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ellecdc · 4 months ago

Note

okay then consider this a request!! for poly!marauders or just remus/james/sirius, whatever you prefer, for a reader with excruciating period cramps (self-indulgent because mine are horrible, but whatever!!) if you could do it that would be awesome ily!

ok I'm sorry I really made this very much self indulgent in maybe the worst way ever lol. I've been having a lot of fun with chef!Sirius lately, and had briefly discussed this idea with @maladaptiveescapism a while back so it felt fitting. I've also gotten a lot of period fic requests before and have never been all that interested in them which is so strange seeing as I'm a person who experiences period's and they're really popular? WOW sorry, what a tangent. TL;DR, thanks for your request, sorry if I ruined it a little, I probably won't ever write a period fic again lol

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who calls in sick to work because of her period [2.9k words]

CW: period fic, reader has PCOS, brief allusion to Sirius' shitty childhood, trans!Reggie agenda 'cause I can, Sirius worried reader won't be accepting of his trans brother (spoiler alert, we are because we love our trans homies), Sirius being the worst (positive & affectionate)

Sirius was on his best behaviour today.

Honest to god, hand to his heart, best behaviour.

But there was truly only so much one bloke could do when they had a Jeffery to deal with.

“I’m going to need one of your staff for the evening.” Jeffery said without preamble; standing half-in the kitchen with the swinging door to the floor propped open as if he wanted to ensure there were witnesses to this conversation should it go sideways.

“Jeffery, do you wake up every morning and smoke a bunch of crack before you come to work, or are you really just this dense?” Sirius spat as he dropped his pan in front of him and fought the urge to turn and give the floor manager a withering glare.

Jeffery, well seasoned to Sirius’ theatrics, bit back an eye roll as he carried on. “We need someone to cover the bar.”

Sirius did turn at that, but his withering glare fell somewhere between aghast and bemused. “The bar?”

“The bar.”

“Why?”

“I need coverage for Y/N.” Jeffery explained with a sigh, clearly growing tired of Sirius’ line of questioning.

“Where is she?”

“She has called in sick, chef.”

“Sick with what?” Sirius continued, causing Jeffery’s brows to furrow as he stared at Sirius bemusedly.

“I’m not exactly privy to those details, chef.” He explained slowly as if Sirius were some fussy toddler.

“I just find it hard to believe that the same woman who left the hospital after getting her shoulder reset to come work a full eight hour shift would call in sick.”

Jeffery offered him a shoulder shrug (and a concerned look up and down that Sirius pretended he didn’t notice) before pilfering one of the kitchen staff for the evening.

Sirius would worry about hating Jeffery later; he was more focused on figuring out what the hell was wrong with you and why you weren’t coming to see him to work.

Sirius had his phone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder whilst he juggled the many go-bags he had in his hands as he stood awkwardly outside of the door to your flat.

He admittedly knew where you lived only because he had driven you home after numerous closing shifts.

Fortunately, the intercom system in the anteroom of your building gave away your unit number.

Unfortunately, Sirius still had his hands full with the various go-bags.

Fortunately, an elderly lady was coming in at the same time and let Sirius into the building.

Unfortunately, she insisted on chatting his ear off the whole lift ride up and actually held the door open to continue conversing even after they had arrived at her floor.

Sirius’ saving grace came in the form of the lift alarm buzzing for having kept the door ajar too long, and she was forced to bid him farewell.

Which brought him here; standing outside of your flat like some kind of stalker as he waited for you to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, open your door.”

“Well hello to you too, chef.” You snarked at him again.

“Yes, yes. I said hey, didn’t I? Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing on the other side of it.”

There was the sound of a quick exhale and rummaging. “Why?”

“Listen, I’d love to play 20 questions, but do you think you could let me in first?”

You muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a swear before the line ended.

He allowed his phone to slip out of its place and into his awaiting hand when you flung the door open unceremoniously.

Now, Sirius could tell you’d not been expecting any company today; you were in the same clothes you’d likely slept in, your hair was perfectly rumpled from whatever position Sirius had just disturbed you from, and you looked more than a tad embarrassed to see him standing here.

He had sort of hoped you would look like a troll; make this raging flame he carried for you burn a little softer.

But no.

You just had to look ethereal and perfect and lovely and kissable.

Damn woman.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, interrupting the both of you from staring at one another.

“Helping?”

You made a breathy W sound - as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” but the words died on your lips as you took in Sirius’ many bags.

“What did you bring?”

“I’ll show you everything if you just let me in.” He muttered as he motioned towards one of your nosey neighbours who had shoved her head out of her door when she first heard Sirius in the hall.

You peered around your doorframe and narrowed your eyes at her before allowing Sirius entry.

“Finally.” Sirius teased as he moved to place his bags on your kitchen island.

Sirius had never seen the inside of your flat, but if he had simply stumbled into your space by accident he would have known it was yours immediately.

There was something so intrinsically you about your space that Sirius immediately felt at home too, even just for having stepped inside.

“Sorry.” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly; bringing one of your hands to the back of your neck as you considered Sirius and all of his bags. “We’d just been watching some shows.”

Sirius immediately felt his heart fall out of his arse.

We?

Had he read this completely wrong? Were you seeing someone? Was your home not simply yours, but one that you shared?

He found himself suddenly feeling quite defensive over your flat; it was too lovely, too wonderful, too comfortable for simply just anyone to enjoy.

“We?” He asked suddenly; tone taking on a bit of an edge he didn’t intend or consent to.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed behind you with your thumb; Sirius followed your gesture to a little tabby cat perched on the back of your sofa, tilting its head at the two of you as if it, too, was confused by Sirius’ sudden intonation.

“You were watching shows with your cat?” He clarified; his voice now breathy in relief.

“Birdie loves shows.” You countered defensively.

“You named a cat bird?”

“No.” You argued. “I named my kitten Birdie. Do you not like cats?” You asked then, a teasing smirk growing on your face.

“I like cats fine; where can I put this?” He asked instead; hoping to god you didn’t notice the blush heating up his face.

He started unloading the many take-away boxes he’d prepared for you at the restaurant before skiving off the rest of his shift.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“Sirius, why did you-”

“I asked what helped.” Sirius explained. “You said food; I brought food. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet dollface, but food is kind of my thing.”

“Smartass.”

“That too.” He replied with a wink, moving to put the desserts in your fridge.

“Did you seriously come all the way over here just to bring me food?” You asked disbelievingly as you joined Sirius at the counter and peered into the bags.

Sirius had to tamp down the giddiness that threatened to consume him at how sweet and domestic this felt; you clad in your comfies as you helped him unload groceries.

“I didn’t come all the way over here just to bring you food…I brought other stuff too.”

“‘Course you did.” You muttered quietly, looking at Sirius with a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Go lay down.” He ordered instead as he went about plating your food - opening cabinets at random until he found what he was looking for. “I don’t hear laying down!” He sing-songed when he saw you still standing in his periphery.

You harrumphed before acquiescing; picking up your cat who made a little brrp sound as if to second Sirius’ directions.

Finally content with his efforts, he moved to stand in front of you with a glass of water and some pasta he brought from work.

You made an appreciative hum and sat up, which seemed to displease Birdie greatly. “God, maybe I need to find myself a personal chef.”

“Oi! Don’t go replacing me now.” Sirius scolded as he perched himself on your coffee table - perhaps a little casual for being a first time (uninvited) guest in someone’s home - but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh the job is so yours chef; you’re welcome here anytime.” You said around a mouthful of food. And even though Sirius knew you were joking, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering of his heart at the sentiment.

“This is really good, Sirius, and super thoughtful; thank you.” You offered earnestly.

“So I guess you don’t have any room for dessert, then?” He asked teasingly; his taunting smirk melting away immediately at the excitement that took over your face before he ran to retrieve it for you.

“Why is she doing that?” Sirius asked after a while, gesturing towards Birdie with his chin who was rubbing her head against the leg of his pants.

“Why’s she doing what?” You asked bemusedly as Sirius fought every urge to wipe the little bit of chocolate from your upper lip. Unfortunately thankfully for him, you licked it out of his sight.

“Head butting me; seems quite rude.” Sirius murmured as he watched the cat in bemusement.

“That’s basically a cat hug, Sirius; she’s hugging you, or saying hello.” You chuckled at him.

“Get out.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“Cats have little scent markers in their cheeks; when they rub against something, they’re affectionately claiming it as their own.”

“So like a dog pissing on trees?” He deadpanned.

“Affectionately claiming you as their own; offer her your hand, Sirius.”

“But what if she-”

“Chef, offer her your hand.” You barked at him with no heat.

Sirius narrowed his eyes challengingly at you but did as he was told; pleasantly surprised when the cat moved the rubbing from his trousers to his hand.

“Have you never met a cat before?” You asked as you considered him.

“No…I have.” Sirius offered slowly, admittedly enjoying the velvety soft fur of your little companion.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You teased as you placed your now empty dish on the side table.

“My family had a cat growing up; a horrid thing. I swear to god my mum taught him how to attack me. Loved my brother though, but was nasty as all get out to anyone else.”

“Really? Was he a stray before he lived with you?”

“Nope.” Sirius offered with a pop of the p. “Raised that fucker from kittenhood. Lived a god awful long time too, just to spite me; I wished every year on my birthday that it would die.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not joking! My brother and I would sneak cupcakes up to my room and he’d light a candle for me and tell me to make a wish. One of them was always ‘please for the love of god let Kreacher die before me’.” He didn’t think now was the time to admit that his other wish was always ‘please for the love of god let us make it out of here alive’.

“That’s awful; you’re awful.” You laughed.

“No, Kreacher was awful; I was but a boy.”

“I can’t believe you got after me for naming my cat Birdie when you had a cat named Kreacher.”

“I didn’t have a cat named Kreacher, my brother did.” He responded haughtily.

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

“Why?” You laughed again.

“‘Cause he was a tiny, awful, hateful little gremlin and needed a name that said as much!”

The two of you laughed until your hands migrated to your abdomen and you began massaging into your skin; a small divot appearing between your brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asked quietly then.

You tried to shake your head and offered him a tight smile. “S’okay.”

“Is it cramps?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie back.” He instructed as he stood from his seat on the coffee table - his mother would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen him with such a lack of manners.

Good.

“Sirius, really, you’ve-”

“Lie back.” He whispered again, one hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you so that you were lying along your sofa with your head propped up on the armrest.

Stealing himself for perhaps embarrassing himself completely and making this whole precarious situation between the two of you go tits up, he finally shucked off his jacket and boots before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and lowering himself onto the bottom half of your couch.

You watched silently as Sirius situated himself between your legs so that his shoulders and head rested on your abdomen as he weaselled his arms under your back, placing both of his palms up against your lower back.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You’re tense as shit, doll; relax.” He murmured as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

You let out a breath and sank further into the couch as the two of you fell into comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered after a few moments.

“You already thanked me.” He whispered back.

“No, I-” You cut yourself off as you gathered your thoughts; a tentative hand absentmindedly making itself at home in his hair as you found your words. “Thank you.” You settled on.

“You’re welcome.” Sirius offered.

“Where’d you learn this?”

Sirius propped his chin up so he could at you; your hand pausing as your eyes flit to it as if you were only now realising what you’d been doing. “Learn what?”

“The pressure? The body heat. The…helping, with cramps?” You asked tentatively, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think you perhaps looked a touch bashful at your questions - your eyes seemingly incapable of meeting his.

And once again, Sirius found himself taking another jump, or rather, a complete leap of faith that could very well have this thing the two of you had been building crumble and fall before it even had a chance to start.

“Uhm, it was my brother, actually.” He admitted quietly.

Your eyes did finally meet his at that, where they narrowed a touch in confusion.

“You learned this….from your brother?”

Sirius nodded as he swallowed nervously. “Right. He uhm, well, it often helped him with his cramps and such, so…yeah.”

It was apparently his turn to be incapable of meeting your eyes as he moved his head so that it was resting against your stomach again.

“You’re a good brother.” You finally offered.

“Well of course I am.” Sirius offered through a breath of relief. “I’m good at everything I do.”

“You’re a git.”

“I’m good at that too.”

You gave a disciplinary tug at Sirius’ hair which made him think of several sinful things he’d like to be doing with you whilst you did that next time, but he simply chuckled and sank further into you.

“I didn’t exactly sit like this with him, mind you.”

“No? What does that make me, then?”

“Special.”

“I guess so.” You breathed out through a chuckle. “Coming over on your day off just to spoil me.”

“It wasn’t my day off.” He responded without thinking, tensing when he felt you suck in a breath.

“Sirius.”

“Mhm?” He offered in faux nonchalance.

“You left work for this!?”

“For you?” He asked as he considered you. “Absolutely.”

“For gods sake, Sirius. I bet Jeffery-”

But he never got to hear what you thought of Jeffery as he let out a very petulant and dramatic groan and lowered his forehead to your stomach.

“Babe, I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but generally a man does not want to hear the name of another bloke when he’s in between your legs, yeah?”

You barked out a laugh and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

“Absolutely horrid.”

“Giving Kreacher a run for his money.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that as he levelled you with a warning glare. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You better be.” Sirius grumbled as he lowered himself back down. “Now be a doll and play with my hair again; it’s nap time.”

And there was an equal chance that you were going to laugh, swat at him, or downright tell him to get his arse back to work.

But Sirius was admittedly overjoyed when you simply placed your fingers back into his hair and began to massage until you fell asleep; him not much longer after you.

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rosenclaws · 1 month ago

Text

Erased || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You are a powerful mutant with powers you hated. They ruined your life and it led you down paths you weren't proud of. Things changed and now you lived happily with Logan. Until your past seems to come back to ruin everything

warnings: angst. traumatic childhood, brief mentions of torture.

wc: 2.7k

Link to part 2

a/n: Hi guys, so this is kind of the you get hurt and he goes feral fic but i've combined it with this other wip i had laying around. I talked a lot about wanting more angst and tw death (my grandmother passed last night) so ive been in this weird state of sadness that i'm repressing. Either way i wrote a fic so there's that lol. I will def have a part 2 btw so don't worry.

Sometimes when you close your eyes you can remember your childhood. What it was like before your, gift, appeared and ruined everything. How your family loved you, how your friends welcomed you, how the world didn’t hate you. Everything was perfect.

Until the day it appeared. All you did was touch her arm. That’s all you did. An argument with your mother, silence, and then you touched her arm to try and apologize and next thing you knew she was asking who you were. Yelling at you to get out of her house. You cried not understanding what was happening.

She looked at you with nothing but confusion. Not even a hint of recognition. Then your father came home and you ran into his arms. Afraid and distraught when he pushed you off him. The same look in his eyes. Who are you? They threw you out, threatened to call the cops. They left you all alone, afraid, and confused.

It didn’t take long for you to understand. A mutant. You had heard of mutants but never thought you could be one. A mutant with a powerful ability. Memory manipulation. You could alter memories, dive into someone's deepest fears, their secrets, and even erase anything from heads. In a single moment their whole lives could be changed. It was a dangerous power and you wanted nothing to do with it.

For years you lived on the road. Keeping yourself moving, stealing when you needed to. Never getting too attached to one place, to anyone. You were alone.

Then one day some people found you. Dressed in stupid costumes. Still they took you in. Gave you a home, fed you, trained you. You grew up there. From teen to adult. Charles was kind and you don't think you could ever repay him for all that he's done. Your powers were strong but he taught you to control your emotions.

Still you tried to stay a safe distance away from people. Not just physically but emotionally. The nightmares of your parents haunt you everyday. They're nice. All of them are. The kids loved you and you enjoyed the mansion.

Still when the team invited you out you declined, when the kids wanted to crowd you during dinner you politely excused yourself to your office. You didn't go to parties, you didn't celebrate the holidays with them. You were just you, a nice, safe distance away from them. Then your world got flipped upside down.

The day Logan rolled into the mansion. He was mean and angry. He had that "I don't like being around people" kind of vibe but he stuck around. Ended up becoming more apart of the team than he wanted. And he liked it.

Logan was the first one to really break down your walls. Just like everyone else you stayed away from him. Smiling and greeting him but never going past that. Maybe that's what drew him to you. You were a mystery who smelled like vanilla. It was your perfume. He would try to flirt but he got nowhere. Eventually he gave up the flirting but his interest stayed. He find ways to talk to you, getting bits and pieces of information from you.

You quickly learned he was just like you in some ways. Guarded, a past life that you don't want to talk about, loners. Somehow in all of it, as he stayed at the mansion and grew to become part of this family, he wormed his way into your heart too. Just too loners who found out that being alone together is better than being lonely.

As time passed, your relationship with Logan evolved into something you never imagined you would experience. Love. You never let yourself feel this way, too afraid that you would do the same thing to them. That you would get close, build this connection, make these memories, only for it all to come crashing down with just a single touch. These memories are precious to you. Every single one of them.

You remember the day your feelings were revealed. Both of you desperate, afraid of what they meant, but neither of you could lose each other. It was the cure. Some company had found a way to suppress the gene. The moment you heard about it you were intrigued. Your mutation wasn't fun. It didn't let you control the weather or turn things to ice. You couldn't touch people. Just like rouge you were at risk for destroying someone's whole life.

Even with the years of lessons you weren't fully in control. You never let yourself try. Logan could see it in your eyes. The confrontation wasn't pretty.

It was anger at first, wondering how you could even consider that. Then it was anger from you, years of pent up feelings releasing all at once. The fighting turned into a deep confession. An intimate moment between the two of you. He cared for you in a way that scared the shit out of him. He couldn't say the words yet but he felt them. You felt the same way but just like Logan. Something was holding you back from saying those three words.

Still you showed your love to each other in other ways. You always let him know how much you cared for him. The words died on your tongue but he knew. You hope he did.

Logan bought you a necklace. Didn't make a big deal of it but you could see the blush on his face. Tossing you the box and mumbling something about him seeing it and thinking of you. It was gorgeous. Just a simple heart necklace with two sparkling stones. One for him and one for you.

Even if you couldn't touch he wanted apart of him to be with you. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. You had Logan. You had the team, the mansion. For once you felt like your life was falling into place.

Apparently the universe didn't like that. Charles had called the team in for an important mission. You weren't on the team due to your own choosing so when Logan came back to bed he started to talk.

"Yeah some rogue mutants. Bunch of assholes who enjoy torturing humans." He grumbled as he threw his jacket on. Fixing his hair in the mirror as you sit on the bed. You're doing everything you can to stay calm, to not set off Logan's super senses.

"Some guy named Mack is their leader. Guess he's got some illusion powers or something." Logan says it all like its nothing. To him it is nothing. Just another mission. To you though, it's the beginning of the end.

"Don't know who in their right mind would do shit like that. Just a bunch of low life idiots." He spits. You wince at his harsh tone. He notices your silence and glances over at you. You're practically frozen in place. An unreadable look in your eyes.

"You alright?" Logan moves to touch your arm but you jerk it away.

"Yeah sorry, just had another nightmare last night." You lie. Logan looks at you strangely before sitting on the bed. His hand intertwining with your gloved one.

"Though I told you to wake me up." You snort and roll your eyes playfully. "And I told you the same thing." You counter. He smirks, you have him there. Part of why you go so well together.

"I'll wake you next time, I promise." There's a loud knock at the door and Logan grumbles.

"Promised some dumb kids I'd take them to the mall. Storm promised me a six pack of beer." After saying goodbye you let your smile fall.

This couldn't be happening. You thought you were finally safe, this was years ago. How could they still be around. Before Charles had found you, you were involved with this group. You weren't proud if it but you were hungry and afraid and they found you. Mutants just like you. They weren't afraid of you. In fact they were in awe of you, something you had never felt before.

You fell into their group, participating in the horrible things they'd do. You never did anything yourself. You were clean up crew. Wiping memories of anyone who saw something they weren't supposed to. Still, you enabled it all. When you finally left, it wasn't easy. You had tried to erase their memories but for some reason they could block you. You got away but they swore one day they'd come back for you. You were one of them forever now. No one would understand, no one would forgive you. You were a monster just like them.

Your mind runs a mile a minute. Thinking of everyone in the mansion. The team. Storm, Jean, Scott, Rouge...everyone.

Logan, oh god Logan.

Would he understand? He would have to. He's just like you. He did things in his past. He was violent, angry, a survivor. He never claimed to be a hero. But that doubt swirls in your mind. Fear overtakes any rational thought. You know what you have to do.

This was your fight, not theirs. You could stop them, you needed to finish what you started. Grabbing your wrinkled old backpack you stuff clothes, money, and any essentials inside of it. You had to move quick before any of the mind readers got a hint of what you were thinking.

Especially Charles. You barely had time to think about this but the fear was creeping into your mind. Poisoning it. It's better this way. It's safer this way. They've done so much for you that you owe it to them to help. You're protecting them. All of them. Logan included.

You held on tightly to the necklace he had given you. Tucking it in your shirt as you leave the room. You smiled as you walked through the halls. Saying hello to those who passed by. By the time you were at the front doors you felt a pull to keep you here.

Deep down you didn't want to leave. Of course you didn't. But you overcome the pull and walk through the doors. Refusing to look back as the mansion grows smaller in the distance. You walked for hours. Your feet aching as you finally reached some rinky dink motel. The room is depressing but for now it's home. Curling up on the bed you bury your face in the pillow.

Your heart longing for Logan. You're scared, so scared. A part of you wants to go back and find him. Tell him everything and ask for help. But then you remember what he said. How would he react knowing that you were one of them? Would he forgive you or would he turn his back on you just like Mack always said?

You barely get a moment to think before there's a loud knock at the door. Hand slamming impatiently against it. You quietly get up and look through the peephole. You cover your mouth to hide your shocked gasp. Logan. How the hell did he find you?

"I know you're in there." Oh he's angry. You open the door and Logan steps through.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice booms through the room.

"I come home to a ransacked room, I thought you were in danger. Only to be told that you ran away." He growls. He's clenching his fists tightly. How could you do this to him?

"How did you find me?" You demand as you slowly sink back towards your bag.

"Why did you leave? What's going on!" Logan is confused, lashing out on you because he just doesn't understand. Things were going great. You loved him and he loved you so why would you just run away. Away from the mansion, away from him. Did you not trust him anymore? Why?

"You wouldn't understand." You try to move past him but he grabs your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.

His claws coming out to pin you to it. The sharp adamantium knicks the chain around your neck, breaking it in two. The necklace falls to the ground but neither of you notice.

"Try me." The anger is slowly fading as he silently begs you to talk. To let him in.

"I'm sorry Logan, but I can't."

"Why not? What are you running from? I can help. Let me help." He begs. Please don't leave him. Please. He can do something. He can heal like crazy, he can track, he's fast, he's got fucking metal claws. He can help.

"You can't help me with this Logan. This is for your own good." You try to stay strong but looking into those gorgeous eyes of his was about to make you break.

"This is my fight and mine alone." He scoffs and lets go of you and starts to pace.

"Bullshit. This is our fight now. That's the deal. I lo-" He sighs and pulls you close. "Its you and me. Together." You gently trace his jaw with your gloved hands.

Tears glossing over your eyes as it takes everything in power to stay strong. To not fall into his arms. He's protected himself his whole life and you can't be the one to put him in more danger. He's a hero, he's your hero but tonight he's the love of your life and you need to protect him. Even if it feels like ripping out your own heart.

"Logan..." You say softly. He looks at you with those pretty eyes and you cup his face.

Slowly your lips brush against his. It's just a hint at first. Then it's everything at once. He smashes his lips to yours. Kissing you with a passion and need that you've dreamed off. This is your first kiss after all. It's everything you ever wanted. To feel his lips on yours. Skin to skin. You'll treasure this moment forever.

He's so wrapped up in the kiss that he doesn't notice you take your hand away. Taking off your gloves and move your hands to the side of his head. Hovering over his temples. He pulls away, breathing heavily as he leans in and kisses you again.

"I love you Logan, I love you so much." You say with tears falling down your cheeks. He realizes too late, a flash of fear as you press your hands to his face.

"No!" He roars but its too late.

Like he's in a trance he stands there. You cry as you erase every memory he has of you. He won't remember you, he won't know why he's here or how he got here. You know that you won't have long before someone else finds you and you'll erase their memory too. It's for the best. It's for his own good. His eyes flutter close as he falls to the floor. You catch his head, lowering him gently to the ground. A pillow placed under it. You can't stay, he'll wake any moment. But you have a few seconds. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you Logan Howlett." You whisper gently.

You take one last look at him before grabbing your bag and running out the door. Each step apart from him is like a knife in your chest. You tell yourself this what needed to happen. You'd rather lose Logan like this than watching him suffer because of you. This way he can be happy, he can move on.

You did this for him. All of it for him.

Logan wakes to a pounding in his head. Confusion washes over him as he takes in his surroundings. Where the fuck is he? He doesn't remember how he got here, why he came here. He stands up and looks around the room.

"What the hell?" He mumbles to himself.

Was this a prank or something? He cracks his neck and looks around. The room is mostly empty but a small glimmer catches his eyes. He walks over and sees six holes in the wall that match his claws.

Leaning down he picks up a necklace. A heart with two stones. He winces as a sharp pain shoots through his head. He stands up and slips the necklace in his pocket, something telling him to keep it close. He feels a pain in his chest. Not physical pain but something else. Maybe he finally got drunk. Drank enough to finally fuck him up.

All he knows is that he needs to get back to the mansion. As he leaves stops for a second. He shakes his head and continues on, hopping back on his motorcycle. For a second there he swears he caught a whiff of vanilla.

Must be his imagination.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #wolverine x reader

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cultven · 4 months ago

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Hi!

I was wondering if you can do a Deadpool x reader x Wolverine fic where reader is like very shy. They find her in the void with the other hero’s from the resistance. They both are immediately smitten but since they both are pretty loud and bickering a lot, it makes the reader nervous. Maybe once they win the fight against Cassandra Nova, the two of them confess to her at Wade’s apartment.

Hope you having a wonderful day/night

No pressure or rush

-W.P 💚

Founded Love

Deadpool X Reader X Wolverine

Content: Some cursing, Deadpool’s humor, Wolverine being so done with Wade lol, Self-conscious Deadpool

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Spoilers for Deadpool 3

a/n: First request done! Hopefully, you like it, I tried following the best I could. The reader may seem a little more timid than shy, however.

You were walking around the ruins of The Void, kicking away the dirt and small rocks that lay in your path. Despite always being on edge, you’ve found yourself at peace with your life in The Void. As long as you stayed away from Cassandra Nova and kept to yourself things were just fine. You had even found a family of your own in The Void, superheroes like yourself who were forgotten with time. It wasn’t the life you had imagined for yourself as a child, but you were happy all things considered. As you stumbled around the woods not looking for anything in particular when your eyes spot a blue minivan in the distance.

You hum to yourself in confusion, taking in the state of the vehicle. It was battered and bloody, the liquid still visibly fresh. It looked a hell of a lot like Nicepool’s car, another trashed variant that lived in The Void. You hoped it wasn’t his car, he always seemed kind enough, hence his not-so-creative name, and you didn’t want any trouble finding the man. Besides, Nicepool was one of the only other people in The Void besides your family you could comfortably talk to. You have always been the shy type, even back in your everyday life in the real world. Casual conversation didn’t come naturally to you, leading you to feel incredibly awkward most times. You were never fond of most other people anyway, so your reserved nature didn’t bother you.

As you shuffled closer to Betsy, you remember Nicepool always insisting you call the car by her name, you catch a glimpse of two people. The first was notably tied up in various seatbelts, seemingly asleep. He was another Deadpool variant, thankfully not your befriended one, and was bloodied similar to the car. The second man was a Wolverine variant, something that isn’t usually seen in The Void and was also quite beaten. By the looks of it, they had a pretty hefty fight and weren’t going to join consciousness anytime soon. Making a swift decision on what to do with the newfound characters you sigh and try to start up the car, planning on taking them back to your crew.

Much to your surprise, the car runs quite well considering the damage it’s withheld. The drive back to your hideout was quiet with some soft snoring from the back seat. Some music would have been nice but you didn’t want the pair waking up before you got them to the rest of your family. You could handle the transportation, but the questioning was something better fitted for Elektra or Eric. Eventually, you turn the car and park it next to the house you have been calling home for almost a year now. You debated bringing the two men inside by yourself before quickly realizing there was no way in hell you’d be able to move their large figures.

“Guys, I’m back.” You quietly announced walking through the door. You saw Remy and Laura sitting at a table playing cards while Elektra was making some sort of food in the kitchen.

“Hey, glad to see you made it back ok.” Elektra smiled, plating five portions of her cooking. “Did you see Johnny while you were out there?”

“Nah, unfortunately not. But, I did find some new guys. A Deadpool and a Wolverine.” That caught everyone’s attention, especially Laura’s. You and her were quite close which led her to entrust you with her past, most importantly the bits of Logan. You felt uneasy with all the attention now suddenly on you, but continue your thoughts with fiddling fingers. “They’re, um, in a car unconscious just outside the house. I drove them here. I probably can’t move them inside so…” You let your stream of thoughts trail off, noticing Remy stand up from his space at the table.

“I’ll go get them, eh?” His accent never failed to amuse you, causing you to smile and nod at the man as he went out the door. Blade soon entered the room and began talking with the others, speculating what the hell was going on with the two men outside. You took this as an opportunity to hide away in your room, allowing yourself to decompress after everything.

After some rustling outside your room, it eventually quieted, likely meaning the two men were still asleep and the others wanted to give them space. You took this as an opportunity to sneak around to the kitchen, the starvation of not eating all day finally catching up to you. As you tiptoe down the hallway and past the living room you hear an inaudible grumble. Turning your head slightly you see the Wolverine stir. Not realizing you had completely stopped to stare at the man, his narrow eyes met yours with a questioning glance.

“What the hell are you looking at? Where are we?” His accusatory tone and spew of questions caused you to become flustered. You begin to tap your foot on the floor, a nervous tick you’ve developed over time.

Realizing you have yet to answer his questions you spoke up, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake. Or I guess you just kinda woke up, huh?” You get out an awkward laugh, avoiding eye contact. You hated this with everything in your body. “I, uh, found you guys in that old banged-up car so I called for backup to take you here just to make sure you guys were alright.” When you didn’t get a response you turned back to the Wolverine who was previously throwing questions at you to find him much calmer now. Maybe he finally gauged that you weren’t a threat to him, and even if you were he could easily take you down. You find his eyes scanning your body and finally meet your eyes, causing you to shrink. His frown lines were less prominent than before, adorning a more relaxed expression.

“Mhm, well thanks for that then.” It wasn’t the kindest thank you in the world, but it was nice he was at least a little grateful for your efforts. As you watched him examine the room you took in his appearance. He adorned the iconic Wolverine suit, the one that Laura insisted her Logan never wore, so it’s likely that this isn’t her Logan, but you figured that much considering ghosts didn’t make it to The Void. He seemed to have a permanent frown on his face, which oddly suited him. There were small tufts of hair on the top of his head, ones that resembled ears. It was cute. Little did you know, when you finally turned away from admiring the man he took his own turn to take you in. You could tell there wasn’t a version of you in his world, but he still felt comforted by your presence in an odd way. Perhaps it was because you saved him and his stupid sidekick. No matter the reason, the gentle look on your face when you hadn’t realized he was awake yet was enough to draw him towards you.

“What’s your name?” He wanted the conversation to continue and was becoming increasingly interested in you.

“Y/N. I already know yours, you’re the notorious Wolverine. Also known as Logan.” He seemed shocked you knew his real name, especially by the disregard of how you said it. Noticing his reaction you hastily begin explaining yourself. “Well uh, it’s just Laura told me, if you even know who that is, um I’m not sure if you have her in your universe.” Your speech comes out in an anxious jumble, before deciding just to shut your mouth altogether, wanting to hide away. Wolverine chuckled to himself slightly, finding your skittish behavior quite endearing.

You felt yourself blushing, wanting to hide from the strong eyes following your figure. Just as you were about to mumble out an excuse to leave the room Logan responded to your earlier ramble, “I’m not sure what all that means bub, but thanks for letting us crash here.” You watched him take in the room, mostly staring at Remy’s impressive stash of alcohol. He stood up from his place and chose a bottle of booze to open and take a swig. You knew Remy wouldn’t appreciate this action, but you were too shy to speak up about it.

“Yeah, of course.” You rocked back and forth on your feet, something Wolverine took notice of. The whole time you spoke to him he picked up on your small fidgets and mannerisms. Despite finding them precious he didn’t want you to feel so nervous while talking to him, he wasn’t all that scary. Besides, he doesn’t hurt people without reason. “Was that Nicepool’s car you were in?” Before Wolverine had the chance to open his mouth a loud gasp followed by “Thor!” is heard from the bed. Upon seeing the Deadpool variant spring up from his sleeping position you hide yourself half behind the wall. Other than Nicepool all of the other Deadpools you have encountered were aggressive to say the least. But if this one was traveling with the nice Wolverine then maybe he couldn’t be so bad?

Noticing your caution Wolverine decided to speak up, “Morning, jackass.”

“Well, good morning to you too, honey bear.” Deadpool took in their surroundings before settling his gaze on you. “I see a beautiful woman has kidnapped us. Not how I was planning for this trip to go, but this could be a pretty hot porn set-up.” You could practically hear the smirk oozing from his speech. Maybe not an aggressive Deadpool, but it didn’t make him any less intimidating.

You didn’t know what to say, so Wolverine said what you were practically thinking. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. She helped us here and now you’re creeping her out.” He took a swig before slightly positioning himself between you and the Deadpool.

“I’m not the one with a permanent scowl! You look like the stereotypical villain of every cartoon.” Deadpool stands up before sauntering his way over to you. “What’s your name, pretty little thing.”

“Y/N.” You managed to squeak out, ready to go lock yourself in your room forever. All of the sudden attention made you increasingly nervous. Deadpool just patted your head and looked over at Wolverine.

“Dibs on this lovely lady.” He began smushing your cheeks like you were a child. He was quite the character, oddly charming in his weird ways, although you were getting overwhelmed with the physical touch. “I would be okay with sharing with you though Wolvie. Maybe divorced parents' style, I get weekdays and you every other weekend, hm?”

Wolverine growled, “She’s not an object, dipshit.” He pulled Deadpool off of you, clutching the fabric of his suit in his hand. As they begin to argue over you, you feel yourself shrink. Their booming voices and increasingly violent demeanors made you nervous, wanting to flee from the scene as soon as possible. Noticing their attentions were solely on each other you took the chance to sneak out of the room and back into the oasis that is your bedroom. You enjoyed the conversation you had with Logan, but once Deadpool woke up it was clear the two characters didn’t seem to mix well. Once they were caught in each other’s warpath it was like you weren’t even there anymore.

You heard them eventually quiet, likely realizing you had left the scene a while ago. The arguing also caught the attention of the rest of your roommates, who were all very curious to see what the deal of the two new arrivals was. You opted to stay in your bedroom and listen to some music to help calm you down. As much as you loved your found family, large crowds were still unnerving. As it got later in the night you quickly realized that you couldn’t hide out forever, needing to eat as humans do, so you snuck out of your room. Luckily it seemed everyone had retired for the night early. It was odd considering the new arrivals but maybe they all wore each other out.

Walking into the kitchen you notice another figure already standing at the toaster, patiently waiting for his food to pop up. “Hey, cutie.” The man in red purred, wiggling his fingers in your direction.

“Is your whole personality just being a creep?” You half-joked, grabbing a box of cereal. You typically wouldn’t say things like this is strangers, but you could tell that this was certainly Deadpool’s type of humor. He seemed to appreciate the joke as he only giggled at the comment.

“Maybe.” He said, playfully dragging out the E at the end. You just roll your eyes in return before fixing yourself a bowl of cereal and sitting at the counter, back turned towards him. Realizing that the conversation was over you heard an uncharacteristic sigh from the mercenary. “Sorry for kind of ambushing you there earlier. It’s just fun to watch Wolverine get his panties in a twist. He was sooo flirting with you back there.” It seemed he genuinely felt bad for making you uncomfortable back there, which was sweet. However, his one comment stuck about flirting. There was no way, right?

“I don’t know, it seemed like a normal conversation to me.” You shrugged despite feeling your entire body heat up at the suggestion.

“Maybe he wasn’t flirting with his words, but he was definitely flirting with his eyes.” Deadpool moved back into your line of vision, waving his hand in front of your eyes. “Just know I’m batting my eyelashes under the mask right now.” You must say, despite the sheer amount of annoyance this man can bring, he is quite funny.

Giving in to the stupidity you don’t hold back your small laugh, which plainly pleased Deadpool across from you. “Where is Wolverine now anyway?” It was strange to see the two apart seeing as you found them together.

“He’s talking to your feisty friend out there.” You could tell right away he was referring to Laura. It made sense why they would be talking. You wonder if he had a Laura in his timeline. Suddenly you heard the pop of a toaster and Deadpool’s demeanor pop up. “Oh, fuck yes!” He clapped vigorously before reaching into the toaster and pulling out a freshly made Pop-Tart.

“Hey! Is that my last Pop-tart?” You question, eyeing the familiar-looking treat.

“How mad would you be if I said yes?” Deadpool looked at you with fake innocence.

“Very.”

“Then, no.” He patted your head once more before situating himself across from you, Pop-tart on a plate. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. It was strange to find yourself so comfortable with the man in such a short amount of time. Admittedly, you felt this way about both of the new arrivals. They were quite friendly, to you at least, and were easy to talk to. You were grateful you stumbled upon them in those woods, and they seemed to feel the same way.

“Did you hear about the plan for tomorrow?” Deadpool questioned. Your downcasted eyes looked up in confusion.

“Plan?”

“Yup, we’re gonna rock Cassandra’s shit tomorrow,” Deadpool said with a grin. “Can’t wait to see the look on that egghead’s face when she realizes she got fucked by a Looney Toons squad.” You just shook your head, smiling a bit before noticing the plate still soundly sat in front of the man.

“Hey, your Poptart is getting cold.”

“Shit! Cold Pop-tarts are the worst.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “I guess I was just too distracted by your beauty to notice, among other things.” He makes motions with his hands around his chest. He’s talking about your boobs, classy.

“Yeah, yeah.” You just giggled. “Eat you idiot.” Deadpool grinned under his mask before looking down at the plate. He seemed hesitant about something, but you didn’t know what. It was only a Pop-tart, all he had to do was lift his mask and eat it. Speaking of which, you actually can’t recall ever seeing him without his mask.

“I might actually take this one to go, baby girl. Don’t wanna ruin your appetite.” He motions to his mask before nodding his head and turning to skip out of the room.

“Hey, wait!” You’ve seen some pretty nasty stuff in The Void, surely it couldn’t be that bad. “Eat here, with me. I’d appreciate the company.” Seeing you want him to stay Deadpool couldn’t just dent you, so he conceded and sat himself back down. Tentative fingers made their way to his mask, pulling it up only slightly. Under you get a glimpse of scar tissue, textured and wrinkled. After taking notice of your lack of reaction he continues slowly, his prominent cheekbones revealed, and then his dark brown eyes. Finally, his mask is completely off, revealing a bald head underneath. You admit it wasn’t what you were expecting, but it wasn’t horrible in the slightest.

“You grossed out yet?” He asked with a forced-sounding laugh. His appearance was clearly a sore subject for him.

“Not at all.” You smiled at him. “You made it seem like your face was going to be melting off or something.”

“Eh, it kinda is.” By the tone of his voice, you assumed you put the man in much better spirits.

“Well, I still think you look quite charming.” Surprise painted Deadpool’s face, and then a face of appreciation. Not many people thought he was good-looking with his deformation, he constantly got berated for it, joking and not. He ended up using his humor to seal the pain, it was a nice break to have someone see him other than his skin. “Besides, I know it’s not the same but I had like major acne as a teen, so my skin was basically as bad as yours.”

“Probably worse if I had to guess, them hormones be crazy girl.” Deadpool had a wide smile before biting into the, now freezing cold, Pop-tart. Gross. You two sat and talked, picking away at your respective meals before Deadpool, who you learned was named Wade, suggested you both head to bed. Claiming you need your energy for tomorrow because he’d hate to see you skinned and popped like a bloody zit, his words, not yours.

He already ran off somewhere when you were taking the trash out. As you hauled the giant trash bag behind you, a person grazed your shoulder. “You know tomorrow is a suicide mission, right?” The gruff voice from earlier, Wolverine. He sounded concerned.

“We’ve been her prisoners for so long, it’s about time we did something for ourselves.” Wolverine seemed to accept your answer with a curt nod, turning away so you couldn’t see the worry etched in his face.

“Just be careful, bub.” That was all he said before walking inside, leaving the door slightly open for you once you’re done.

To put it bluntly, the mission was a success. Logan did end up assisting you and your family in effectively taking down Cassandra. This was not surprising to you, despite his rough demeanor you could tell he’s a caring person on the inside, he just doesn’t know how to verbalize it well. What you didn’t expect, however, was to be pulled into the portal with Logan and Wade, transporting you back to Wade’s dimension. This was where you took down Cassandra for good this time, watching Wade and Logan heroically sacrifice themselves for Wade’s loved ones. It was heartwarmingly sweet and incredibly anxiety-inducing. But you all made it, not without a few scratches but regeneration came in clutch. What you were most grateful for was learning the rest of your family got to return to their timelines, something you had all longed for for so long.

After the chaos, you and Logan figured you had nothing in your old worlds and decided to stay in Wade’s timeline. He graciously offered you a place in his apartment and, after sleeping on a not-so-comfortable couch for months, you finally saved enough money to rent your own apartment which was conveniently next door. This meant the three of you hung out all the time, whether it was an ambush hang-out or a planned movie night. Wade’s family became yours and you were happy.

“Wade! Don’t burn the popcorn this time!” You yelled from across the room, feeling entirely comfortable in the company of your peers.

“Please. I can’t handle the burnt smell any longer. It’s a miracle you haven’t burned this place to the ground yet.” Logan grumbled, resting his arm around you.

“I’m wounded, you guys think I’m that horrible at making such a simple dish.” As if on cue, smoke begins to ooze out of the microwave. “No! Not towards the smoke alarm not again!” He rushed over, hastily fishing the bag out, and dropped it as it burnt his hand. Quickly putting it in a bowl he hops over the back of the couch you settle on your other side, offering the bowl to Logan.

“I’m not eating your fucking popcorn ash.” Logan mumbles, still looking for a suitable movie.

“More for me and cutie over here then.” Wade smiles, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth and instantly regretting it, resisting the urge to spit out the popcorn. “Mhm, delicious.”

“You’re an idiot.” Logan berates as you just giggle. After much bickering, mostly between Logan and Wade, you finally settle on a movie, The Proposal. Halfway through Wade unexpectedly turns in your direction.

“You know, I’m really happy you found us gutted in that shitty excuse for a car.” It was sweet, in Wade’s own way.

“Me too, bub,” Logan says, squeezing your shoulder where his arm still rests around you. You look between the both of them and smile brightly.

“I’m the happiest, I got to meet you guys. You really broke me out of my shell, you know that?” You squeezed Wade’s hand while patting Logan’s thigh. You truly were grateful for them, the other group may have been your family but these two felt different, even closer in a way. “I don’t think I ever want to leave.”

“We’re glad,” Wade says sweetly before frantically shushing both you and Logan as his favorite part of the movie begins your play. The rest of the night is spent in comfortable silence, much to your surprise with Wade, as the three of you cuddle closely on the couch, thanking the universe for connecting you.

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angelsrcute · 5 months ago

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Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

#𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 :: 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 (ᵔ◡ᵔ)#dom character #sub reader #bsd smut #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoyevsky smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

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menlove · 5 months ago

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one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

#this got so long I just have a lot of feelings about paul if. you couldn't tell.#this is all PURE speculation btw. it's just the way I feel it would go if. he were closeted and they were fucking #a if you give a mouse a cookie type ramble #mclennon

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astridthevalkyrie · 1 year ago

Text

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you.

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today.

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively.

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon.

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good.

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs.

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene).

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest.

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest.

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party.

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.”

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him).

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him.

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office.

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders.

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning.

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop.

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin.

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in.

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes.

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer.

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky?

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork.

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife.

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him.

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed.

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys.

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely.

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?”

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work.

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason.

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed.

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door.

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence.

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him.

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did.

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over?

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people.

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center.

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay.

I’m right here, I’m here for you.

You have me forever.

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say.

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze.

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes.

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that.

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant.

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more.

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to.

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

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timwhore · 2 months ago

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Event ; Kinktober - Day 1, Wax play

Pairing : Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Content / Warning : Big chunk of the fic is pre-activity talk (reader introduce the kink and talks / sets boundaries with Jason around it, because that is a huge part of kinks / BDSM that i wanted to put in at least one of my piece for kinktober) and there is aftercare, no penetrative sex ( wax play + hndjob ), reader is the one leading and Jason is the one on the receiving end, Jason call reader 'sweetie', its said that Jason is usually the one giving / you are usually on the receiving end, a bit of nipples teasing toward the end. (this is 1.5K words, wrote in around 3hours, on the 30sept, its 10am please be indulgent lol)

Jason was a bit taken off guard when you asked him if he had any 'kinks' he wished to engage in, sexuality was not a taboo for him, and it's not like you both never did anything sexual or engaged in not vanilla activity in the bedroom. He just didn't expect to get asked this question, at 8am while he was drinking a very bitter - and honestly disgusting - cup of coffee after sleeping for a grand total of 5 hours, courtesy of a certain group of thugs deciding to cause problem in the dead of the nigh - and courtesy of being the vigilante that had to deal with them.

He took a second before answering a simple 'uh maybe ?', before returning to his cup of liquid dirt not expecting you to continue this conversation that you seemingly started out of nowhere. But much to his dismay you continued, 'because, I've been wanting to ... uhm, to try something out ...!' with a sly smile on your face.

Jason decide to entertain you, why not after all ? It's just 8am on a weekend, what the worst that could happen ?

He nodded, encouraging you to continue, but instead of continuing speaking you pulled a candle from g-d knows where, and set it in front of Jason. He looked at it with a questioning look, he grabbed the candle, 'So, you mind expanding or ?' he asked.

'Well ... I'd like to try wax play ! And you kinda need a candle for that ...' You answered, before waiting a second you continued, 'This one is like, ... skin safe ? Not harmful, so safe for ... that kind of stuff ! I think its made out of beewax ? Or soy, either one of the two', he nodded once again, signalling that he understood. He took a long sip of coffee, finishing his cup, 'Okay, so basically I pour, uh, wax on you and that's the kink ?', before adding with a sly grin 'You did your researcher uh ?'.

'I was actually thinking about you, being on the, uh receiving end ? If you are okay with that ! Couldn't want to force you into anything, and that's why I asked if you had anything you wanted to do in the bedroom.' You stopped for a second before continuing 'It's like a two way street that way!'.

Jason stared at you deadpan for a moment, he did not expect that, usually you were the one that 'received' and he was the one that 'gave'. He gave it a thought and just said a simple 'Huh, if that's what you want sweetie, I'm open to it.'

Truly, he was open to it, what you proposed still seemed relatively tame and he could be lying if he said it didn't sound appealing.

(still havent found a way to just do a timeskip, sorry for the immersion breaking parentheses but this is better than just starting the next scene directly in the bedroom, later in the day)

Jason was seated on the edge of the bed, looking the set up you carefully put together, on the bed you laid a towel, because obviously neither of you two wanted to get wax onto your bed, but the towel wasn't one of those rough one, you had carefully chosen one that was soft but couldn't be missed if ruined. On your bedside table was placed the candle you showed him earlier, and on his, there was an somewhat damp rag and a small glass of water and a small tube of burn cream - which you simply took out of your first aid kit as well as a box of tissues, on the floor there was a larger bucket of water, off to the side, as you said it was 'Just in case something happen, you cannot be too sure!'.

As he heard your footsteps coming closer toward the door he decided to already strip himself of his shirt, you opened the door, entering the door with in hands a packet of matches, 'Found them ! They were actually still in the kitchen drawer', you said while making your way over to the bed.

You sat next to him and reached over to grab the candle, you looked up and smiled at Jason, 'You're sure you still want that ? Of course we can still stop in the middle of it but, are you sure right now ?', Jason grinned and answered, 'I am a 100 percents sure sweetie, don't worry, I trust you'.

You took a match out of the book and lighted it up, you brought the burning match over to the wix of the candle, as the wix took the flame, you brought the match over you and softly blow on it, blowing out the fire. You decided to let the candle burn a bit before using it, to make sure there was nothing wrong it, in the meanwhile, you signalled to Jason to lie down with his head on your tights, you brushed your fingers through his hair lovingly.

You took the candle in one of your hand and dropped a bit of wax on your other hand to check if it was good to go, you hummed and then looked at Jason, 'Okay where I go', you leaned the candle over Jason chest, the candle wax slowly dropped, drop by drop of red coloured wax fell on Jason chest.

You tilted the candle back up, Jason did let out a small hiss when the first drop reached him but he seemed fine, his face was a bit flushed and when his eyes meet yours, he gave you a small smirk. You took it as a sign to continue, tilting once again the candles over his chest, this time lower down it, and for a bit longer this time, 'Are you enjoying that baby ?', you asked, more so to tease him more than anything. Jason had been very aloof, and made it seem like he was going along it for you - that it didn't brother him to try but it was not something that he was very into, but he was betrayed by the tent that had formed in his pant.

You put down the candle on the bedside table for a bit, which earned you a small whine from Jason, but ignoring it, you reached over to unbutton his pant, and pull his penis out of his boxer. You gently gave it a few strokes, making beads of pre-cum get on your hand, before grabbing the candles once again, Jason face's was now flushed, he was groaning at the loss of your cold-ish hand on his dick which made him feel a weird, pleasurable contrast between the feverish sensation on his chest and the feeling of your hand on his lower-half.

While stroking him, you let a few drops of candles wax hit his body again, this time going higher, toward his nipples, a more sensible part of Jason's body.

Jason moaned softly as he felt the heat propage to his nipples, he rutted his dick against your hand, and started to lowly beg you to 'go faster' 'harder' 'more please'.

You decided to oblige him, you didn't want to drag this session on too much, after all this was your first one, and Jason was starting to look clearly overstimulated.

You continued to let the candles wax drip onto Jason, and started rubbing him faster, you softly blew on the candle wix and set it down on the bedside table. You continued to stroke him and used the hand that used to hold the candle to tease Jason's nipples, this tipped him over the edge, making Jason blow his load all over your hand and his chest.

You went to grab a tissue to clean your hand and ran your hand through his hair once again, 'Baby, are you okay ? Do you want me to clean you up ?', Jason was clearly spent, and he just nodded while closing his eyes.

You took another tissue to clean his cum off him first, then you strategically decided to first scratch, gently, the wax off his chest, once that was done you took the damp rag, and run it on his chest, Jason shrugged from the feeling.

'Baby, sit up' you told him, he groaned softly but did as you told, you handed him the glass of water that was sitting on his bedside table. 'Drink up, you need to hydrate your inside ~', you said teasingly. Jason did not brother to answer and simply took the glass and took a long sip of water before giving it back to you.

You grabbed the burn cream, 'I'm gonna put some cream on you 'kay ? Couldn't want your chest to be all burned, could we ?', you ruffled his hair once again, enjoying how calm and just submissive he was. You opened the cream and took a small dab of cream and spread it on his chest, first near his nipples, causing Jason to shivers, then spread the rest of his chest, where the rest of the wax was.

'It's done, you should let the cream sit and absorb, so why not take a nap, while I clean up ?' You asked him, giving him a small kiss on his check. Jason once again simply nodded and just let his body fell on the bed, where the towel still was, 'Well, won't get that back for now I guess' you thought. Before getting up from the bed and going to clean and put everything where it belongs.

#jason todd x reader #x reader #jason todd smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #dc x reader #dc smut #jason todd x gn reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #smut #jason todd x reader smut

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indigogvf · 1 year ago

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Need

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of SA!!! smut (minors dni), alcohol. If I missed anything please let me know!

Summary: You and Jake have never seen eye to eye, but when a guy creeps you out at his house party, does that change?

A/N: awful summary lol sorry I’m so tired and have been wanting to post this for ages. This is not as good as I wanted it to be, or as long, but I do not have the patience for that. For some reason the ideas were just not flowing for this fic, so I feel like it’s kinda jumpy. Sorry about that!! Also, my requests are open!! Anyway, enough of me yapping. Enjoy!!

This was not your thing; parties. It’s not that you hated them, but a nine pm bed time meant a lot more to you. Drinking made you sleepy. However, parties are especially not your thing when Jake is there. Even more so when they’re hosted at his house.

Much like tonight.

You can’t deny Josh’s puppy dog eyes for very long though, and you weren’t going to let one person ruin your night. He’s hosting the party anyway, so he has much more important things to worry about than trying to piss you off. You thought.

You thought wrong. As always.

The night begun smoothly. You felt confident and sexy, your dress hugging you in all the right places. You weren’t planning on getting into anyones pants tonight, but it felt nice to know you could. With that being said, you also felt nervous. You and Jake couldn’t get along at all; you can be civil when needs be, but it never lasts long. If you can’t get along sober, you doubt adding copious amounts of alcohol is going to have a positive impact.

You made your rounds of everyone, making sure to say hi to the people you knew; also making sure to keep well away from Jake. You and Jake have been holding the battle of “who can be the meanest” for quite some time now, and you honestly can’t even remember how it started, but you strongly disliked him. You’re both extremely stubborn, so as much as you feel bad for feuding with your best friends’ brother, you wouldn’t be caught dead making amends. And neither would he.

Obviously your first point of call after saying hello was getting yourself a nice, strong drink. A necessity, in your opinion. Definitely a necessity when jake’s around. You’d already lost Josh, who you came with, and you were now left to fend for yourself. You did know a good amount of people, but everyone knew everyone else more than you knew them, so you weren’t really sure where to start.

You wondered back to the main event, scouring the room for someone you know well enough to join their conversation. As you were looking around, you caught the eyes of Jake. His shirt was buttoned up by two buttons, max. You couldn’t quite see due to the darkness of the room. Speaking of, he’s wearing sunglasses. What a douchebag you thought. I mean, seriously? Sunglasses? In an almost pitch black room?

His hair was falling nicely, though. The sunglasses were giving his hair something to flow against, and it was framing his face well. It doesn’t matter how much you hate him, you will always be jealous of his hair.

He smirks at you, mischief written all over his face. You roll your eyes and move on. You promised Josh you wouldn’t argue with Jake tonight, and you really did feel bad. You know how hard it is for them to navigate this.

However, Jake had other intentions. He started walking over; you knew you were well within your rights to walk away, but you also knew that this would happen at some point, so you might as well get it over and done with.

“You look cute.” He mentioned sarcastically, gesturing to your dress.

“Thanks. Wish I could say the same about you.” You retorted with an eye roll, taking a step away from him. You wanted as much distance between you as possible.

“Oh, c’mon. You and I both know you like what you see.” He suggested with a cocky smirk, pointing at himself. He took a step closer, closing the space between you that you had just made.

“Seriously? You have that big of an ego? Take a look at yourself for once. You’re wearing sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Could you look like more of a dick?” You replied, taking a sip of your drink. You knew he enjoyed this a lot more than you did; you were easier to piss off.

“Look at myself? Look at you! You look like you’re begging to take someone home in that dress.” He laughed, throwing his head back. ‘Always so dramatic’ you thought.

“Yeah? Well at least I could take someone home if I wanted to, which I don’t, for the record. You can’t, not when you look like as much of an uptight prick as you.” You argued. You felt like steam was coming out of your ears. He always had to dig deep. Every time.

He began responding, but you had already started walking away. Like you said, you’d promised Josh you wouldn’t argue with him tonight, so you really didn’t want it to go any further.

You spot danny and Sam and take this opportunity to distract yourself. “hey guys, you having fun?” You asked as you waved at them.

“Hey y/n, did Josh ditch you? Already?” Sam queried, turning to face you. Danny sniggered beside him in response.

“Well, yeah. But I promise that’s not why I came to chat.” You knew that whatever Sam was suggesting was just a joke, but you also knew that if Josh hadn’t of ditched you, the overwhelming joy you felt when you saw them probably wouldn’t have been as intense.

“Yeah, whatever. How’s things with Jake? I see you’ve continued your feud.” Danny joined, subtly looking over to Sam. They know exactly how to wind you up. You will never understand how they find the humour in this situation; if it was the other way round, you would’ve grown impatient a long time ago.

“Yeah, but that’s done for the night. I’m really not in the mood for it to carry on tonight.” You said as you grabbed your drink to take another sip, taking a seat next to danny.

“Are you ever in the mood for jake, though? You say that every time, and every time the feud continues.” Sam giggled.

“You know, he’s right. How did this ‘feud’ even start? I can’t quite remember.” Danny said. Him and Sam were now laughing a little too hard considering how unfunny their comments were. At least you didn’t find them funny.

“You know what guys, maybe I will carry it on. Just for you.” You remarked, pointing your finger at both of them to further emphasis your point.

“Oh, we would love to see that.” Laughed Danny, turning to face you completely.

“Maybe you should just fuck it out. I mean, if all of our mutual friends can agree on that, maybe we’re right.” Sam added, without laughing. He was serious. He seriously suggested you ‘fuck it out’. With his brother.

“You guys suck. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another drink.” You began walking away as they laughed; obviously happy with themselves for managing to wind you up.

You made your way into the kitchen, your eyes landing on a guy stood in the corner. You smiled politely as you walked past him to make your next drink. “You on your own?” He asked. Are. You. Serious. You thought. You were not in the mood for this.

“Uh, no. My friends are just in the living room, where everyone else is.” You said bluntly. You hoped that gave him the hint that you were definitely not interested.

Obviously, it didn’t.

“Your ass looks beautiful in that dress.” He said boldly as he took a step closer, looking you up and down.

“Thanks, but I’m not looking for any of that tonight.” You smiled in an attempt to soften the blow, whilst taking a step back.

“C’mon, you can’t wear a dress like that and not want some attention.” He laughed, reaching his hand out to brush your arm. You quickly retracted.

You were starting to panic slightly as it was clear he wasn’t getting the hint. “I’m okay, really.” You reiterated, taking another step back. You were now against the counter, awaiting his next move.

As he started to take a step towards you, Jake walked into the kitchen, pausing as he witnesses the guy come closer to you; again trying to reach out and touch your arm. He flicks his eyes to you, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You really hope he can see what you’re trying to tell him.

“Hey, what are you doing, man?” Jake asked, flicking his eyes between you as he walked further into the kitchen.

“That’s none of your business, man.” He mocks, drawing his attention back to you.

“It is when it’s my house. Did she tell you she was interested in you before you cornered her?” He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He folded his arms and leaned on the counter, raising his eyebrows as he impatiently waited for his response.

“Well, I- no, but-“

“Enough said. Get off of her and get out of my house.” He spoke with a steady tone, pushing himself off of the counter and moving out of the way, further prompting the guy to leave.

You breathed out, not even realising you were holding your breath. “Thank you so much.” You sighed, running your hands over your face as you tried to ground yourself.

“Yeah, are you okay? Did anything else happen?” He asked with panic laced in his voice. He walked over to you and moved his eyes over you to check that you were okay.

You looked up at him. His eyes were laced with concern and worry; they looked softer, It was different. He always looked at you with such annoyance, but you liked this. “I’m okay. Thank you, Jake.” You replied. You really were okay, but unwanted men coming onto you will never get less daunting.

“I’m sorry that happened. If you need anything, you let me know. My bedroom is upstairs to the right if you need some quiet.” He said softly as he ran his hand through his hair, letting it fall back into place.

You were taken back, to say the least. You and Jake were never nice to each other unless absolutely necessary, but even then you were still throwing dirty looks around like there was no tomorrow. It was a moment of clarity. You would see Jake acting somewhat similarly to others; always so kind and caring. But never towards you. You wondered what it would be like to not dislike him so much, and to actually get along with him. Although this only gave you a small taste of that, you liked this a lot more than hating him. You still hated him though. You’re way too stubborn to admit that you might like him, even to yourself.

“Thanks. I’m okay, I promise. I always get shaken up when this type of stuff happens. I just need another drink.” You laughed a little, trying to soften the mood slightly. You picked up your cup and started to fiddle with it. You felt too awkward just standing there.

“Yeah, sure. Help yourself. Do you want me to stay with you and then help you find josh? So you’re not on your own again?” He suggested as he walked past you to get a drink out of the fridge.

What the fuck? You thought. You knew Jake could be nice, but you never expected him to be this caring. Not in a million years.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Would that be okay? I don’t want to steal you from your own party.” You mumbled, starting to pour a concoction of various kinds of alcohol into your cup.

“Of course. I know where he is, so it shouldn’t take long.” He reassured you with a soft smile, brushing past you to find a bottle opener for his drink.

You grabbed your drink and went with Jake to find Josh. Once you found him, you said your thank you’s to Jake and walked over to Josh.

“Was that Jake? Were you just with Jake? Did you just smile at Jake?” He asked, an excited grin on his face. He got up from his seat, eager to find out if your battle with Jake has finally ended or not.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Some guy was being a massive creep and Jake saw and kicked him out. He was really sweet, actually. It was weird.” You said, taking a sip of your drink whilst stealing Josh’s seat.

“Does this mean you both like each other?” He said, completely disregarding the small mention of the creepy guy; you didn’t blame him, though. This was exciting for him. His smile widened as he got more eager by the second.

“No. I still hate him.” You said firmly. You were not admitted the fact that you maybe, slightly like Jake. Not happening.

“Ugh, c’mon, y/n. You know he can be nice, you’ve seen it yourself. He’s even been nice to you now. Without any prompting.” He pleaded as he sat on the edge of the table opposite you.

You leaned back against the sofa and sighed. You looked at Josh’s face and you could see he was desperate for this to finally be over. “Okay, fine. I don’t like Jake. However, I’m not as inclined to gauge his eyes out when I look at him anymore. Happy?” You reasoned.

He shook his head and smiled. “Fine. This is a starting point, then.”

“Sure. You can call it that if you’d like.” You giggled. It was clear he was a little frustrated, all he wanted was his best friend and brother to get along, but it was fun to wind him up sometimes.

As the night went on, people slowly startled to filter out the party, only leaving a few people. You were thinking about jake, and how he helped you. You wanted to repay him, so you took yourself to the kitchen and began clearing up some of the used cups. You figured he would appreciate this, since no one likes cleaning up the morning after whilst morbidly hungover.

You were nearly done when Jake walked in. He paused in the doorway, “What are you doing?” He asked, not moving.

“Oh, hi. I’m just cleaning up a little bit. Thought it might help you out tomorrow when you’re hungover.” You stated, smiling at him and continuing to throw away all the trash laying around.

“You don’t have to do that.” He began to walk over and attempted to take the bag from your hands. You pulled your hands away.

“You didn’t have to help me earlier.” You looked up at him and sent him a reassuring smile. You really wanted to help out.

“How are you doing after earlier?” He asked, ignoring your previous statement.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad you helped.” You replied, setting the bag down on the floor when there was no more trash left on the counters.

“How are you getting home?” He wondered, picking up the trash bag and moving it to the doorway so he could take it out later.

“Oh, I was just going to get a taxi.” You said as you fiddled with your rings, again feeling awkward with this new tone of conversation between you.

He shook his head, “No, you can stay here.”

“Why do you care how I get home?” You retort. It came out slightly harsher than you expected, and he took a step back.

“Why do i care?” He repeated. “Look, we might not see eye to eye, but what happened to you tonight wasn’t okay. He might not have done anything, but who knows what might’ve happened if i didn’t show up at the right time. I know you know that, and I also know that you’re going to have overwhelming anxiety about getting into a taxi, by yourself, at night. I’m not willing to let you do that whilst you’re also drunk and vulnerable. What kind of person would that make me if I didn’t care?” He said, raising his voice. He began to walk away from you, making his way out of the kitchen.

You rushed over to him, grabbing his hand to pull him back into the kitchen, “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, I guess I’m just used to keeping my guard up around you.” You apologised, looking up at him. You realised you were still holding his hand, so you hesitatingly let go. You’d never really been this close to him, and you weren’t complaining. You studied his features, moving your eyes around his face.

“I know, me too. I’m sorry for shouting, it’s just annoying because I was being nice, and you sort of threw it back in my face.” He said as he did the same to you; studying your features.

You wondered what it would be like to kiss him, or what his calloused hands would feel like against your bare skin, or how he would feel insid- stop. You still hate him. You thought.

He wondered the same about you. He wondered how soft your lips would feel; how you would taste. He was willing to find out. In a moment of boldness, he began to move closer to your lips. He was getting closer, closer, clo-

“Hey guys- wait a minute. Did I just interrupt something?” Josh said as he walked into the kitchen, a smirk beginning to spread on his lips.

You both moved away from each other, not wanting to let on that you were making up with each other; or whatever you were doing. You weren’t really sure what just happened.

“No.” You both spoke at the same time.

“I was just clearing up, and then Jake came in. That’s all. What were you going to say?” You stuttered. You fiddled with your rings again, looking down at your hands.

“Oh. Well, I’m going to bed. I’m staying here tonight by the way, Jake.” He turned around and made his way out of the kitchen and upstairs to the spare room.

You giggled at Josh as you turned round to face jake again. “So, am I staying here, too?” You asked. You felt bad asking, but he was pretty clear on his opinions about you getting a taxi.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He responded. He reached his hand to the back of his neck, playing with his hair. He obviously felt nervous. Or awkward. Probably awkward, you assumed.

“Yeah, thanks. Can I take a shower?” You asked. You felt gross, you always did after drinking. You noticed his eyes move over you, sparking a warm feeling in your belly. You tried to push the feeling away, not prepared or ready to feel this way about him on such short notice.

“Yeah. The bathroom is upstairs, opposite the top of the stairs. The towels are in the cupboard next to it.” He replied whilst pointing upstairs. Neither of you moved, you just started at each other. You were both equally as confused at what happened before Josh interrupted. Was it a moment? Was it not a moment? Who knows.

After a few seconds of painfully awkward silence and staring, you left to go upstairs and take a shower. You found the towels in the cupboard that Jake mentioned, and turned the shower on. You adjusted the temperature so that it was a little warmer, and peeled off your dress. It felt good to get it off of you; you never found tight dresses as the most comfortable option.

You tied your hair up in a bun after seeing the stingy amount of options for shampoo. You also didn’t fancy sleeping in wet hair. You stepped in and immediately relaxed at the feeling of the water hitting your back, making every effort to not get your hair wet. You took your time washing yourself, not wanting to leave the warmth of the shower. Your mind wondered to Jake. You’d always thought he was attractive, but you were never attracted to him. Probably because he was never nice to you. But after tonight, after seeing the caring side you’d only ever observed, you felt differently about him. It was hard to dislike him as much when you had been on the receiving end of his selflessness and kindness. You wondered what this meant for your relationship with him. Were you still enemies? Or were you walking into new territory with him? You weren’t sure.

Eventually, you decided to get out and began drying yourself. You wrapped the towel around you and tried to find Jake to ask where you would be sleeping, and if he had any clothes for you to wear. Both questions which should’ve been asked before you got in the shower, you realised. You found him in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed in just his trousers. You’d never seen him shirtless, and you’d never say no to seeing it again; that’s for sure.

You knocked gently on the door despite it being open, to let him know of your presence. He looked up and raked his eyes down your figure. You felt exposed.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you had anything for me to wear, and where I was sleeping?” You asked, speaking gently to not wake Josh up.

“Uh, yeah. You can sleep in here, if that’s okay with you. I’ll find you some clothes to wear, just give me a second.” He said, getting up from his bed and making his way to the chest of drawers to find some clothes for you.

“But where will you sleep?” You asked, feeling confused as you watched him dig through his clothes.

“On the couch downstairs. Here, you can wear this top. You can wear these pyjama bottoms if you want, but they’re a little big on me, so they’ll probably be big on you, too.” He muttered as he handed the pile of clothes to you. Your hands brushed together, the small amount of contact bringing back the warm feeling in your stomach. Stop. You thought.

“No, I’ll take the couch. I can sleep anywhere, it’s okay.” You responded, moving your hand to the top of your towel to stop it from slipping.

“Honestly, just take the bed. Take it as my formal apology for the last however many years of shit.” He smirked, attempting to make a joke out of the ‘however many years’ of torture.

“Oh, we’re apologising now?” You countered, returning his smirk.

“I think it’s about time, don’t you? Anyway, it’s your turn now. I just made my apology.” He said as he moved closer to you, leaning on the doorframe.

“Not to erase all of our progress, but that was not a very good apology.” You argued. God, he looked good without a shirt. You thought.

“I think it was a great apology. I’m offering you to sleep in a nice, warm, comfortable bed.” He retorted, gesturing to the bed behind him.

You shook your head and laughed. “It didn’t even include the word “sorry”, Jake.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, y/n. Better?” He said, still sporting the same smirk.

You wanted to kiss him. You’d been trying to ignore this fleeting thought since you were in the kitchen together, but it was becoming insufferable. You squeezed your legs together at the sheer thought of him touching you.

“Better.” You responded, “I’m sorry, too. Truly.” You said, setting the tone to something more serious than before. You had less of an issue apologising to him now that he had initiated it, but you were so ready for this battle to be over between you.

He stared at you, not really knowing where to go from here. He also really wanted to kiss you; he thought you looked good in only a towel, and imagined how easy it would be to remove it. He imagined how you’d look underneath it, having to stop himself from finding out. He could see the swell of your breasts under the towel and felt himself starting to get hard. He saw your eyes flick down to his lips and linger there, before moving back up to his eyes. Does she want this, too? He thought. He took this as a signal that you felt the same and leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

You were in shock. You had been wanting this, but you did not realise he wanted it, too. You leaned into the kiss, feeding your hands into his hair. You tugged it at the roots slightly, earning a little groan from Jake in response. This felt so wrong; but it made sense. You wondered if all of your friends were right; maybe it was just built up sexual tension.

His hands moved round your waist, squeezing at your skin. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip begging for entrance, which you granted. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling and grabbed his arms, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You needed him, and he needed you just as much. You felt his hard-on press against your lower stomach. You could feel yourself getting wet at the thought of him inside of you, and reached your hand down and palmed him through his trousers. He sucked in a breath and pulled away, “Stop. Are you sure you want this?” He asked with concern and desperation written all over his face, pushing you away from him slightly.

“Yes, Jake.” You whined. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that; you were aiming for a steadier, firmer tone, but you found it hard to care, It’s not like you weren’t getting a little impatient.

He leaned back in, kissing you with more passion than before. He moved his hands to the top of the towel, silently asking you to take it off. You obliged, taking your hands away from his neck and unravelled it, letting it slide down your body.

He moved his eyes over your body, groaning at the site of you. “Fuck, you look so pretty.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and kissing you again.

You moved your hands to his belt a second time, undoing the buckle and chucking it on the floor. You undid the buttons and he slid them off, stepping out of them and kicking them out of the way. You saw his growing bulge through his boxers; you wouldn’t be lying if you said your mouth started watering at the sight. You wanted to taste him.

So you did just that. You got down on your knees, using his thighs as an anchor to ensure you didn’t keel over; that would be embarrassing. He looked down at you, his jaw slack and his hair draped around his face. He took his hand and gently cupped your cheek, slowly guiding your head forward. “You want a taste, baby?” He whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You nodded your head yes whilst you took your hands to the tops of his boxers, he stopped you. Again.

“Words.” He demanded, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“Yes, I wanna taste you.” You muttered, still gripping his boxers.

He nodded, giving you permission to carry on. You slid his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. There was pre cum dripping out of the head, and you swear you almost started dribbling at the sight.

You leaned forward, his hand still pressed against your face, and licked up the side. He took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, moving his hand so that he could grip your hair.

You took the head into your mouth, sucking gently. You wanted to tease him. You moved down slowly, hollowing your cheeks ever so slightly. “Ah, fuck. Don’t tease.” He uttered. His breathing was starting to get irregular as you continued down his length.

He was getting impatient. He needed to be inside of you, and you were taking too long. He moved his hand to the back of your head, edging you forward and testing the waters. You hummed around his cock, giving him approval.

He moved your head forward, forcing you to take almost all of him into your mouth. He was huge; to say the least. You hollowed your cheeks as much as you could as he created a rhythm for you. You moved your hand from his thigh to the base of his cock, jerking him off slowly as you took the rest of him in your mouth.

He hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him. His hand faltered as he threw his head back, “Jesus, y/n.” He growled, pulling your hair harshly. You could start to feel him pulsing in your mouth, and you knew he was getting close. He was panting, at this point. His hair was sticking to his face and his jaw was slack. He looked hot, and the need you’ve been feeling for him has just increased by an obscene amount.

Almost as if he could sense your increasing desire, he pulled you off of him. “I nearly couldn’t stop myself.” He admitted sheepishly whilst he helped you off of your knees, bringing you in for another kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue; he could’ve come if he carried on, the images of you on your knees flooding his head.

“Get on the bed.” He uttered, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it onto the floor. You obliged, swaying your hips as you walked over to the bed.

He joined you on the bed and pushed your legs further apart, “Now it’s my turn to taste you. You want me to taste how sweet you are, honey?” He whispered as he placed soft kisses around your dripping cunt.

You moaned at the sheer thought of his mouth on you, “Yes, please.” You whined, moving your legs further apart as a way to prompt him.

He liked a stripe down you, causing your hips to buck into his mouth at the sudden sensation. You grabbed his hair in your hands, tugging slightly. “Eager, are we? I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunted, smirking to himself at the thought of getting you so worked up.

Your cheeks turned a crimson colour from embarrassment. “Please, do something. I need you.” You pleaded. It was getting too much now; you just needed something, badly.

“Be patient.” He muttered into you, pressing his mouth against you again. He circled your clit with his tongue, and with no warning, pushed his fingers into you; setting a relentless pace. The noise you made was inhuman, and as a reminder of the sleeping beauty next door, Jake smacked his hand on your thigh. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to hide the noises coming from you.

The rate at which he was pumping his calloused fingers was sending you to the edge at an embarrassing pace; he could feel you squeezing his fingers, “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” He asked, somehow pumping his fingers even faster than before.

He sucked on your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You were trying to speak, but you were sure your words were incoherent. Your orgasm was imminent; you were bucking your hips, desperate to come. His fingers hit a particular spot within you, and a wave of pleasure crashed into you full force. You were chanting his name like a mantra, though you were sure it made no sense. He took his fingers out of you and began lapping you up, striving to collect every little bit of your orgasm on his tongue. “So sweet.” He groaned.

You tried to push his head away; but he was stronger than you and carried on. “Can you give me another one? I know you can, sweet girl.” He prompted, pushing his fingers back inside of you and, yet again, setting a relentless pace.

“I need you, Jake.” You begged, still trying to pry his head away from yourself. You threw your head back into the pillows as the slight pain of overstimulated faded, being replaced with pleasure. “God, Jake.” You moaned.

“You gonna come around my fingers again, hm?” He taunted, placing his mouth back on your clit straight away.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes.” You whimpered, feeling your second orgasm approach quicker by the second.

“See? I knew you could do it for me.” He remarked, “C’mon, sweet girl. You can do it. Just one more and then you can have my cock, yeah?”

His words of encouragement egged you on, and you pulled at his hair in an attempt to bring him even closer. He groaned into you; the vibrations sending you over the edge. You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut. You were beginning to wonder why you hadn’t listened to your friends because you did not want to wait any longer for him, and you were already half way there.

He pulled his head away, and slowed down the pace of his fingers, slowly working you through your high. He climbed on top of you, and the cold metal of his necklaces touching your chest sent a chill down your body.

You leaned in, starting a heated kiss with him. You couldn’t get enough of him; eager to feel him inside of you. He moved down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking harshly. You arched your back into him, “Please, Jake. Please, I need you so badly.” You cried, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You moved your hand down to his cock and stroked him softly, “you want my cock, baby?” He uttered, trying to conceal the groan he let out from such a delicate touch.

“I can’t take it any longer, I need you, Jake.” You demanded, quickening your pace on his hard cock. He could’ve come right there and then; the combination of your touch and your shameless begging making it hard to control himself. It was painful, and he wondered how he didn’t just fuck you up against the wall the second you removed the towel.

He removed your hand, replacing them with his own, giving himself a few languid strokes before guiding it to your entrance. “You sure about this?” He asked, his tone switching from demanding to concerned.

“Jake, if you don’t fuck me right now, I might go insane.” You stated, looking up at him with pure desperation. You genuinely thought you were going to combust with how impatient you were getting.

He needed no further confirmation, and thrusted into you. You yelped at the feeling of him; the burning sensation from his cock stretching you out catching you off guard.

“Shit, y/n. You feel so good. So ready for me.” He panted, setting an unforgiving pace. His thrusts were deep, and reached all the right places.

You wrapped your arm around his back and dug your nails into him, needing something to grip onto. He groaned at the feeling, gripping the sheets beneath him. You could feel yourself getting closer already, and so could he, “Are you close? I can feel you- fuck, I can feel you squeezing me.” He groaned into your neck, “I wont last much longer if you keep doing that.” He moaned as he started to suck on your neck, leaving reminders of tonight for tomorrow.

You tried to respond, but the immense pleasure you were feeling caused your mind to go blank. You were trying to hold your orgasm off; not wanting this to end, but to no avail, your third orgasm came crashing down. You dragged your hands down jakes back, most definitely leaving scratches for him to discover tomorrow. He fucked you through your high; not faltering once, whilst whispering sweet words of encouragement into your ear, “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

You came down from your high, feeling utterly fucked out. “Can you do one more for me? I know you can- fuck, just one more, please?” He said, his steady facade slipping in an instant.

“Jake, I can’t. It hurts.” You pleaded. On one hand, you never wanted this to end. But on the other hand, you were exhausted and the overstimulation hurt.

He moved his hand down to your clit, circling his fingers around it quickly. “You said that last time, and you did. Stop being pathetic.” He growled, leaning his head into your chest to start sucking on your nipple.

Pain turned into pleasure; as usual, and your fourth orgasm was fast approaching. “You can do it, please do it.” He begged, his hips faltering as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “I need to feel you come around my cock.” He pleaded, quickening his fingers which were circling your sensitive clit.

He toyed with your clit faster, silently pleading with you to hurry up.

It worked.

Although not as intense as the last three, you were still sure you were sent to some other dimension as your fourth orgasm hit you. You could feel jakes hips faltering as he fucked you through your orgasm, whilst also keenly chasing his own.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come, y/n. Where do you want it?” He asked, his face screwed up and seconds away from coming.

“Inside! Please, I wanna feel you fill me up.” You urged as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

His hips stopped, and he let out a guttural moan that you wish you could play on repeat. You pulled his head away from your neck, trying to see his face as his come filled you up. His hair was stuck to his face with sweat, and his cheeks were a crimson red.

He collapsed on top of you, his heavy breaths heating you up even more. You brushed his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears, wanting to see his fucked out face.

He rolled off of you and got up to the bathroom, leaving you on your own to reflect on what just happened. When he came back, he had a wash cloth and kneeled beside you to clean you up. “You okay?” He questioned gently, stroking the outside of your thigh.

“Yeah. Just tired, is all.” You replied, smiling at him. He thought you looked cute; sprawled out on his bed looking all fucked out and tired.

He discarded the cloth and came to lay next to you, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your leg around his waist, and absentmindedly started to draw patterns on his bare chest.

“Thank you. For helping me earlier.” You mentioned quietly. You felt bad. Now that you had seen, first hand, just how caring he is, you felt bad for the way you had previously treated him.

“Look, y/n,” he sighed, “I’m not a bad person. I know we haven’t gotten along for some time now, but it doesn’t feel good to think that you assumed I’d ever leave someone to fend for themselves in that type of situation; or any type of bad situation. I personally think I just adequately apologised by making you come four times, but I think you’d disagree. So, I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, and for all of the comments I’ve made towards you. I’ll be honest, I’ve seen the way you are towards others; the real you, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that. Now I know that you’re a great person, and always have been.” He confessed, stroking your hair softly. You were overwhelmed, to say the least. You never expected to make up with Jake so fast; let alone going from hating him, to having sex with him, all in one night.

“I’m sorry, too. I know, and knew, you weren’t a bad person. If we’re sharing secrets now, I’ve wanted to make it up to you for a while, but I was too stubborn. I would agree that you adequately apologised, but hearing you say the words made it a lot better. The best apology I’ve ever received, if you will.” You giggled softly, admiring his face. He always thought you were attractive, but seeing you in this knew light made it different for him. He wasn’t just attracted to the way you looked anymore, but you as a person, too.

You wondered what this meant for both of you. You knew you at least liked each other now, but you wanted to know him. The small taste of the real Jake you had gotten tonight was simply not enough.

“What does this mean for us? Are we friends now?” He queried, a frown appearing on his face.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you take me out to dinner and we can find out?” You countered, your heart rate increasing at your sudden boldness. He stopped stroking your hair and looked at you with a grin.

“Deal.” He agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. You pulled away, nuzzling your head into his chest with a giddy smile plastered on your face.

338 notes · View notes

dorotheataylor · 9 months ago

Text

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu sorcerer #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto fluff #geto angst #geto x you #gojo satoru #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #gojo x reader #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #back to december #jjk angst

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biting-miguel-ohara · 2 months ago

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Orgasm Denial with Baron Zemo

A/N: Y’all, is it gay to fall for your one night stand? Lol. Anyway, here’s Kinktober fic #5

Also, schatz means treasure and lieber means darling in German, I believe. (Don’t come at me for them please. I did a basic internet search for masculine petnames in German)

Written for an ftm!Reader

Link to masterlist here

CW: restraints; explicit sexual content; smut; Reader propositions Zemo; there’s a little bit of plot to this one; Reader is called schatz, lieber, and good boy; German petnames; kissing; Reader’s arousal is called slick; Reader is implied to be post-op, but could be read as just being scarred; nudity; implied dysphoria/self-image issues (Reader just started meeting his own gaze in the mirror); Zemo has a bit of a possession kink if you sorta squint; Reader is a sub; tasting arousal; Reader’s parts are called dick and hole; teasing; begging; fingering; orgasm denial/ruined orgasms; unprotected penetrative sex; lovemaking; there’s a lot of intimacy in this one, just fyi; cum eating; aftercare; possible emotional manipulation from Zemo (?)

1231 words

You whimper as Zemo tightens your restraints, keeping your hands firmly but not roughly tied to the bed frame. You’re his plaything tonight. His to mess with as he pleases.

You weren’t quite expecting this when you propositioned him at the bar, but you’re not complaining. He’s hot. Dressed in a smooth knit sweater and expensive pants, with that fucking fur trim coat that first caught your eye still on him.

You’d gotten his name on the taxi ride over, breathed between hungry kisses and groping hands. Zemo. Helmut.

“You look divine, schatz,” he purrs, eyes raking over your form. You’re naked, slick already pooling on the bedsheets below you. It feels exposing, to be naked in such a way. Your scars on display. Your body so shamelessly revealed.

You only recently started meeting your gaze in the mirror. And now you’re fully at the mercy of a man you’ve just met.

But god, if it doesn’t feel thrilling.

There’s something about him you just trust. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you. Or the smooth lilt of his voice. Something about him promises a better time than you’ve ever been able to have before.

You have the distinct feeling you’re going to be remembering this night for a while.

He settles next to you, taking the time to roll up his sleeves. It makes you ache with excitement.

“What are you going to do?” You can’t keep the tremble of excitement from your voice.

He smirks. Strokes a hand along your thigh, up closer to your dripping hole. “I’m going to ruin you, lieber. Every man you have after this will only remind you of me. Every time you play with this handsome little hole of yours, you’re going to think of me.”

You shiver with anticipation. There’s more than a promise in his voice. It sets your nerves on fire, eagerness coursing through you.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. It just feels right to say. The submission already coming easily, and he hasn’t even started yet.

“Good boy.”

Those two words set your body afire. Somehow, coming from him, it’s hotter than ever before.

With a chuckle at your reaction, Zemo nudges your legs open. He swipes a couple fingers against you, gathering your slick. He pops them into his mouth, sucking your wetness from them with a satisfied hum. “You taste delicious, schatz. Even better than I expected.”

You whimper, dick throbbing at the sight. Your hole clenches around nothing, more slick spilling out of you. He’s so hot. Looking so composed and thoughtful. Like he’s tasting expensive chocolate instead of your wetness.

“Please, sir,” you whine. You need his fingers in you. “Please touch me.”

He smirks and teases his fingertips against your hole. Just barely giving you any pressure at all. Just the bare tips dipping inside. It’s torture.

You moan and squirm, desperately trying to shift down to push his fingers deeper in. But your restraints keep you in place. Stopping you from doing what you want.

“Is something the matter?” He asks, eyes glinting smugly. “Use your words if you want something, lieber.”

“Please!” It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he can make you beg, but you’re too needy to care. “Please, please, I need your fingers!”

“Where do you want them? Here?” He presses his thumb to your dick, circling it with a smirk. “Or here?”

With one swift press, he slides two of his fingers inside you. You whimper, arching your hips up. “Yes, yes! Oh, god!”

He curls his fingers, rubbing them against your sweet spot. You moan, squirming and whining with pleasure. His fingers feel so long inside you, reaching that spot of bliss you can’t quite reach yourself.

He starts fucking you with his hand. The squelching sound from your slick is obscene. You’re so wet, soaking his hand and fingers.

Your orgasm builds, growing and growing and growing until—

Just as you’re about to reach your peak, he pulls his hand away. Leaving you to flounder and gasp in shock. You’ve never had a partner just… deny you like that.

Zemo’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. Watching as your expression goes from shock to confusion.

“What…?”

“Oh, schatz,” he purrs. “You didn’t think I’d make it that easy? The place you’re cumming is around my cock, do you understand?”

Your eyes prickle a little but you nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” He swipes his thumb against your dick and it starts all over again.

He brings you to the edge of orgasm once more before you break and start crying. Twice more before you start pleading for release.

It’s only once you start begging shamelessly that he relents.

He undresses slowly, taking his time as if you’re not a whimpering mess on the bed. His sheets are absolutely ruined by now, soaked through with your slick.

The moment he lines himself up and the tip of his dick nudges against your hole, you know you’re a goner. Just the barest bit of pressure and you’re clenching like a vise.

You need to cum so bad. The feeling of his dick sliding into you, stretching out your walls and bumping against your sweet spot, only makes the need worse.

You’d be drooling if he didn’t lean down to kiss you. Tasting your lips with a softness and a hunger that ignites your insides yet again.

He thrusts into you, slow and even. Still taking his time. But his thrusts are deep and his cock stretches you so nicely. You can’t even muster up a single thought to be mad.

He fucks you like he loves you. Mouthing kisses along your jawline, murmuring filthy praises into your ear.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, building low and slow and hot until it’s crackling along your body. Making you arch your back and squeeze him like a vice.

You’re so on edge from your lost orgasms that it burns your body. Scalds your brain with pleasure, melting you to mush. You can’t even make a sound. All that comes out is a broken sob of his name.

He kisses you as he cums, filling your body with a heat that feels so wrong and so right at the same time. It makes your brain buzz with delight even as the sheer intimacy of it makes your skin prickle.

He pulls out and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You were amazing, lieber. So perfect for me.”

You just whine softly in response. You can feel his cum dripping out of your hole. He reaches down, scooping it out of you and lifting it to your lips. You lap it up, too fucked out to care about the bitter taste.

He removes your restraints, massaging your wrists and arms as he does so. It feels oddly tender. He presses a kiss to your palms, before getting up to grab a cloth.

You just lay there, still a little dazed. Something prickles in your chest. Maybe it’s the way he’s showering you with affection. Maybe it’s the way he’s so diligently caring for you.

Either way, it sets off a longing in your body. A quiet yearning for more than just a one night stand. Part of you wonders if that was his intent all along.

At least one thing you know for sure. You really aren’t going to forget him any time soon.

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sleepingaway · 1 year ago

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DRINKING GAME

Miguel O'Hara x black fem!reader

content warning- dubcon-ish, google Translate Spanish, old friends to lovers, p with plot, drinking, v fingering, begging, vamp!Miguel, blood kink!

a/n- My first fic! I am having serious brain rot over this man, and it is so bad that I had to write smut for him lol!

18+

"You are so cheap, Miguel!" I stared at the taller man's back while trying to contain my laughter. Watching the man sigh, I know he paired it with an eye roll. With this new revelation, it made me laugh.

My laughter echoed as the man finally glanced at me annoyedly.

"If you think I am going to spend $14 dollars on water-down vodka you are wrong. I can not believe you agreed to those prices Cariño.” Continuing my snickers we walked to his home.

At the beginning of the night, I found myself dressed up at a bar. After a while of sitting there sipping on one of the many fruity drinks, a man came and sat beside me. I could feel the man's eyes on me as I tried to ignore him entirely. Letting out a familiar chuckle I snapped my head at the stranger. "M- Miguel?" The man I knew since college smirked at me as I placed my glass down.

"I did not know you were in town, Miguel. What happened to you calling me when you are back" Lightly punching at his shoulder he chuckled as he grab my hand. "Look, las mejillas dulces I am sorry I did not call estaba muy ocupada con el trabajo." caressing my hand I rolled my eyes.

"I still never learned Spanish Miguel what did you say"

Waving his hand catching the bartender attention he said out his order pulling out money to pay. "Okay, sir your total is $14.89." Silence fell over you three, staring at Miguel's blank expression. "$14 for one glass? Dios mio never mind dude." Turning back to me he eyed my glass as he handed me $50. "Let's go." Handing the money to the bartender, I guzzled the rest of my drink and quickly followed behind Miguel.

"Ah! I guess you are right the prices are high." waiting for him to open his front door I walked in first eyeing every detail shown to me.

"You guess? Mi Vida, I hope you haven't been letting them rip you off this whole time?" Staring down at me I shook my head. "No, that was my first time being there in a while." Looking pleased with my answer he closed and locked the door. Walking to his alcohol collection he brought over our favorite. "Make yourself at home."

We both headed straight for the couch as he poured our drinks. "So how has everything been?" grabbing my shot I took it before answering. "Normal I guess, work is kicking my ass but I love it, how about you?" pouring another shot I waited for the cold man to answer. "Same old shit." Taking his shot he poured another one and took that one as well. "It is like those people live to piss me off. Maldito infierno." Watching him slouch and stretch out his arms on top of the couch he is manspreading his legs and making his right knee touch mine.

Practically drooling over him.. When did he get so hot? I can almost feel my panties get ruined in this exact moment…

"You okay over there?" A monotone with a hint of lust was laced in Miguel's voice.

Fuck! He caught me staring... Taking another shot I looked at him confused. "What do you mean?" humming at my response his dark eyes gazed over my figure with a small smirk taking over his lips. Crossing my legs I tried to pray the ache away.

"I have a fun game we can play amor" Staring at him curiosity covers my features, now I hummed at his response.

"Let's play a drinking game. The winner makes the loser do what they want, you down?'' Staring at me a small smile graced his face but his eyes showed how the gesture was far from innocent. Nodding, I reached for another shot. We both counted to three as we took the 'first' shot.

After God knows how many rounds, Miguel smiled at me "How are you doing over there cariño?" feeling my body burn up I looked over at him. "I feel alright, next round?" Pouring another shot Miguel's eyes bore into the side of my head.

Fuck does he know I'm drunk? How can he tell??

Taking my shot I tried my best to fake it till I make it. Glancing over at Miguel he does not even seem tipsy. My stomach drop realizing I signed up for a losing game. Feeling him getting closer I felt him lean into my ear.

"Are you ready to surrender yet? Renuncia ya, quiero mi camino contigo." His breath hit my neck making my body shudder in response. "What are you going to make me do Miguel? sighing I leaned into him admitting defeat. Feeling my body burning and my vision blurred I waited nervously for his response. Staring down at me Miguel reviled at me being so vulnerable like this... Just for him. He let out a laugh because my state.

"You remember the rule right?" I nodded. “Just sit and look pretty.” Feeling him shift I looked up at him to see his brown eyes replaced with bright red iris. Before I could ask any questions he eagerly put his lips on my neck, sucking on the delicate skin.

"M-Miguel! Ah-.." whimpering at the surprised attack I almost didn't notice him placing me on his lap, right onto his hard-on. Feeling absolutely in his control all I could do was let out weak whimpers.

Feeling his hand slowly slide up my dress he rubbed my inner thigh while I felt two sharp teeth bite down on my neck. Gasping my hand flew to my neck showing blood trickling down to my chest. "Miguel... What are you doin- f-fuck mhm." His fingers started to gently rub against my cloth pussy, letting out light airy moans I ground myself against his hand.

Licking the fresh blood from the bite mark Miguel moaned into my ear as he tasted it. "Voy a arruinar este jodido cono para cualquier otra persona. Eres jodidamente mio mi amor." Sliding his hand into my panties he toys with my clit slowly. My head started to feel heavy between the alcohol and the pleasure I couldn't think straight. I could feel how embarrassingly wet I was.

"Miggy... Fuck ahh please g-go faster f'me stop teasing me please." Full-on begging tears threaten to spill as I tried to grind myself against his fingers. "Fuckk... mi amor you're such a fucking slut begging for me to please you is this not enough?" Slowing his pace on my clit I let out a loud whine as I gripped his arms. "Miguel please don't tease me I need it s-so bad please just go faster f'me I need yo-" Both of his jumped into action pushing one finger inside my needy hole and another rubbed my clit quickly matching the harsh pace with the finger getting sucked into my cunt.

The room was filled with moans and groaning from the two of us. Miguel was in awe from how wet I was from just his fingers. Kissing my neck he listen to how my cunt loudly embraced his finger.

Tears falling down my cheeks I felt pressure build in my poor stomach. Before I could beg for more Miguel read my mind and added another finger. Moaning loudly my hand wrapped around his nape as my back arched off his chest. "Miggy FUCK- I'm so close so fucking close" Sinking his teeth into my neck sent me over the edge as I felt myself shake, wetting his lap and the couch.

Settling down I laid my head on his shoulder trying to recollect myself staring off in a daze, Miguel spoke up.

"Don't tell me you're already fucked out? We haven't even started yet mi amor."

#miguel o'hara #Miguel O'hara x reader #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel o'hara x black reader smut #black reader smut #vamp!miguel

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

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A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol).

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed.

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt.

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that.

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options.

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.”

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall.

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past.

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run.

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone.

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him.

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch.

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself.

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine.

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour.

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being.

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.”

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man.

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.”

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.”

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life.

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while.

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.”

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them.

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head.

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off.

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit.

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack.

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?”

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something.

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.”

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar.

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly.

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.”

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw.

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story?

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you.

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment.

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime”

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood.

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention.

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped.

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him.

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before?

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it.

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?”

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said.

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming.

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch.

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned.

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box.

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed.

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment.

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.”

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin.

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.”

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight.

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe.

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.”

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits.

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter.

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned.

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.”

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze.

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.”

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?”

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.”

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.”

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner.

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground.

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta.

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.”

“Culinary school, huh?”

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.”

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?”

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted.

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall.

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.”

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home.

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile.

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes.

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven.

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder.

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed.

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her.

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.”

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin.

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile.

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way.

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response.

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?”

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it.

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.”

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.”

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?”

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged.

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.”

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze.

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation.

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct.

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.”

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over.

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile.

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why.

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him.

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy.

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal.

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself.

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.”

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?”

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.”

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life.

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his.

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.”

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle.

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you.

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her.

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely.

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods.

“I’d uh…I’d like that.”

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you.

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye.

You were definitely going to be the death of him.

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance.

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever.

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me.

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec.

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though.

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous.

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.”

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly.

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs.

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism.

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown.

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled.

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him.

“Fine. Yours?”

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled.

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.”

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?”

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected.

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one.

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh.

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?”

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.”

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.”

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fc #my writing #gray skies

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autistic-katara · 1 year ago

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ok i might get blocked by a couple ppl for saying this but the Jackson’s Diary fandom is seriously making me wanna become a proshipper out of spite (read the post before blocking me or whatever please)

like idk if u guys have checked the fandom tag on ao3 recently but theres been a bit of drama surrounding the fact that someone posted a smut-fic of Exer (an 18yo) and David (an almost 18yo, who was aged up A FEW MONTHS for the fic) and they were harassed into taking it down and making a fucking apology post ON AO3, THE PROBLEMATIC FANWORKS WEBSITE.

and this fic was tagged 100% correctly like it was very explicitly tagged as smut n stuff yet there were still a bunch of comments being like “uhm what did i just read 🤨” and when i made a comment defending the authors right to yk, not be harassed for making not even rlly problematic content someone who clearly would suffer withdrawal symptoms if they turned twitter off for too long started arguing with me abt how “erm ackhtually we should be allowed to comment harassment under ppls harmless and explicitly tagged fics cause theres no smut in this fandom and it shocked us” and u could just rlly tell they felt they were more righteous than God in their opinions and yeah so cut to tonight when i’m scrolling through the tag and i see a post titled “i’m so sorry” in which the author made a post basically being like “i’m so sorry for posting that ik it was disgusting it has been permanently deleted” which in the comments a few ppl were telling them that what happened sucked n stuff (myself included // judging by their reply they only did this to stop the harassment which yk, completely fair) and i went back to scrolling since i wanted an actual fic not fandom drama but like 2 posts down there was another post titled “please stop” or smthn like that where someone else made a post basically being like “guyssss can we please not write smut of these characters this fandom is so wholesome i dont wanna ruin it 🥺 anyways sorry this isnt a fic this just needed to be said lol” and like dude, my guy, WHAT THE FUCK?!

this is AO3, this is a fanwork archive that as far as i know was created (at least partially) due to the fact that ppl kept getting their “problematic” works taken down from other sites and the creators wanted to yk archive all fanworks. this is NOT a social media site where u can make callout posts abt how what someone else posted disturbed ur pure wholesome chaste scrolling by daring to uploaded something with *gasp* consensual sex between 2 consenting adults?! (or canonically 1 consenting adult and 1 consenting gonna-be-an-adult-in-a-few-months-but-isnt-much-younger-than-the-first-guy but u get the idea)

like guys, ao3 is not twitter. it is not tiktok, it is not tumblr, its not youtube, its not even wattpad. it is not a social media platform, it is a fanwork archive, specifically one that lets u post whatever kinda content u want (yes, even smthn depicting 2 consenting adult/almost adult participates that are in no way related having sex, ik its crazy what they allow online these days).

and look honestly the callout post wouldn’tve annoyed me this much if it was posted on yk an actual social media. like if it was posted on twitter or tiktok or on youtube as a video essay or even on here, like sure if i saw it id be annoyed that this fandom cant handle the tiniest bit of non-puritanicalism and fuck, maybe if it was on here id even drag myself into a pointless days-long argument that causes me suicidal levels of stress but on archive of our fucking own itself?! for the millionth time, IT IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA! u dont make posts like that that u want the rest of the fandom to read or whatever on there because its not that kinda website!

anyways yeah i hope i explained the situation ok, u might be able to check it out urself if u feel like it and yeah idk this whole thing just kinda felt like a wake-up call for me like yes i find incest and pedophilia disgusting OBVIOUSLY and i dont like ppl romanticising it in fiction but idk i’ve seen ppl talk abt toxic antis before and show screenshots of conversations where theyve acted super shitty but idk seeing this all unfold in person and having to argue with these hardcore antis just- i dont wanna be associated with these ppl, if these are what alotta antis r like i dont want anyone to assume i agree with them like at all, whether its other antis, proshippers, or ppl like me who have a super complicated opinion on it. like they harassed a person into taking down their smut and made call-out posts on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN abt how they dont want their wholesome pure fandom corrupted by gross dirty irredeemable sex. and just yeah hope no mutuals i seriously care abt unmoot or even block me over this since ik a few of u r antis but yeah srry for this i just kinda seriously hate this fandom right now :)

also incase anyone is typing out a “kill yourself pedo” reply/rb rn; i turn 15 on Friday, i am 2+ years younger than ur innocent bb minor boy David and his definitely not already a legal adult boyfriend Exer so yk

#jackson’s diary #jacksons diary #ao3 #proshipping #dexer #fandom discourse #will probably regret making this post by tmrw morning but yk thats future me’s problem #again hopefully i explained this ok i’m pretty sure it was quite rambly

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nburkhardt · 1 year ago

Text

This is something that hasn’t left me since I read a fic from fucking glee years ago. It’s haunting me and goes away only to come back and swirl in my head so I’m just gonna write it out.

Saying this now, i remember a lot of season 4 but I’ve blocked out the Stancy parts hahaha so it’s not completely accurate to the show I don’t think. Also a quick heads up, I skip a lot of what happens in the show because it’s taking up too much brain power remembering those things lol (ps: if you see typos, no you don’t)

“I always pictured you, just, wanted to let you know before we head straight into danger”

Something inside of her wants to break and yet all she can do is nod at him and immediately head into that danger. Not wanting to look to closely at it right now, there’s more important things going on right now.

Takes her shotgun and decides she’s ending this once and for all.

It feels like an eternity passes before she finds herself in the hospital. One second she’s ruining her eardrums using the shotgun right next to her face, the next she’s following the emt’s light.

Surprisingly all of them has made it, she doesn’t know how but they have. It’s all she knows, couldn’t hear properly and too out of it to really follow anyone anyway.

“-eler, ms? Hello, Ms. Wheeler? Can you hear me?”

Nancy blinks hard and looks around to find a nurse standing next to her, “oh, sorry. What did you say?”

The nurse smiles softly at her before shaking her head, “I was asking if you wanted to call your parents now? Our generator finally kicked in and we’ve already asked your friends”

That makes her blink again, her ears still somewhat ringing, “yeah- yeah! I’ll, um, do that”

The call with her mom she barely hears, but she knows that they’re on their way. As she hangs up the phone she looks around and doesn’t see any of her friends, it makes her nervous.

“Hey, where are my friends?” She asks the same nurse and catches her surprised look, “did- you already told me didn’t you?”

The nod is enough but the nurse still says, “Yes, two of them got admitted, the other two are in there with them. They didn’t want to be separated so they’re in room 130, just over there”

She knocks once before opening it to find what she expected, Steve in one bed with Robin clinging to him and Eddie on the other with Dustin sitting next to him.

It shouldn’t be surprising but it is.

“Nance! Heyyyyyy, welcome to the party!”

Robin snorts, “don’t mind the Dingus Duo, the doctors gave them some strong medicine for the bites”

She shakes her head, smiling just a little at them. Steve’s mumbling about Robin ruining the party, Dustin’s laughing and Eddie has his eyes closed either falling asleep or already there. She takes a seat on the extra chair, opens her mouth but lost her words. The room is filled with beeping, Steve and Robin whispering and Eddie snoring.

It’s nice, this is nice.

A pleasant change from the chaos they went through just hours ago.

Seeing Jonathan is amazing, he pulls her close and presses a kiss to her forehead. Her arms are wrapped around him and she can’t stop the tears from falling even if it’s a happy moment.

Because it is, actually seeing him in person and not just hearing his voice.

He holds her close and it feels great, it does. But there’s Steve’s words echoing in her head. It makes her hide her face in hopes to cancel them out, she’s with her boyfriend. The boy she loves with all her heart, and yet, yet she’s thinking of the one she broke at sixteen.

Those words swirl, rattle and settles in her head as she helps fix the cabin up. They burn when Jonathan jokes about Steve being in charge, she huffs a laugh but disagrees.

She sees the confusion on Jonathan’s face. That doesn’t surprise her. Instead of continuing, they’re interrupted.

Seeing Joyce and all of the Byers reunite brightens the moment of confusion, seeing Hopper is a massive shock but a welcomed one.

Fixing the cabin is a process, but with the actual adults back, they decide to stop for the day and make their way home.

She watches as Mike clings to El and Will, watches as Joyce holds Hopper’s hand in a death grips. Sees Jonathan hovering and she’s on the outside.

There’s those words making her stay on the outside.

There’s static in her ears, her vision blurry, heart beating fast and she can’t figure out what happened. How did this happen? They were fine, Jonathan promised. She promised.

“I’m really sorry, Nance. I just can’t be in a relationship anymore, I love you. I do, but my family needs me and I, I need them more. You have to understand” he’s holding her close and she can feel his tears fall onto her, “I won’t ask you to wait, you deserve someone who’ll love and focus on you.”

All she can do is nod as tears go down her face.

They share one last kiss before separating for good. He hugs her close and she squeezes her eyes shut.

It’s several hours later, having spent most of the day in a haze. She’s sitting at her desk, trying to get her focus back, when those words from months ago start to swirl back in.

“I always pictured you, just, wanted to let you know before we head straight into danger”

“-just travel across the country, with my family”and “always dreamt this” filters in with it, she doesn’t know what she’s feeling, she shouldn’t be thinking about her first boyfriend like this.

Jonathan just broke up with her, not even a full twenty four hours yet.

But the words are swirling fast and she can feel her stomach flutter suddenly remembering that feeling those emotions Steve used to give her.

It was nice, even if sometimes she had to be away from him. He did treat her like she was his world and it felt like it. Nancy goes to sleep with a plan set in mind.

Tomorrow, she’ll go to Steve’s and hope he still wants that second chance.

Dressed in her best clothes, wearing pretty make-up, she makes her way to the Harrington house.

Seeing Eddie’s van parked outside doesn’t surprise her, not really, what does make her pause is when she walks by a bike and skateboard on the porch.

Seeing that makes her doubt the timing, Eddie there is alright he shouldn’t know the history between her and Steve. She also swears she heard him talking Steve about lost loves and second chances.

The bike can only be owned by Dustin and he definitely knows the history and Max well, since Spring Break, has been particularly living with Steve at this point. Stating a number of times that Steve is her brother, she might not know the story but she’ll be questioning.

But she’s here now and Steve’s words are on fire in her head.

So, she moves ahead determined. She knocks on the door and takes a few deep breaths to get her composure.

The door opens and it’s not Steve answering, it’s Dustin and she blinks. Losing that composure she just gained, it’s quick and she’s quick to get it back with an easy smile. “Hi Dustin, can I come in?”

He’s been hanging out with Eddie too much lately, since he is loose with his posture now and opens the door with an exaggerated smile and waving his arm as he opens the door more.

“Nancy?”

She looks around, sitting on the couch is Max who’s got an eyebrow raise and frown.

“Hi Max, I wanted to speak with Steve. What’re you doing here?”

Both of them shrug and Dustin moves to sit next to Max, “We have plans with Steve and Eddie, we got tired of waiting outside”

“So we broke in”

She rolls her eyes, moves to stand closer to the stairs, “Are they awake? Where is Eddie?”

The two share a look and she can’t figure out what it means, Dustin has a mischievous smile once he’s looking back towards her, “Upstairs”

A little suspicious at the look, but the words in her head has her pushing forward despite the alarm bells ringing that something is up.

Steve’s house has changed since the last time she was here, there’s more life within it and old family portraits are gone, photos of friends in their places instead. There’s a door with a sign saying ‘Dustin’s room’ on it, and she passes an open door that was originally Steve’s. It’s cleared out except for the desk and the plaid wallpaper.

The next room is opened just a bit, she itches closer and pushes the door to see more and her whole body freezes.

There on the bed is not only Steve but Eddie too. From where she’s standing, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back and has an arm around him; keeping him close.

She tears her eyes away from them and immediately regrets it.

On the floor is a mix of Steve’s clothes and Eddie’s, that’s not it though. Sitting directly next to bed is ripped condom packaging and by the trash bin is a poor attempt at throwing away a used condom.

It brings her attention back to the bed, in the short glance away, Steve has moved in his sleep. Instead of facing away; he’s now facing Eddie and nearly on top of the other. She tenses up as Eddie tightens his arms around Steve, then she pulls the door shut before moving quickly down the stairs.

Without acknowledging the two on the couch she makes it to the door, just as she pulls it open the door she’s stopped.

“They’re asleep still? We could tell Steve you stopped by” she can just hear smugness coming from Dustin and Max sniggering.

Shaking her head, she refuses to look back at them, “no, no, it’s fine. Have uh, have a good day!”

“It doesn’t make sense! I, I thought- he” Nancy mumbles to herself, trying to collect her thoughts. She didn’t even bother moving yet, still sitting inside her car mumbling and trying to figure this out.

She could’ve sworn Steve was flirting with her, she knows she was a little during the fight. It felt natural and right. Even though it was wrong, very wrong. But- it was potentially the end of the world, they could’ve died! Everyone involved would understand her lapse of judgment.

Steve had told her, admitted his dream with her in it.

Him and Eddie? Steve likes boys? Since when? Was- was it a lie then? Was she being led on? Maybe even being used?

She’s so in her head, she doesn’t notice anyone walk up and only realizes when her whole body jolts at the knocking on her window. Shaking her head and reaching for her glove box, looking over her eyes widen at Steve standing there.

He’s wearing sweatpants with only a jacket over his bare chest, he looks worried, confused and most importantly; scared.

Taking a breath, she rolls her window down before looking at him, “Steve, hi.”

“Nancy, what are you doing here?”

Frowning, she looks away from him and startles at seeing Eddie standing there by the door also looking scared. Her eyes must be wide, because Steve clears his throat and she immediately looks back at him. “I- I”

Steve sighs, dropping his arms to run a hand over his face and hair, looking away from her, “Nancy, what you saw- you can’t tell anyone. Okay? Please. I don’t understand why you’re here right now and I really don’t want to know rig-” he shakes his head, “just, please don’t tell anyone”

She opens her mouth, but the words get caught. Steve’s look is haunted, even more afraid then a few months ago. Closing her mouth, taking another look at Eddie by the door before focusing her attention back on Steve.

“I won’t. I promise, Steve. I won’t tell anyone, just- maybe we can talk sometime? All of us?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, she can tell by his eyes and how he glances behind him, before looking at her again. “I’ll have to talk with Eddie first, but, uh yeah sure.”

Steve gives a weak smile at her that she tries to match, despite her racing thoughts. He steps away from the car and she starts it, nodding her head before driving away. She watches in her rear view mirror as Steve walks over to Eddie and only squeezes his arm before leading him inside.

Imagines that once inside, Steve pulls Eddie close and holds him tight.

Three Days Later

It wasn’t avoiding them, she really wasn’t. She had to collect her thoughts, really figure out what she absolutely wanted in life now.

Which, she still doesn’t know, at least relationship wise.

Thinking back on the last few years and how they’re finally no longer fighting for their lives and the world, she can go for her dream of becoming a journalist. Which is exactly what she realizes, two days into her thinking, that’s what she actually wants in life. Not a relationship with Steve. Not even a relationship with Jonathan at this point, she doesn’t need that right now.

By the third day, she realizes how selfish she was acting and how much she actually scared, maybe even hurt Steve and Eddie.

That’s what brings her back to Steve’s front door with an apology and some cookies. There’s no bikes or skateboards this time around, just Eddie’s van and it’s not first thing in the morning.

Knocking on the door is quick and as she wants gets her composure and tries to relax. It’s not long before the door opens, Steve standing on the other side and her mind flashes back to the night in 83. Shaking her head to get rid of it, smiling she raises her hands up with the plate.

“I bought cookies”

Steve smiles a little and let’s her in, “you didn’t have to, Robs and I had a baking spree last night”

“Yeah and it’s all delicious!” Eddie shouts out, from somewhere.

It does some a little like a bakery in here, she notices. Placing the plate on the table before looking at Steve, “no, my mom insisted I bring them.”

Steve just nods as he closes the door, “It’s fine, we love cookies and if we don’t finish them, Eddie’s friends and Robs is coming over later anyway”

He leads her towards the kitchen and she’s not surprised to find Eddie at the table with paints and figurines, “Elder Wheeler, good afternoon on this fine day”

A laugh bubbles out of her, as she takes a seat across from him and she watches Steve take the seat right next to Eddie. Eddie looks towards him and she gets to see a silent conversation pass between the two, it’s not like the ones she’d see between Steve and Robin or even the ones she’d have with Jonathan.

It ends a second later when Steve looks towards her with a tight smile, “Nancy, I’m sor-”

“No!” She’s a little loud but it makes his mouth snap shut and Eddie to widen his eyes, “sorry, but you don’t have to apologize to me. If anyone should, it’s me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you guys or to make you uncomfortable. I, I wasn’t thinking straight”

Eddie snorts, “couldn’t imagine how to do that”

It makes both her and Steve break into a smile, she’s quicker at sobering up though, sits straighter and clears her throat before settling her eyes on Steve, “I was being selfish, that’s why I came over the other day. Your words were in my head and I thought, maybe they were telling me that we could have a second chance. But I realized, I don’t want it anymore.”

Steve looks confused, “my words? Wha- my old dream? That thing?”

She nods, “yeah and I didn’t think things through, came here and found you both in bed and, scared you”

“You did” Eddie nods, dropping a hand to Steve’s, “When Dustin and Max mentioned you were in the house and looking for Steve, it really did scare us”

“I know, and I’m truly sorry for doing that to you both.” She looks away from them and sees how tightly Eddie has Steve’s hand in his, “You’re-”

“Relationship,” Steve interrupts her, “our relationship”

She nods, “it’s yours and I shouldn’t have even thought of you the way I was.”

They both nod and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Can, can I ask you?” She doesn’t know how to approach this, this isn’t something she does a lot. This is completely different from anything she’s done before, “You don’t have to tell me anything”

The couple share another long look before looking back at her, “I’m gay, I only like boys.”

“I like both. I especially like Eddie” Steve’s smile is bright and aimed completely at Eddie, “before you ask, we’ve been dating since we got out of the hospital.”

It surprises her, it’s been months.

“Yeah, I was surprised too. Thought Stevie boy was still high off the pain meds, turns out he was completely serious” Eddie laughs, “We haven’t told many people, gotta be careful with this”

She’s not surprised by that and nods, “I understand, I’m just a little confused- if you liked him and why give me hope? Why tell me that dream of yours”

“Nance, we were in the middle of a war,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand before letting go and reaching over to take her hand, “I wasn’t lying, I did dream of having a future with you. I thought we weren’t going to come out of it, didn’t think I’d have even a chance of growing up. That dream was from a little lonely boy who loved you with everything, I thought you should know that before something happened to us. But that wasn’t my only dream, and I know that’s not the kind of life you’d want, right?”

Her eyes are watering and nods, “You’re right, it was nice though”

It makes all of them laugh and Nancy feels like she knows him better, “I really am sorry, not just for scaring you. But for what I did back then”

“I’m sorry too”

There’s tears falling from both of them and she can see Eddie wiping away his own eyes.

A laugh bubbles up out of her, then Steve and lastly Eddie. It’s tears and laughter between them now.

Okay, look I’ll be completely serious right now. This wasn’t supposed to be this long, honestly. That’s why it ends the way it does, because it could go on even more. But I’d be repeating myself I think. Also, all of this just for the image of Nancy finding out about Steddie in like the most awkward way possible. (Without it being completely explicit 🤣)

Hope it reads okay, I had some help from the discord babes, @i-less-than-three-you & @strangersteddierthings! Love you both lovelies 💜

Information that isn’t in the fic: Robin and Wayne are the first ones to know about Steddie. Dustin, Max & the CC boys are the only other ones that know (besides Nancy) everyone else doesn’t. Also this takes place over a span of a few months. The very first part is directly after vecna (max isn’t hurt) and jumps to the “two days later” after that. But Jonathan and Nancy break up is about two months later.

TAGLIST! (If you want to be added, let me know!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @grimmfitzz

#Nancy finds out about steddie #steddie #steddie fic #past stancy #Nancy Wheeler POV #nburkhardt writes #pls don’t hate me for how I wrote Nancy this was my first real attempt 🫣#pls know I do love her #Nancy Wheeler #steve x eddie #stranger things fic

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