering just at the thought of the delicious stew. However, your body wasn't as enthused at the thought of having to move from the comfort of the couch.

You let out a groan. "Mmh, can't move," You sighed in frustration, pulling the blanket over your head so that you could bury yourself into an even deeper state of comfort. This was followed by silence except for the sound of a few dishes clinking, before you heard a pair of footsteps come your way. "Come, dear, you need to eat,” Seokjin said softly, nudging you with a gentle hand. You refused to pull the blanket down from your face and remained silent, causing your partner to let out a deep sigh. "Alright, I'll just eat it all myself. More for me."

The last sentence set you off as you let out a desperate and breathy whine. You wanted to eat, you did, but that involved sacrificing the state of bliss you were currently in. Silence ensued yet again for a couple of minutes, to the point where you couldn't even hear your own breathing, before you were suddenly lifted off of the couch, blanket and all, and into Jin's arms. Letting out a squeal, you pulled the blanket down from your face to look up at him, his beautiful features a mere couple inches from your own as he now had you lifted up in bridal style.

Rather than wrapping your arms around his neck for support, you decided to drape yourself over him like a limp doll, causing the silliest of smiles to creep onto his face. "You know, I can carry you to the kitchen with no problem like this, but I'm not going to feed you like a baby. Even though you're cute like one." Ignoring his words, you let out a deep sigh, inhaling the scents that flooded the house. "It smells amazing in here. If I were to die right now, I'd be completely happy."

As you arrived at the kitchen, Jin pulled out one of the dining chairs with his leg and propped you onto it, giving you a soft kiss on your nose before bringing you a bowl of jjigae. "Please don't do that. I need you to clean the dishes." Letting out a gasp, you glared at your boyfriend, who appeared to be pretty proud of his last statement. "Excuse me? Is that all you take me for?" You asked, feigning offense. As he pulled the chair next to you out and sat himself in it, he grinned and shrugged. "Well, you're also a good girlfriend."

"With that attitude, you might as well call the couch your bed for tonight. And you'll be doing the dishes." As you went to go scoop up your first bite of jjigae, you were stopped by a swift hand that took the bowl away from you. You let out a shocked noise as you looked over to Jin, who had absolutely no intention of giving you the food back. "Looks like I was right about there being more for me," He said, beginning to playfully spoon at your bowl.

"Hey! No, I'm sorry," You tried to bargain with him, even going as far as to give him puppy eyes. When it came to food, you did not mess around, and you were ready to take everything you said back if it meant that you'd still be able to eat. As you watched him take a spoonful of your portion into his mouth, you let out a pleading whine. He looked over at you with confusion, pretending that he didn't hear a word you said. "Huh?" He asked. "Sorry, did you say something? I was enjoying my jjigae."

"Give me my bowl back," You insisted, no longer playing around. If this went on any longer, you'd be declaring war. Smug look on his face, he pretended to innocently tilt his head. "I'm going to need something in return…” He said, his voice trailing off towards the end as he continued to spoon at your jjigae. You knew exactly what he was asking for and unfortunately there was no way that you were going to get that food back unless you gave it to him.

Letting out a soft sigh, you reached over to caress his cheek and guide his face towards yours before planting a soft kiss to his lips. And then another. But just as you were about to pull away and kindly ask for your food back he grabbed your face and pulled you in again for a gazillion more kisses. Squealing between each one, you attempted to playfully push him away but he just kept going, kissing your lips, and then your forehead, and then your cheek, and then back to your lips again, all the while a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks.

“J… Jin! The jjigae will get cold!” You finally got out, successfully pushing him away. He let out a defeated (and quite sad) sigh as he pushed your bowl back to you and returned to his own. “I could’ve reheated it…” He muttered, but you shushed him with a firm squeeze to his knee from under the table as you both began to dig in to the delicious meal.

Following the initial playful moment that you two shared during your meal, the food was nothing short of amazing and you both thoroughly enjoyed your dinner ‘date’. After every couple of bites you never failed to compliment Seokjin on his incredible cooking, each and every time resulting in a shy giggle erupting from his throat. He never knew what to say when you complimented him – although his confidence was never bad, hearing such high words of praise coming from the love of his life never failed to make him timid and unable to react. It was the fact that he saw you as absolutely perfect that made him unable to comprehend how you could feel the same about him, because hearing such kind and honest words come from someone he’s head over heels for is like hearing the sweetest song in the world.

After you took the time to clean up the dishes your chef used to create such a fantastic meal, you found yourselves flopped down onto the couch. With two bodies plus the blanket that was previously covering you before dinner, it was simply impossible to see which limb belonged to whom because you were tangled up with one another. The only thing that mattered to you, though, was that you felt safe, loved, and extremely cozy.

"I don't think I'll be moving anytime soon," You huffed out, head on your boyfriend's chest. "I can hardly breathe with the amount of food in my stomach right now." Letting out a satisfied hum, Jin brought a hand to your head as he gently brushed through your hair with his fingers. You felt him move slightly as he turned to look out the window and you did the same, admiring the snow that continued to fall outside. "It really is pretty," You commented, taking a deep breath as you not only tried to make yourself feel slightly more comfortable but also took in your lover's scent. "Never as pretty as you." Jin hummed without skipping a beat. "Plus it's cold. You're warm. Warm is always better."

"Are you telling me you'd rather be warm than cold?" You asked. In your mind, being too warm was a lot more unbearable than being too cold. As you felt Jin wrap his arms around you and give you a tight squeeze, he sighed. "No no, being cold is better. Because that means I can warm up by cuddling with you. The best cuddler there ever was." You let out a soft giggle as you buried your face deeper into his chest and he tightened the grip he had on you. It didn't feel too tight or restrictive in any way, shape, or form – being so tightly wrapped in his arms felt more comforting than anything else in the world.

"Thank you for spending the day with me," You mumbled into his shirt as you felt his lips gently kiss the top of your head. "There's nothing else I'd rather do, my love."

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts jin #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #fanfic #fluff

20 notes · View notes

vivi-ships · 2 months

Text

🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊

💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜🐊💜

Rogelio x Kyle

For: @hoolay-boobs

#i struggled with this one a lot more than i expected but i hope its okay 🥲💕#repkyle #kyle she ra #rogelio she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #she ra spop #spop #she ra moodboard #gay moodboard #mlm moodboard #repkyle moodboard #vi takes requests #vi's moodboard

7 notes · View notes

ellemj · 3 months

Text

Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.

Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.

Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.

He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.

If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.

________________

“Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.

“I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.

“Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.

“Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.

“Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.

“But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.

______

The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.

You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.

Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.

“What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.

“What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”

“Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.

“And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.

“I’m not a tease.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.

“I’m not.”

Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.

“Good girls don’t lie.”

______

To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.

Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.

He was fucked.

Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.

His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.

“You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.

“Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.

“You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.

“You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.

“Bucky—”

“No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”

You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.

“That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.

You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.

“Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”

When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.

“You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.

“Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.

“You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”

Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.

“Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”

You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.

“Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.

“That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.

“That was a fucking dream.” He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.

“Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.

“Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.

“It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.

“Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.

“I didn’t know—”

“Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.

Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.

His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.

He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”

“Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.

“Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.

Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.

Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.

“Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.

As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

Obsession.

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @horny-and-dead-inside @buggy14 @wildernessflora @suz7days @am-3-thyst @hnnhbananananana @starwars378 @cjand10 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @hereticdance @phoenixstark1708 @djj1999 @aira1995 @vici111 @thejakelockly @armystay89 @starsm00n @openup-yourmind @gabshouse @bubblevicioussss

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

2K notes · View notes

vivmaek · 6 months

Text

MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning.

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken.

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them.

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great.

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They’re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution.

2K notes · View notes

freelancearsonist · 2 months

Text

Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to.

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs.

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt.

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome.

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less.

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us one shot #joel tlou #cece writes

771 notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 9 months

Text

Masterlist 1

- Disclaimer! All of these have happy endings, I am not one for sad endings lol

- More works on Masterlist 2 which you can find the link to on the pinned post on my blog

Lando Norris:

Reckless Driving

When McLaren thinks its funny to put Y/n in a sports-car with her boyfriend and a set of question cards. Spoiler Alert: She doesn’t!

The Infamous Stream

When Max streams and the chat goes wild for Lando and Y/n’s sappy love.

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You Pt. 2

What if love isn’t enough? What if the obstacles are too great and all the whirlwind romance ends up being is the right person, but wrong time?

Call Your Mom

Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

London Boy

In which she falls in love with a London boy as an American girl.

Flowers

After the Silverstone Grand Prix, Y/n wants to do something nice for her successful boyfriend, but she quickly finds out her kind gesture means a lot more to him than what she expected.

Caught

When living with their best friends proves to be the worst decision Lando and Y/n ever made.

Used Pt. 2

A bet can do more harm than good.

She Doesn’t Know Who I Am Pt. 2

Lando’s in New York and no one knows who he is. Especially the girl who asks for his number.

Enemies To Lovers, Ya Know?

They’ve always hated each other. Always. Right?

Gentle

In which Y/n’s past is a little haunted, but Lando knows exactly how to make her understand that she is safe with him.

Spa

When a reality check causes Y/n to worry about him coming home to her every day for the rest of their lives.

Try On! (Smut Warning)

She thought his opinion on some new lingerie would be good. Spoiler alert, it was good. Really good.

The Softest Launch

He tried to be a secret, but the eyes never lie.

It’s the High Altitude. (Smut Warning)

They’ve missed each other. What can they say?

The Video Pt. 2

Y/n and Lando’s club dancing sends the F1 world into a frenzy.

Lando’s Biggest Fangirl Pt. 2 Pt. 3

His girlfriend. Lando’s biggest fangirl is his girlfriend.

I’m Sorry To Go

She’s not quite ready to have him leave just yet.

What Are You Doing Up?

She can’t go to sleep when he isn’t there.

I Can’t Go a Second Without You

She was gone for five hours, but apparently that’s too long in Lando’s book.

Happy Birthday

It’s his favorite person’s birthday.

Don’t Wake Up Yet (Smut Warning)

When Lando gets home from a race weekend without his girlfriend, he just can’t wait.

Lacy Pt. 2 (Oscar Ending) Pt. 2 (Lando Ending)

To the song “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo, that should be enough summarized.

I Love Your Body

It was the mirrors.

Boyfriend Lando

Where the chat goes crazy for Boyfriend Lando.

Longing Glances and Whispered Confessions Pt. 2

In which, in the darkness of the night, Lando Norris loves Y/n Fewtrell, only for the pain of their secrecy to plague them in the daylight.

Oscar Piastri:

*I also have another Oscar imagine under the Lando section. It is titled Lacy and has an Oscar ending, something you will see if you look at it. It is the second part to an imagine focused on reader loving Lando when he loves someone else. The Oscar ending was incredibly popular and one of my favorites to write! Hope you stumble across this and find that Lacy (Oscar’s Ending)*

Let Me Love You

A friendship where the lines are incredibly blurred is risky, but it’s even more risky to fall in love with a girl who won’t let anyone in romantically.

Caught

Y/n’s and Oscar’s fun in his room takes a surprising, awkward turn very quickly.

- The Vacation (Smut Warning)

They just keep getting caught. (Could be read as a Caught Part 2 or a standalone)

This Is About Oscar?! Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Y/n’s new song exposes a side of Oscar no one knew about.

I’ll Be The Fred To Your Daphne

He’ll always be the Fred to her Daphne, the peanut butter to her pb and j, and the salt to her pepper.

Best Friends To Benefits To Lovers

They’ve been dating for months after being the closest of friends for years. The question is, however, did they start out as best friends with benefits?

The Quiet Night and the Loud Morning (Smut Warning)

It was bound to happen at some point.

Hurt Me Once Pt. 2

In which they just miss the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

She Wears The Pants, Right?

Nobody saw it coming. Nobody.

Let Me Help

She’s got a math test the next day and unfortunately, she can’t do math. However, her boyfriend can.

Loving You in the Shadows Pt. 2

They’ve been together for years. Well, they haven’t been together for years. Yet.

Cover It Up

That one piece of clothing was covering so much and Oscar just had to take it off.

She’s Missed You

In which Nicole and Chris welcome Oscar’s longtime girlfriend to live with them after he leaves, only to not tell him and have to update him when he shows up for a surprise visit.

Charles Leclerc:

Edits

When Carlos exposes Y/n watching edits of her boyfriend on Instagram. She’s incredibly embarrassed, but after an interesting conversation with the man himself, should she really be?

2K notes · View notes

speakergame · 2 months

Text

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes:

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now.

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing.

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it)

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

#speaker game #progress update #so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD #maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog

441 notes · View notes

lennadanvers · 3 months

Text

Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did)

I wrote this for ao3 originally. I'm working on the final part, so I thought I'd start reposting here in the meantime. I hope someone likes it. I feed on comments btw. Just leaving that there.

Ghost’d had missions go badly before… No, scratch that. He had been part of missions that had gone terribly. Some he had barely survived. A lot had failed. That just happens.

Still, he felt like shit.

He was familiar with the feeling. He didn’t understand it, though. Everyone in his team had made it out alive. Even more than that, there had been only a couple minor injuries. That was a luxury he had learned to appreciate. Yes, the target they were supposed to find and bring back to base was laying, dead, on the floor of the helicopter. It wasn’t an especially gruesome sight, either. One shot at the back, most of the blood was still wet on the floor of the enemy base. Ghost had seen people practically turned inside out; this was almost as pleasant at it could get.

He had been dragging the target. The target, because they didn’t have a name. They never did. It had been a person. A very well informed person, if he had to guess, based on the urgency to get them back. Now they were a corpse. They had made the transition in his arms. He hadn’t even realized the target had bled out until they were already flying back.

Price wasn’t going to be happy, but he knew how the job was. Casualties were expected. At least the target wasn’t in anybody else’s hands.

Ghost looked down at his own. His gloves were dirty. If he flexed his fingers, he’d feel the stickiness of the blood. He knew the feeling well enough to be certain that the burning of the cold water of the sink wouldn’t erase it.

The movement of the helicopter landing made him look up. He jumped over the body of the target and stepped out. The sun didn’t touch his skin, completely covered in military grade fabric. But he felt it nonetheless.

His eyes, used to scanning his surroundings, had found you standing at the edge of the helipad. You were right next to the medics, ready to help save the corpse he had dragged here. Suddenly, Ghost became aware of every little sore and tense spot in his body. He had always thought you were capable. Your hands were smaller than his, more delicate- everyone’s were- but still ruthless and unwavering. He took a deep breath and wondered how long it would take you to get rid of all the knots in his back.

Your neck looked pretty, too. No, not pretty. He almost shook his head. Inviting. Warm. Your blood was close to the surface there, but still hidden. Where it belonged. He tore his gloves off, struggling with the stickiness.

Ghost didn’t cry. It wasn’t a matter of pride, or toughness. He had simply forgotten how to. But he started to walk towards you and felt the heat flooding his throat. The closer he got, the smaller you looked and the more pathetic he felt. His boots dragged him across the cement; yours were steady, still. Clean. He was covered in dirt. Another step and he was almost at arms reach. His uniform was itchy. He hadn’t noticed that since he was a rookie. And his holsters were tight, Ghost made sure of that.

Would you hold him tighter?

Would you be warm? Warmer than the target? You’d feel alive.

You’d smell of your shampoo- he had grown used to its fragrance in the showers: it lingered and overpowered his unscented one, even if you had left hours ago. It reminded him of warm, cleansing water. Of the feeling of being bare.

He shook his head. The mask was getting uncomfortable. Your skin looked so soft, though. He blinked. Your collarbone against his lashes. The idea made him inhale deeply.

Another step and he was next to you. You smiled at him; not a big smile, rather a small, confused one. Ghost stared at you for a second, the tears stabbing his throat. All he could do, head ducking as if aiming to hide in your neck, was to shake his head.

Then another step and he kept walking to his barracks: back still tense, nose still burning with the smell of gunpowder, hands itching with dry blood.

Part 2

#cod #fanfiction #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #ao3 #hug #simon needs a hug #poor gigantic military man is touch deprived #and emotionally constipated

449 notes · View notes

shadebloopnik · 1 month

Text

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

#this may have gotten away from me lmao #this was supposed to be a rlly short prompt of 'Unrequited love but overbrimming friendship' but instead i typed out this word vomit-#i don't know if im labeling things right here??? this may not look platonic tk others but ig im sort of projecting here #bc i want friendships like this soo badd. i mean this is still platonic right??? this is normal friendship behavior like come onnn #I've been teased about being ace bc of this mindset but i always just go RIGHT this is how friendship works y'all blind😭😭😭#bloopnik writing #bloopnik rambles #radioapple #appleradio #platonic radioapple #platonic relationships #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #duckiedeer #unrequited feelings #BUT NOT UNREQUITED LOVE HELL YEA #one sided radiostatic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND ITS BEAUTIFUL #queerplatonic #i think #fic #fanfic #radiosilence

356 notes · View notes

grims-sunshine · 6 months

Text

🤍 Where I'm supposed to be 🤍

Summary: Tav (aka the reader) is taking care of Astarion after defeating Cazador.

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Astarion x Tav/Reader

Tags: Hurt / comfort; I think this is called reverse comfort? (When the reader comforts the character); lots of mentions of blood; Not 100% canon compliant but it's just minor details/ me not wanting to simply retell what happens in the game

A heavy silence falls over the crypt as Astarion sinks to his knees. You almost preferred it when he was still screaming. The current silence feels like a dark presence stretching over you, making it difficult to breathe.

You can sense that your other companions are just as uneasy as you are. Karlach uneasily fumbles with the handle of her weapon and Gale is biting his lip while staring at the gory scene in front of you with Astarion as its main actor.

They're clearly struggling to decide what to do now. So are you.

Your first instinct is to hug Astarion, to fuss over him and make sure he isn't injured, but you're not sure he wants to be touched right now. However, just standing there watching him doesn't feel right either.

"Astarion?" You finally ask, taking a small step towards him, carefully stretching out your hand like you're talking to a wild animal. He doesn't react. His eyes are fixated on the dead body of his former master in front of him, almost like he's waiting for Cazador to jump up and start mocking him again. Like the moment he looks away, Cazador will return back to life and continue to attack.

You follow his stare, seeing the multiple stab wounds and the puddle of blood he's lying in. No, that bastard is dead.

You kneel down next to Astarion, placing a hand on his shoulder. If he noticed you at all, he isn't showing it. You look at him, trying to make out any immediate signs of injuries. He doesn't appear to be hurt, but you do notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip and the way his eyes swell up with tears. You gently pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. Astarion doesn't resist, letting his head sink into your chest.

He's completely still for a few moments, then the previous silence is broken by a series of loud sobs. Astarion's hands grasp the back of your shirt, fists balling together like he's scared you'll disappear. He trembles in your arms and you pull him even closer. You run a hand through Astarion's hair in an attempt to soothe him, even if just a little bit. It's sticky with blood, but you hardly notice that.

"It's okay, love. He won't hurt you anymore," you whisper in his ear, your other hand gently stroking his back. He only sobs louder in response, but it seems to help him breathe a little more evenly.

You're interrupted by the other spawn approaching. They still appear in just as much shock as Astarion, eyeing the corpse of their former master like they, too, can't believe he's really gone yet.

"Well… What now?" One of them eventually asks, all of them turning to Astarion like they expect guidance from him now.

You look over to your companions, hoping one of them might step in to redirect the spawn. But before any of them can say something, Astarion loosens his grip of you, getting up with his back straightened.

He's still sniffling a little, but already looks far more composed than before. Or, at least he tries to look composed.

Perhaps he even manages to convince everyone else that he's really okay. However, you can't help but notice the slight tremble in his legs as he walks over to pick up Cazador's staff, and the way he's fighting to keep his voice steady while talking to the others.

You've spent enough time around him, observing his mannerisms, to know when he's putting on a show. As much as he tries to appear alright, in truth he's far from being okay.

As Astarion's siblings leave, his eyes trail after them, staring off into the distance even after they're long gone. You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to break him out of his trance. "Astarion, are you alr-" He cuts you off.

“Let’s just go home. I've had enough of this place," he says without turning around, just loud enough for you to hear.

You only nod in response and Astarion starts walking, the rest of your party following close behind.

Nobody says a word on your way back to Elfsong Tavern. Yet, you grow increasingly worried for Astarion. He looks like he's barely holding himself together, while pushing his emotions as far down as possible. You can only hope he'll open up to you later, rather than trying to pretend the events of tonight never happened.

The moment you reach Elfsong Tavern, Astarion drags himself upstairs to the floor you rented, straight to his bed where he sits down, staring at the wall. You contemplate whether it would be best to leave him alone with his thoughts for the time being, or whether you should try talking to him.

Eventually you decide to just sit down next to him, quietly reaching for his hand. "Just so you know," you start, "you don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. But I'm here for you."

Astarion nods in response, ever so slightly squeezing your hand.

You don't know how much time passes like this, but Astarion eventually breaks the silence, almost startling you with how suddenly he starts speaking.

“Do you think I made the right decision back there?” His voice doesn't have its usual smoothness to it as he speaks. Instead, it sounds sore and raspy. He just sounds tired.

“Yes.” You say it wholeheartedly, not even having to think before you respond. Astarion made the right decision - Of that you’re sure. “You’ve proven you’re better than Cazador. You didn't cause others to suffer for your own benefit. You made sure he'll never hurt anyone again. I’m absolutely certain you made the right decision.”

Astarion hums, nodding slowly as if he's contemplating your words. “At least one of us is sure, then. I really hope you’re correct.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not so certain I did the right thing. But maybe I should trust your judgment while I can't think straight."

You squeeze his hand tightly, and he gives a weak squeeze back. “Give it a while for everything to settle down,” you suggest, gently. “Once you’ve had some time to work through all this, I’m sure you’ll see things have worked out for the better.” He just grunts in response, letting his head sink against your shoulder. You sit like that in silence for a while, and you can tell he’s on the brink of falling asleep.

“Hey, how about we get all this blood off you and go to sleep?” You suggest, running a hand through his hair. Astarion just nods, allowing you to pull him along and lead him towards the small bathtub in the bathroom.

You run some warm water and grab a sponge while Astarion sits in the tub. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't let you take care of him like this, but tonight he doesn’t protest as you run the sponge over his skin, making sure to wash off the blood still sticking to his skin. He even closes his eyes for a while, completely giving himself into the care of your gentle touch as you run the water over his head in an attempt to get the blood splatters out of his hair.

Once you're sure you've gotten rid of all the blood, you bring Astarion a towel, wrapping it around him.

He sits there and watches as you grab a second towel, using it to dry his hair.

As you're about to put the towel away, you suddenly find Astarion's arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close enough for him to rest his head against your torso.

You freeze in place, only moving enough to drop the towel and run your hand through Astarion's still damp hair. Just by his expression you can tell he needs to be close to you right now, and you have no intention of denying him that comfort.

After a while of being together like this in silence, you gently nudge Astarion. "Let's get you to bed, alright? It'll be much more comfortable there."

Astarion seems reluctant to let go of you, finally agrees to it after you promise not to leave his side for the night (not that you would've done so either way).

As he climbs into bed, you lie down next to him, pulling him into your arms. Astarion seems happy to rest his head on your chest. He seems almost peaceful like this, listening to your heartbeat while you run a hand across his back with gentle strokes.

"Thank you. For taking care of me… And for stopping me from probably making a big mistake. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once," Astarion mumbles, sounding like he's on the edge of falling asleep.

You run a hand through his still damp hair. "Don't mention it. You would've done the same for me." You press a kiss to his forehead, catching a glimpse of the slightest smile curling Astarion's lips. "And I hope you know you can always rely on me."

Astarion nods, hugging you a little tighter. "Yes. And I'm grateful for that, too."

Soon after, the only thing you hear is Astarion's soft breaths as he drifts off to sleep. You can only hope the next day will be a little brighter for him. But if not, he still has you to rely on.

Thank you for reading 🤍

Title was inspired by this

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin

688 notes · View notes

leclerced · 4 months

Note

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

#ask #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #op81 #op81 smut #🫀anon

454 notes · View notes

merchelsea · 7 months

Text

took care of my girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles gf) reader

summary: after a lifechanging turn in your plans, you need to sort things out with charles to be able to get together with your true love, max. things can't always get so hard, can they?

author's note: the so required part two is FINALLY out. a massive thank you to every one that asked for this, i hope you enjoy it! (a HUGE thank you to @stupidandunnecessary for helping me outt)

word count: +1,6k

previous part

last night, charles and you exchanged less than ten words. you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to start, nor how to do it without hurting him.

it was clear that his feelings were not love, maybe some attraction and friendship, but not love. still, you didn't want to hurt him.

you loved max, but you were in a relationship with charles. you weren't quite sure if he would understand, and even if he did, things were a lot more complicated since you were three public figures.

charles woke up to find you, very dizzy and confused, staring at the ceiling of the room in silence. he regained his sences before you thought of moving, and he soon started talking.

"you love him." he stated, looking over at you. startled, you turned to look at him, taken aback by his smiling face. "I- what?" you asked him.

"max. you love him." with that smile planted on his lips, you struggled to articulate something to tell the him. your well-prepared speech for this very moment seemed to vanish, and your words failed you.

"I'm sorry." it was the only thing you could say after having your mouth half-opened for seconds.

"what are you sorry for? loving someone? that is not your fault." he reassured you. "I'm not angry, if that's why your apologizing. I'm happy for you." you couldn't quite comprehend what he was trying to tell you, and he noticed it by the puzzled glances you shot at him.

"I'm happy for you both. I know I've never been a top contestant to the 'best boyfriend' award, quite the contrary. but I also know we both started this relationship out of loneliness." he claimed. it was evident that you weren't the only one preparing for this moment.

"I'm still sorry." you persisted. he chuckled, but you never even gave him a trace of a smile. you couldn't.

"you don't have to be. you deserved to be happy. to be loved in the same intensity that you love someone. that is something only verstappen can do." leclerc understood this situation a whole lot more than you expected him to, and you were starting to wonder if he might have a female max in his life.

"its a fact, even tho it pains me to admit. I could never make you happy the way he does." he added.

"you deserve that too. I know this probably means nothing to you right now, but it's true." you smiled sadly to him, and he shook his head in disagreemeant.

"it will never mean nothing to me. apart from everything, you were my friend first, and I would hate for that to end." you smiled softly at him, the sadness now less evident. you two stood silent for a while, just breathing and thinking. "look, I'm sorry for not being the boyfriend you deserved." he appologized, breaking the akward smile.

he was ready to continue, and he would have done so if you hadn't interrupted. "it's not entirely your fault. we didn't work out because we didn't love each other. period." charles too was sad about how your realtionship was ending, but he was also grateful that none of you had to get hurt before it happened.

"now, I think we are both mature enough to recognize that and begin another chapter." you continued. he nodded softly and you both stood quite looking at the ceiling.

"y/n, you should really go get him. I still have a headache to deal with but I'll try to pack everything and leave before you return home." he advised with a warm smile. he rose from the bed, moving around it to bend over and kiss your forehead.

"you deserve this, mon chéri." he whispered as he exited the room to confront his weary reflection in the bathroom mirror.

after changing, you left the bedroom with the intention of grabbing a bite to eat. however, you decided that sharing a meal with Max might be better, so you sent him a text. within seconds, he responded, as if he had been awaiting your message his whole life.

the truth is, max could deny all he wanted, but he panicked when he got home and realized charles would be sleeping in the same bed as you, and probably trying to get you back. although he now knew that you loved him, it didn't change the fact that you had been with charles while still harboring those feelings, and that thought terrified him.

that's why he left his hotel without even hesitating and met you at a coffee shop near your house.

"how did he react?" he was clearly trying to avoid the subject, and noticing it, you respected his decision and never brought it up. but he has his limits, and he clearly crossed those. he needed to know, and if you were being real, you needed to tell him as well.

"better than I expected." you replied with a smile, which wasn't what he had anticipated. he couldn't decipher whether your smile meant "we broke up" or "we got back together."

"better how?" he asked, not so sure now that he wanted to know.

verstappen didn't think of himself as an anxious person, but when it came to you, he struggled to conceal his apprehension. He yearned to know every detail, and he might have even fainted if you hadn't filled him in.

"well, he told me to come and get you." you were finding that whole situation a lot more funny than you should, max acting all calm when it was so clear that he was freaking out could be ranked on top of the most entertaining things in the world.

he let out a heavy breath that he was holding for god knows why and you finally could see the beautiful smile he was hiding behind the seriousness.

"really?" he asked, smile still playing on his lips. you nodded, smiling too. anyone who passed by would think you two were a couple on the best stage of your relationship, smiles so wide that everyone could see were genuine.

"well you already have me, so…" max points with a joking tone, every word coming out of his mouth being the most truthful. "why do i always want to kiss you in situations or places where i can't?" he throws his head back, frustrated.

"oh why can't you kiss me now?" you asked. cofusion and also frustration kicking in when you realize its not going to be today as well. you begun to think max might be actually afraid to kiss you.

"there's people here. and i know it's a discreet place, but still…" you almost grasped what the dutch meant, were it not for your intense desire for his lips to meet yours. "what? I don't care about the people, you know I don't."

it's true, he knows you never cared about people's opinions. that's why, from the both of you, he was always the one that helped you with everything you thought of putting out to the world. most of it not coming out thanks to him.

"you may not, but I do. you know how this things work and I don't want my gi- your name associated with sleeping around for a seat."

your smile didn't fail on showing up. he could have just said the most horrific thing ever, you hadn't listened. max verstappen calling you 'my girl' was something out of this world for you. you covered your face with your hands as the gleam in your eyes intensified.

"but, you know, you could always take me home." he added, grinning with both his lips and eyes. "let me finish this and we'll go right away." max nodded and took his phone out, pretending to be composed on the outside while feeling like an exuberant child within. he eventually even snapped a few pictures of you to keep for himself and immediately changed his locked screen. he's not familiar with the concept of going slow.

exiting the coffee shop, you and max laughed like a pair of joyful fools, unable to recall precisely what was so amusing. at some point, you found yourselves laughing at each other for no apparent reason. what you both knew for certain was that spending time together was effortless—it brought a profound sense of peace.

as you closed the door behind you, max took your hand and pulled you close to him. his free hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing it. "after all these years, I can finally kiss you."

the smile on the red bull driver's face emphasized his happiness. although your smile wasn't as broad, your eyes spoke volumes.

in the end, his focus remained on your eyes. for three years, max had gazed into those same brown eyes, yet each time felt like he could continue indefinitely. and, indeed, he could.

from his prespective, it was the greatest view one could have. and he was genuinely sorry for everyone that would never get the chance to do so.

when he finally let go of your eyes, he foccused on your lips, not as mesmerizing, but equally breathtaking.

before he kissed you, you got a good look at his deep ocean blue eyes. had you not been studying them since the day you met their owner, you might have easily lost yourself in their beauty.

you almost cursed max for closing them, but if that meant you got to study his lips too, you could never complain.

once he guided you into the kiss, one of your hands instinctively traveled to the back of his neck, while the other one squeezed his, trying to be sure that this was really happening.

it became evident that your lips were made solely for each other—the way they fit perfectly, moved in harmony, and how max's lips embraced yours as if he had been doing it for a lifetime. every element aligned to create perfection—this is what love felt like.

with max, it felt right. with max, it was love.

taglist: @mehrmonga @yourusername1 @lexiecamposv @electrobutterfly @miakatharinaa @jeconnaismeslimitesus

#max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #formula one #f1 2023 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #took care of your girl #max #verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 masterlist #f1 imagine #reader driver #mercedes driver

639 notes · View notes

kaciidubs · 4 months

Note

i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)

Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻

kaci my favourite writer 🥰

(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)

This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~ ❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣ ❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~

While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.

"Mm, jesus, fuck-"

"Mingi, be quiet."

You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.

You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.

Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."

Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.

A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.

"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."

You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.

Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."

His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.

Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.

The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.

Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.

With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.

Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.

The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.

Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"

"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.

"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.

Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Wait- You knew?!"

"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."

Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.

"Are you happy?"

You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."

Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."

Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #i don't quite know how to tag this since it's not fully skz #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez smut #song mingi fluff #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member

272 notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 30 days

Note

Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack take Wired’s Most Searched for Questions interview

How does it go?

Sephiroth

Is Sephiroth evil?

Sephiroth: Not yet.

Is Sephiroth gay?

*Sephiroth stares blankly at the camera with his mouth parted open*

Is Sephiroth left-handed?

Sephiroth: I'm ambidextrous, though I prefer using my left hand to write, eat and maneuver a sword.

Is Sephiroth part cat?

Sephiroth: Perhaps I would be happier if I were.

Why is Sephiroth shirtless?

Sephiroth: An excellent question.

Why is Sephiroth so attractive?

Sephiroth: I seem to have inherited my looks from my mother. She was very beautiful.

Where are Sephiroth's parents?

Sephiroth: Ah. I've tried looking this question up. It's ineffective and provides no answers.

Why does Sephiroth hate Genesis?

Sephiroth: That's absurd. I like Genesis very much. He's my best friend. He's a special person to me. If I were asked who my vest friend is, I would have to say Genesis.

Who is Sephiroth's best friend?

Sephiroth: Angeal! He's very dear to me. We have a good relationship and there is no one in the world who I like more than him.

Why does Sephiroth like pasta?

Sephiroth: I feel complete and whole when I eat it. I assume that's what being loved feels like.

Why is Sephiroth's hair long?

Sephiroth: Because it's not short.

Genesis

How old is Genesis?

Genesis: How dare you insinuate that I'm old.

Is Genesis gay?

Genesis: Hm. About 50%, sometimes it's 75%. It depends on the day and my mood.

Is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis, through gritted teeth. I am.

Why does Genesis like red?

Genesis: It's the most vibrant, eye-catching, attractive color of the rainbow. Like me.

Why does Genesis dye his hair red?

Genesis: Lies and falsehoods.

Why is Genesis obsessed with Loveless?

Genesis: And I'm expected to answer with one sentence? I need an hour at least to accurately describe how much it means to me.

Why is Genesis called Genesis?

Genesis: I'm sure Dr. Hollander was trying to be poetic.

Why is Genesis annoying?

Genesis: WHAT?

Why is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis: WHY DO YOU MEAN "WHY?"

Why does Genesis say his hair is red when it's brown?

Genesis: THAT'S IT. I'M LEAVING. SCREW THIS.

Angeal

Is Angeal related to Zack?

Angeal: Not blood related, but he's like my little brother. Don't tell him I said that though. He'll cry and hug me and then I'll be covered in Zack snot.

Is Angeal dating Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Simultaneously?? Dating one would be a nightmare on its own.

Why is Angeal so attractive?

*Angeal stares up at the camera blankly, blushing profusely*

Is Angeal single?

Angeal: Uhh...yeah.

Does Angeal have a girlfriend?

Angeal: No, I don't.

Why is Angeal single?

Angeal: Who's writing these? My mom??

Is Angeal dead?

Angeal: Only on the inside.

Is Angeal stronger than Sephiroth?

Angeal: I'm not sure. I can sit on him and he starts flailing and struggling though. That's very funny.

Is Angeal older than Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Believe it or not, I'm the middle child.

Does Angeal kill plants?

Angeal, tearing up: I—...No? Once...It was a sunflower. There's barely any sun in Midgard.... I learned that the hard way.

Zack

Is Zack alive?

Zack: Yeah I am! *finger guns*

Is Zack stronger than Sephiroth?

Zack: Not yet.

Why is Zack popular?

Zack: Uhhh.... because I'm a nice guy? At least I hope I am! I like to make friends, so maybe that's why.

Why is Zack called a puppy?

Zack: Because Angeal thought he was funny when he compared me to a puppy, so now the nickname stuck. I don't mind though! Although it'd be cool if I had a badass nickname like wolf. Or snake!

Why does Zack do squats?

Zack: Because it's fun! Plus, it's a great exercise. It strengthens your core and leg muscles. .....I also have a lot of energy and don't like being still for too long. It stresses me out.

Why is Zack so adorable?

Zack: Aww! Am I? That's just my natural charm.

Does Zack have ADHD?

Zack: The TV in my room is HD, yeah.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core

175 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 9 months

Text

Your Body is Not a Graveyard

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been over a year since Frank and you decided to expand your family, but all you've managed to give him is more loss. Struggling with grief and depression, you've tried your best to hide your pain from him, but one afternoon, Frank stumbles on you mid-panic attack.

Warnings: 18+; miscarriage, pregnancy struggles, panic attacks, depression, grief, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, but I promise there's hope at the end

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: So I have written a lot of Matthew Murdock content, but this is my first ever Frank Castle fic and my first ever one shot (but I could be persuaded for a possible sequel). Honestly, I wrote this for the Frank comfort because I've been struggling through some things and needed it myself so expect soft Frank. I am also working on a Frank series that will be coming soon. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tagging @danzer8705 since you asked!

For a long while you stood there, the faucet running as the warm water gradually grew hotter over your hands. You barely felt the temperature difference, though. Nor had you noticed that the soap had long since been rinsed from them. You were too focused on your eyes and the blank way they were staring back at you through the bathroom mirror.

Because at first you’d felt numb.

That bit of bright red noticeable on the toilet paper before you'd flushed had caught your eye. Part of you had expected it. It was, after all, about that time of the month. Again. At the very least, your body was nothing if not predictable. Which was why you hadn’t exactly been surprised to see the telltale crimson of your period beginning.

You’d gone through the motions after. Grabbed a tampon out from under the bathroom sink and finished your business before you'd washed your hands, yet all the while it felt like you’d somehow disconnected from your body. As if the hands inserting your tampon and flushing the toilet, the same ones pulling your underwear and jeans back up before turning on the bathroom faucet and lathering the soap along them, were suddenly not yours. You didn’t recognize them.

And that face in the mirror, the one staring unblinkingly and so sullenly back at you, was unfamiliar, too. When had the bags under your eyes become so prominent? When had your eyes themselves grown so dull?

But the longer you stared, the blurrier that face in the mirror became.

And that’s when you felt it.

At first it was small–just the stinging of tears in your eyes. The all too familiar prickle began to build before you felt the first few large, wet drops spill forth from them. They left a trail of heat as they slid their way down your cheeks, catching in the frown lines around your trembling lips.

Next came the sharp, burning pain that hit you right in the stomach. Gradually it crept its way up towards your chest like a growing fire right before you felt your ribcage abruptly compress around your heart and your lungs in a single, abrupt seize. A shuddering gasp tumbled out of your lips, your eyes snapping shut. Breath coming in shallower, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip as you tried to fight back the muffled sobs slipping out of you. You knew Frank had just returned home from the store and you didn’t need him to overhear one of the panic attacks you always hid from him.

The ringing in your ears soon became louder than the sound of the running water from the faucet, tears continuing to slip past your lashes as your own racing pulse pounded rapidly in your throat. But above all of that your mind was becoming the loudest thing in this bathroom, quickly drowning out everything else around you.

Because another month had gone by and you still hadn’t conceived. It had been over a year since you and Frank had stopped trying to not get pregnant and let things happen. Yet here you were. Enduring another monthly menstrual cycle.

You still remembered that late night conversation with him curled up in bed together, the one that changed the trajectory of your past year. Both of you had been wrapped limb around naked limb in bed, your finger tracing mindless patterns along his bare chest as you both laid there together, panting and flushed from the exertion of your previous intimate activities. Frank had been rather sweet with you that night, too. Sweeter than usual. He’d taken his time with you, appreciating your body and touching you only with the most delicate of touches. Something about the way his hands had even just lingered on you that night had felt different. And then afterwards, he’d been the one to break the peaceful silence in the bedroom. You could still hear his voice perfectly in your head even now.

“I want that with you.”

Those five words had sent your heart into a frenzied flutter. Granted, you’d been uncertain if he’d meant them in the context of the conversation the pair of you had the night before when you’d curiously asked him if he had ever given more thought to wanting a family. It had been a question you’d assured him had come with no pressure. You knew about Frank’s past–the life that was not Peter Castiglione’s–and you’d always made it clear that you respected his boundaries either way. All you wanted was him. But before he’d ever proposed to you, he had on multiple occasions told you that maybe someday he could see that again–having a family–but only with you.

So you’d been curious that night before, almost six months after you had eloped with him and legally become Mrs. Castiglione–though in private Frank called you Mrs. Castle. You had wondered if he would ever want something more. Something more than just the little family the two of you had created together in your cozy house. Because for a while now it had been just Frank, you, and Bear–the pitbull you’d seen on the local animal shelter’s social media page shortly after you’d both moved in together. You’d shown that picture to Frank and the very next day you had come home from work to find Bear wagging his tail and greeting you excitedly beside Frank in the living room. The three of you had quickly become a family.

But sometimes you still wondered about more than that.

So you looked back on that night fondly with Frank once he’d clarified what he’d meant. When he’d opened the door to something more for the both of you. Because you knew what that meant for him. You knew what a big step that was after what he’d lost.

You vividly remembered the excited squeal you’d let out when he gripped your chin so gently between his fingers and said he wanted a family with you and that he knew you’d make an amazing mother. You’d flung yourself on top of him and excitedly kissed his laughing mouth over and over while he’d joked about getting a head start on making a baby and trying a second time that night. And of course you did have sex again that evening, though you hadn’t removed your birth control implant until almost three weeks after that night, wanting to wait to make sure Frank was entirely certain before you did. And when you had, you’d both been ecstatic about what the future would bring.

But now, a year later, you found yourself growing further and further disheartened and depressed. You’d eventually begun to silently take the blame upon yourself that you hadn’t managed to get a pregnancy to full term yet. That you couldn't seem to give Frank a child. Because maybe you were broken. Maybe your body was broken.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten pregnant at all–you had. Twice now. But you’d lost both pregnancies. And the second loss only hit you harder than the first because your second pregnancy had gotten farther along. You had been almost eleven weeks pregnant and starting to feel like things were going to be alright. You knew that the rate of miscarriage significantly dropped after the first twelve weeks.

You had cautiously let yourself begin to get excited. To discuss nursery plans with Frank when it came to the extra, unused bedroom in the house. Teasing him about how many times you'd be likely to change your mind about the paint color, joking about how often he'd be repainting it for you. But he always just wrapped you in those big, strong arms of his, a broad smile on his face as he promised you the same thing every time.

"Don't matter to me," his deep voice would rumble out with a soft chuckle. "I'll paint it every goddamn shade of the rainbow for the next nine months if that's what you want, sweetheart."

Frank had even finally let himself get excited, too, and it had warmed your heart to see.

Oftentimes you'd wake up, rolling out of bed to hear him down the hall and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. He was usually awake before you in the mornings and talking to Bear, but you had begun to overhear him telling Bear that he was going to need to be a good boy and look out for you and this baby whenever he wasn't home. Or you would overhear him telling Bear about how much he'd love playing fetch when the baby was a little older, and how this child would become Bear's best friend. It had always put a smile on your face when you overheard those one-sided conversations as you made your way into the kitchen in the mornings, greeted with the sight of a grinning Frank and Bear sitting beside him, wagging his tail so hard you could hear it thumping against the wood floor repeatedly.

You remembered how excited Frank had gotten about that first appointment with your obstetrician, too. He had insisted he took off early from work to be there to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see that very first ultrasound. And you would never forget the way Frank looked at you when you’d both first heard that rapid, fluttering heartbeat. His eyes had welled up with tears, his face a mixture of awe and sheer joy as his large hand tightened around yours. You had always thought Frank was an attractive man, but in that moment, with the way his face had lit up with so much happiness as he gazed back at you, you’d never seen him look more handsome.

Though you hadn’t seen that look on his face since. A few weeks after that appointment you’d woken up from a dead sleep, your abdomen aching and in pain. Getting up out of bed, you remembered stopping in your tracks when you felt that warm gush between your thighs and your throat had instantly closed up. You’d nearly sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, a groggy Frank calling out after you as Bear sat whining outside the bathroom door.

You were bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop.

Frank had known exactly what was happening the moment you'd begun openly weeping in the bathroom. With a focused calm he managed to get both of you dressed and ready before he brought you to the hospital. He kept uttering words of comfort in your ear, holding your hand as you sobbed into his shoulder in the ER’s waiting room. Eventually a nurse wheeled you back to a room in a wheelchair where Frank continued to hold your hand and hover at your side as the nurses drew blood and set up an IV.

That whole time you were at the hospital Frank never let go of your hand, not until they needed to take you away to conduct an emergency ultrasound. You’d been terrified to go without him, not wanting to be alone if they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but the staff had refused, claiming it was hospital policy that he needed to stay back and wait for you. You swore you almost saw the Punisher firsthand in that hospital room with the sheer rage present on Frank’s face as his nostrils flared at the nurses. Inevitably you had to be the one to tell him it was alright, that you’d be fine with him waiting for you.

And then you’d broken down in the darkened little room by yourself as the doctor conducting the ultrasound offered you stiff and practiced words of condolences when that rapid, fluttering heartbeat couldn’t be found again.

You’d spent the next few days afterwards unable to leave your bed. Bear stayed cuddled up beside you, resting his head on your legs as you cried into your pillow on and off. Whenever Frank had gotten home from his shift at the local factory, he’d grab a quick shower before he lay with you, soothingly rubbing your back and not saying a word. Because there wasn’t anything to say.

It was a few days later that you’d felt guilty for wallowing in your own grief. Despite that calm, comforting exterior Frank always approached you with, you knew he was hiding his own grief from you. That underneath all those sweet words and meals he had cooked for you, he was struggling with his own pain. And you’d stumbled on the truth of that one day when you’d woken up from a nap on the couch, heading to the bedroom and catching Frank sitting on the edge of the mattress bent in half with his face in his hands, the ultrasound photos laying on the nightstand beside him.

You’d never felt like you’d let him down more in the time you’d known him than in that very moment and it had broken you. Because instead of adding joy to Frank’s life–like you wanted to do after everything he’d been through–you just kept adding more loss. So you’d stopped openly wallowing and crying after that, shoving your emotions all the way down until moments like this–like right now–where you were alone and could feel them. Just a little bit. Because you didn’t need to add anymore to Frank’s pain. You didn’t need to be another burden on his shoulders–he carried enough weight on them.

A couple of quick raps came from the bathroom door, the noise abruptly breaking through your thoughts.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Frank’s gruff voice called out from the otherside of it. “You good in there? Sink has been running for awhile now, just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Biting down harder on your lip, a choked sob slipped out between your teeth before it broke on a hiccup. Immediately you heard the bathroom door handle twist open, your damp lashes flying open to reveal Frank’s panicked expression reflected back at you through the bathroom mirror.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

Swiftly stepping beside you, he reached a hand out and turned off the faucet that had still been running. He muttered another curse when he realized how hot the water had been, reaching across you to grab the hand towel from the nearby towel rack.

"Hey, c'mere," he whispered.

He wrapped the soft towel gently around your trembling hands, drying them off carefully as he turned you towards him. Your hands ached just from the light touch; you'd certainly left them under the hot water for far too long.

Sniffling, you turned your face into the sleeve of your shirt, trying to dry the tears still flowing on the fabric along your shoulder. Gritting your teeth together, you fought to even out your sharp, shallow breaths and get them under control. You didn't need Frank to see you like this.

"Somethin' happen?" he asked softly, removing the towel from your hands. "You hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to trust your voice.

He lowered his face to yours, trying to catch your gaze. Sniffling again, your eyes gradually slid up towards his, guilt flooding you at the sight of concern in his warm, brown eyes. Immediately the tears began pouring out of you even faster, your face scrunching up as you tried to bury it back into your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, c'mere," he murmured, tossing the towel onto the bathroom counter.

Frank's hands encircled your shoulders before he firmly pulled you into himself, burying his face into the top of your hair. Your hands were trapped between both of your bodies, sliding their way up to Frank’s chest before you desperately grasped onto the fabric of his black shirt and balled it into your fists. Pressing your face into his solid chest, you struggled to fight down the rasping breaths that kept leaving your mouth as you cried.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Frank whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you. It's alright. You're alright."

One of his large hands began smoothing your hair soothingly as he continued gently shushing you and muttering words of comfort. Closing your eyes, you inhaled a deep, rattling breath and tried to focus on his calming voice. The familiar scent of him filled your nose, something warm like pine mixed with cinnamon. It was a smell you'd come to associate with him and it always brought you comfort–just like Frank’s entire presence always did. When you felt his lips leave a lingering kiss along your temple, the apology slipped out of your mouth before you even knew it had.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, you pressed your lips firmly together as you tried to bury your face further against his chest. You hadn’t meant to let that slip. The guilt and shame welling inside of you for months was something you much preferred to keep to yourself. You didn’t want Frank to carry the weight of that, too.

But you felt the way Frank had swiftly withdrawn his face from your hair, his large hand sliding around from where it had been stroking your hair to instead gingerly cradle your cheek. Slowly he drew your face from where you’d tried to hide against his chest, his hand gradually turning it up towards his.

His brows were slightly drawn together, a few creases visible between them. The corners of his lips were downturned, his eyes narrowing as they searched your face for answers. You could feel the tremble of your own lips as you studied his face in return, seeing exactly what you hadn’t wanted to see in it. Frank Castle was not going to let this go without an answer.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he repeated.

Licking your lips nervously, you knew you were going to have to tell him this time. Though having this particular conversation didn’t remotely calm the racing of your heart. And you knew you were going to break down again in front of him; that thought alone brought the burn of tears back to your eyes.

“I–I got my period,” you stammered quietly.

Frank’s eyes only narrowed further at you, confusion briefly slipping onto his face as his frown deepened. But then understanding washed over his features mere seconds later and you saw his expression soften. He immediately began to shake his head at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

"Frank, I–"

"No," he stated, shaking his head again. "No. You did nothing wrong."

Throat tightening, you struggled to get your next words out, your fingers still curled around his shirt.

"I lost them both," you choked out.

Frank's other hand came up, both of his hands now carefully cradling your face between his palms. His lips twitched at the corners as his hardened eyes stared fiercely back at yours.

"That wasn't on you," he stated. "None of it was your fault, sweetheart. You hear me? It was out of your control. I don't blame you for a damn thing. How could you even think you need to apologize?"

The calloused pads of Frank’s thumbs began tenderly wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. Despite how dangerous you knew Frank could be–despite knowing the things he’d done–he’d only ever been gentle with you.

You inhaled a shuddering breath, another truth slipping out of your mouth. "Because I let you down, Frank," you whispered.

Frank's head tilted to the side, confusion once again drawing over his face as his brows furrowed further together. "You–you what?" he asked.

Eyelids lowering, you tried to control your breathing, taking a deep breath in and holding it. You couldn't properly explain what you needed to if you were going to start hyperventilating on him. And you sure as shit felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either. Not with that look on his face, the one full of earnest desire to understand you. To help you.

"I know what it–it means that you wanted this, Frank," you began in a whisper. "Wanted a family with me. I saw how happy you were both times I told you I was pregnant. I saw the way your face lit up at the ultrasound. And I–" you winced, your grip tightening so hard on Frank's shirt that your nails were digging into your own palms, "–I saw you. After. Crying in the bedroom over that ultrasound. Because I can't–can't seem to just get pregnant. To keep a pregnancy."

A humorless, strangled laugh fell out of you, your eyes still closed because you couldn’t bear to see his face. But you felt Frank’s hands holding your face a bit tighter between them in response to the harsh, bitter noise you’d just made.

"It seems so fucking easy for everyone else," you continued, everything suddenly tumbling out of you after months of repeatedly shoving it down. "Everyone but me. And I'm–I'm so tired of being asked by my family and friends every couple of months if I'm finally pregnant. So tired of them brushing off my pain like it's nothing, like the two pregnancies I lost were nothing . Telling me things will happen in time or–or there's no rush to get pregnant. That everything will work out like some empty fucking platitude is going to fix this. Because none of them have gone through any of this. And I'm happy they haven't. I am. But they don't know what it's like. How–" your eyelids flew open, your focus on your hands still wrapped around his shirt, "–how upsetting it is to be repeatedly asked if I've gotten pregnant yet, especially when it feels like my body is…" your voice trailed off, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to finish your sentence.

Frank's large hands carefully tried to turn your face up towards his, his eyes once again attempting to catch your own. Nervously you met his gaze and the hurt and pain clear in them only had your lips quivering yet again.

"When it feels like your body is what, sweetheart?" Frank asked softly.

Swallowing hard, your sad eyes held his as you spoke. "It feels broken," you whispered. "Like there's something wrong with me. Like it's–it's a graveyard."

The moment the words left your mouth, you entirely lost your composure. A sob barreled its way up out of your throat, your eyes snapping shut. Frank didn't stop you when your hands released his shirt and wrapped around his neck instead, your body collapsing forward into his. He only held you tight to himself, his hands rubbing calming patterns along your back as you wept. Your fingers dug into Frank through his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.

“You’re not broken,” he whispered after a few minutes, his mouth beside your ear. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not broken.”

You felt him shifting beneath you, his hands making their way up to your shoulders before he gently pulled you away from himself. Reluctantly you loosened your grip around his neck, your own hands holding onto his broad shoulders as you drew back from him, spotting the damp spot on his shirt from where your tears had soaked through the fabric. One of his hands slid along the length of your shoulder, continuing upwards until he was lightly grasping underneath your jaw, his thumb affectionately brushing back and forth along the line of it.

“Look at me,” he said, the command so gentle it was more of a plea. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly your watery gaze left that damp spot on his shirt and returned to Frank’s face, taking in that tender look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given you when he’d dropped down onto one knee and asked you to be his wife. It was a look he’d given you so often since that night. And right now that look was breaking down all the walls you’d been building to keep Frank out of your pain.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he assured you. “ Nothing . And there is absolutely nothing you need to be sorry about.”

His eyes quickly clamped shut, hurt briefly screwing up the features of his face as you silently watched him. When his eyes opened again, they held yours firmly with an intensity you didn’t see often in Frank. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, but it didn’t waver on a single word.

“Your body is not a graveyard,” he stated. “You hear me? What happened does not define you. It doesn’t make you a–a disappointment or a failure. You had no control over any of that. And you don’t owe me a single goddamn apology, sweetheart. Not a single fuckin’ one.”

“But you’re hurting, too,” you whispered.

Frank shrugged, your hands rising and falling with the movement as they still rested along his shoulders. He gave you a single, resolute nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It hurt me to lose both of them, too. But it hurts me more to see how much you’re hurting. And I’m sittin’ here feeling like there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You’ve already been doing so much for me,” you countered, shaking your head at him. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through any of this without you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. Always ,” he assured you. “But do you still want this?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly nodded back at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I want this with you, Frank. More than anything.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you wanna keep trying? Or do you wanna look into other options?” he asked next. “Because I’m with you, whatever you want.”

Your arms slowly wrapped back around his shoulders, drawing him down towards you until his forehead was resting against yours. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the back of his cropped hair. Frank immediately leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. A small smile slipped onto your mouth when he pulled away.

“I want to keep trying,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he asked, a playful coyness in his voice.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you in response as he wrapped his arms around you in another embrace. Turning to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes fell closed and you felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’m on my period, Frank,” you reminded him.

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t stop us those times before.”

Laughing lightly, you shook your head against him. “Probably not likely to result in a pregnancy,” you pointed out.

“Who says that’s the only reason I need to make love to my wife?” he countered.

Slowly you shifted in his arms, your chin coming to rest along Frank’s chest as you looked up at him. He drew a bit back from you, glancing down at you with a cheeky grin on his mouth. When you quirked a brow at him, he sent you a wink.

“Make love, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replied with a smug smile. “Which reminds me, I got somethin’ for you.”

Brows curiously drawing together when Frank’s arms released you from their hold, your arms dropped to your sides as you watched him turn and head out of the bathroom. You followed out of the room behind him, Bear greeting you in the hallway with a wagging tail. You smiled down at him, giving him a quick pet on the head before you continued on your way towards the kitchen after Frank, wiping the backs of your hands against your damp cheeks.

When you rounded the hallway corner, you spotted Frank in the kitchen holding a vase filled with a beautiful floral arrangement. Your jaw dropped as you came to an abrupt halt. The bouquet was a mixture of white, deep red, and pink flowers and you couldn’t take your eyes from it. It certainly looked like he’d stopped at a florist after he’d picked up the groceries because the arrangement was far nicer than what you’d find at the store.

Eyes making their way up to Frank’s smiling face, you felt the tears beginning to well up in them again. Though this time it wasn’t because you were upset and hurting, it was because you were full of so much love for the man you’d been fortunate enough to marry.

“You brought me flowers?” you asked in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Seemed like you could use some cheering up. I also picked up one of those coffees you always order,” he continued, turning and gesturing at the cup on the kitchen counter behind him. “I know how much you love your coffee.”

Rapidly crossing the distance between you and Frank, you quickly reached up and grabbed his face in both of your hands before roughly pulling him down towards you. Your mouth was on his, kissing him like it was the first time you ever had all over again. His own lips were moving just as earnestly against yours, matching the same intensity as one of his hands landed on your hip, pulling you into him.

After a moment you broke away, trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Frank. He stood there, one hand holding your hip while the other continued to hold the vase of flowers, a bright smile spread wide over his mouth.

"I love you," you told him.

Leaning forward, Frank placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile grew along your mouth when his warm lips lingered against you.

"I love you, too," Frank murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze before he released it, turning and setting the vase of flowers back onto the counter behind him. He picked up the cup of coffee before he turned back towards you, holding it out. You accepted it from him with a soft thanks before drawing the cup to your lips for a deep drink. Eyelids fluttering closed, you reveled in the comforting liquid as it ran over your tongue.

"Somethin' you want to do this afternoon?" Frank asked. "'Cause I'm all yours the rest of the day."

Chewing your lip, you turned at the waist and looked over at Bear sitting in the space between the kitchen and living room. The moment your eyes fell on him he perked up, his head tilting to the side as his tail began to thump against the wood floor. Focusing back on Frank, you sent him a smile.

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I get to spend the afternoon with my two favorites," you told him.

Frank’s attention shifted to Bear before he jutted his chin at the dog. "Hey boy, how's a long walk on that trail sound? You think a little family outing will cheer our girl up?" he asked.

Bear let out two deep barks, rising up onto his feet. His front paws happily danced back and forth, his nails lightly clicking along the wood floor. You laughed at how excited he was, your gaze eventually drawn back to Frank standing just before you.

"What do you say, sweetheart?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You up for a little family outing?" He gestured his chin at the coffee in your hands. "You can bring the coffee."

"I say that sounds like a good afternoon," you replied.

Taking a step towards him, you tilted your face upwards. Frank immediately leaned down towards you, knowing exactly what you wanted and allowing you to press your lips to his in a light kiss. Your heart stuttered when you felt the way his mouth drew into a smile against yours before he broke away.

"And what about afterwards?" he asked, tone light and teasing as his face hovered just an inch from yours. "You up for a little love making in the shower?"

An amused snort fell out of you, Frank's smile only growing at the sound of it. Grinning back at him, you felt like some of the weight of your grief had lessened after finally opening up to Frank today. Not that the pain you felt had miraculously disappeared and the emotional wounds had suddenly healed over, but you didn't feel like you were drowning in it anymore. For the first time in months you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

And you owed it to the man standing in front of you.

But you also knew there was pain hiding behind those brown eyes gazing so fondly back at you. That Frank had his own hurt that needed to be addressed because he seemed to be doing the same thing you were–shoving it all down and pretending it wasn't there. You'd have to talk to him about it, ease him into opening up next. Maybe he'd be receptive on this walk since you'd both finally begun to talk.

Shrugging a shoulder lightly, you held the cup of coffee tighter between your hands. "I think that sounds like a great way to get cleaned up afterwards," you answered.

Frank shot you a wink that had your cheeks heating, even after all this time together.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a note of pride in his voice. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, whistling over at Bear. "C'mon boy, we got a beautiful woman to cheer up."

Bear let out a happy bark before you saw him race across the kitchen past the pair of you, heading straight for his leash beside the door. Frank’s deep chuckle at Bear’s ever-present enthusiasm for walks filled your ears, and when he looked back down at you beside him with those soft brown eyes of his, all you saw reflected back at you was love and acceptance.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle x you #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle

906 notes · View notes