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bunnibitez · 5 months

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Messy Hands - Part Two

Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader AFAB

Summary: Miguel just can’t get you off his mind. As a result, he’s always there when you need him most, whether you like it or not.

Word count: 4.6k+

CW: 18+ so MDNI, NSFW, mentions of blood, acts of violence, SA(NOT MIGUEL), stalking, jealousy, possessive behaviors, toxic relationship, mentions of death, slow burn, no use of Y/N

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO GET OUT BUT I PROMISE ITS GOOD!!! THANK YOU TO MY BETA READER @jshookthighs I FUCKIN LOVE YOU

Part One here

Time never stops.

It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going battle behind closed eyes and clenched fists. No matter how many deep breaths are sucked in between gritted teeth, no matter how much he prayed, begged, kicked or screamed, time marched on. Taking it’s toll on the world and his soul as it did. With time came its companion, decay. A devious creature that preyed on the innocent and beautiful, corrupting it with it’s touch. That’s how Miguel began to see it all. It was a matter of time until his brain too rotted away until his skull was nothing more than an empty cavity to host his rage rather than his conscience. Every day he could feel the threads of his sanity being pulled taut, and every day he doubted how much longer he could go without being the cause of a fucking masacre.

Wrath.

Rage.

Justice.

So much “justice” due. That’s how he saw it. So many people had done wrong by him; tore him apart, brick by brick. Hurt the people he loved most just to get to him. Until one fateful night, he was left with nothing but a beating heart pumping weakly in a dirty alley, left to die. His chest still tightens at the memory of her. Stolen innocence snuffed out too soon. And yet the ones to blame were left unharmed, hidden behind the ivory walls of their mansions, never truly getting their hands dirty.

Cowards.

If only he had the chance, he’d slaughter them. Watch the life drain from their pathetic bodies as they’d squirm and writhe in pain. Begging for a bullet. But Miguel would take his time with them though, he was patient and knew better than to grant them a sliver of mercy. It was the only lesson his father ever taught him.

But that all would come in due time. Miguel was patient, capable of biding his time until his prey found themselves tangled in his web and unable to escape. But until then much like time, Miguel marched on; dragging a little corpse behind him.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Weeks had since passed at this point, breezing through late spring and bleeding into early summer. The days after the mysterious brute entered Bellagino’s were tense, leaving Mr. Caparelli flighty and panicked. The stout little man could often be found pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself with a distraught look painted on his face. You didn’t dare ask why he seemed so frightened since his ‘friend’ came to visit, mostly because you yourself seemed a little terrified of him as well. In lieu of your best efforts and his divine features, the man was cold and seemed pestered by your presence at your last encounter. Despite this though, you seem to find yourself staring at him more and more. Since the meeting with Bellaginos’ owner, Miguel had begun to visit the quaint little restaurant every other week or so.

Miguel couldn’t find the motive behind his actions truly. He raked his brain for an answer, disturbing the cobwebs in his head to try and understand why he had to mindlessly sit here and watch. Sit and watch this run down old restaurant like a dog. Sit and feel his shoulders slump as the soft hum began to tune out the buzzing in his mind. He’d come in and plop down at the same little table in the center of the room and the owner would bring him the same ice water with lemon.

For the first two weeks, he had attempted to convince himself it was purely to ensure that Caparelli wouldn’t run out on him. Sure, getting to watch the pretty little thing behind the register try not to stare was fun, but these were just business trips. What did it matter that he started coming in twice a week? What did it matter that he’d feel a twist of disappointment when he’d walk through the creaky little door and not see you in your usual spot because it was your day off? It was just business.

That is until finally he had no choice but to confront the truth. It came at him, sitting in his lap, oozing through his gut and making his stomach tie in knots. It made him nervous and queasy, forced to hide it all behind a stonewall mask. It felt foreign, his thoughts jumbled as he began to lose focus on it all.

‘There’s no way. It’s just work.. It’s just..’

It was a warm night in July and an unusually busy Friday evening at Bellagino’s, due in part to the ongoing festival at the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Fairy lights twinkled overhead in the outdoor dining area, each seat filled with couples and gaggles of laughing friends. Miguel almost didn’t recognize the place with it so full of life. The building had an unfamiliar glow to it that simply complimented it, turning it into the homely feel of a little Italian cottage. Turning his attention to the windows as he approached, he saw you, floating around tables with a smile on your face. His lips parted slightly as he watched you, glowing like an angel in the warm lights.

In your element, twirling to avoid guests with ease, plating food and drinks without spilling a drop. You moved with grace and poise, completely unbothered and confident. It was a complete parallel to how you acted when Miguel was there.

That’s when he felt it. A tugging at his chest and the tightening of his lungs as he held his breath. He could feel his heart thrumming as he stood there, starstruck. For the first time, it wasn’t just a subtle hum, it was a goddamn symphony. A cacophony of harmonious melodies blended together to form the tune playing behind his eyes as he gawked in awe. He couldn’t think straight, his own thoughts being muffled out and pulled to the back of his mind. Sweaty palms clenched into tight fists as he closed his eyes and tried to shake out the cotton filling his head.

‘Think O’Hara… Breathe dammit…’ he reminded himself.

A large hand brushed back loose curls as he inhaled slowly through his nose. He knew he couldn’t stand there staring at you all night like some love stricken fool. He forced himself to move, to draw closer to the siren that called his name without even knowing he was there. His knees buckled, faltering for only a moment as he approached the door. Pushing through, his nerves got the better of him for just a split second and his instincts slipped as his eyes merely tracked you throughout the bustling restaurant. Forgetting to duck his head like he usually did, the top of Miguel’s forehead smacked into the doorframe with a soft thud.

He winced, inhaling sharply as he stumbled inside for a moment. He grit his teeth, more so from annoyance rather than pain. He shut his eyes, hoping to drown out the throbbing at the front of his skull if he rubbed it hard enough. He was grateful that almost everyone else seemed too enveloped in their own mindless conversations to even notice he’d arrived.

Almost everyone.

Approaching Miguel, you looked up at him. His hulking frame would’ve been intimidating had it not been that he slouched a little as he held his head. For the first time since you met him, it made your eyebrows draw upward in concern.

“Sir, are you okay..?”

It took Miguel a moment to open his eyes, his scarlet irises glancing down at you. Slowly he took in the shape of you, nodding his head sheepishly as he swallowed. His hand fell away from his head as he tried to regain his composure. This had been the first time since your initial meeting that you’d spoken to him. Once again, that honey voice triggered the euphoric hum in the back of his mind. Once his gaze met your eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. They were dazzling and full of genuine concern for him. The kind of eyes that men write poems and hymns about. Sweet irises that he could swim in, but he feared that if he dove in, he’d never come up for air. He’d never seen eyes like yours before. So awestruck that the only response he could give you was a low hum.

You looked down, feeling your bravery caught in your chest. Your eyes darted down to your feet and you cleared your throat, trying to remember the usual script you ran through when a customer arrived.

“R-Right, well… Table for one..?” You asked sheepishly, reaching for a menu. For a moment, Miguel feels his heart stutter. All the confidence you just had somehow managed to seep away in his presence. The way you kept your gaze glue to the floor made him frown, biting the inside of his cheek gently. He could feel the tension rising, an awkward wall you were starting to build. For half a second, Miguel felt a twinge of panic wash over him. He looked at you, searching your body for an out, a way to make things better, to make you less afraid. He swallowed thickly, scrambling his brain to try and think of something to say to lighten the mood or even make you laugh.

“Does it look like I’ve got anyone with me?”

‘Fuck.’

It comes out flat and sarcastic, not charming or teasing as he meant for it to. He internally cringes at himself as he sees the way you retract from him.

“Oh… yeah… Sorry, sir.” You mumble out and begin to guide him to his usual spot. The broken tone of your voice feels like a punch to the gut. A twist of his innards that has him wishing he could turn back time. He’s never been this awkward or nervous before. Usually his callous behavior is intentional and pointed, but now he feels it just makes him look like an ass.

“I’ll be right back to take your order…” Soft spoken and sweet, you place the menu down and walk away. Once seated, he pinches the bridge of his nose in self frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out an annoyed sigh. He’s never been like this before, never been this much of a mess because of a woman. Usually his suave and charming nature takes over and he’s able to seduce anyone he damn well pleases, but for some unknown reason; you broke him. He groans quietly and shakes his head slowly, feeling the butterflies now pooling in his stomach.

‘Aye carajo, get a hold of yourself..’

It feels like his brain is on fire, criticizing every way the interaction went wrong. He feels his gut twist, pinching his nose with enough force that it starts to hurt and his knuckles turn white. The throbbing only continued as his frustration grew. His face practically morphs into a snarl as he sits and waits. Opening his eyes, he glares down at the menu before him, a pleather bound book with the edges peeling away. He tries to refocus his attention on literally anything else than his blundering attempt at conversation.

Miguel is left grumbling to himself when you return to his side. Silently you place a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge bobbing about the glass beside him. Fear beats quickly along side your heart as you wordlessly reach out your other hand, gently clutching a crude ice pack. It was nothing extraordinary, a little sandwich baggie filled with ice chips and wrapped loosely in paper towel. It’s placed on the table beside the water with care. Miguel eyes it for a moment. He feels his stomach twist again but this time its a different feeling. It flutters and it’s soft with smoother edges than before. His cheeks just hardly flush a soft pink as his features remain contorted into a grimace. Without turning his head more than two inches, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. Your eyes are once again glued to your feet, trembling hands reaching to the pen and notepad tucked into your apron. With your head down and your nose nearly buried to the paper of the little booklet, Miguel can’t see the heat that’s spread across your face.

“A-Are you ready to order..?” You squeak out in a voice hardly above a whisper.

Miguel swallows, clearing his throat as he lifts his head. The pink on his cheeks is beginning to darken as your gaze peers over your little notepad and into his crimson eyes. His face melts from frustration, his brows furrowing just a little as he stares back, trying to remember his words.

“No.. I.. Just the water is fine.” He manages to force out. His hands are absently pulling at the cheap white fabric tablecloth as he looks at you. He swears that if he could freeze time at this moment, he would. The way your gaze softens as you look at him, has him biting his tongue just hardly. The butterflies are flapping wildly about in his stomach. Miguel’s canines dig into the tender flesh as he tries to ground himself, distract himself from how pretty those lashes would flutter as he forced you to look up at him from your knees. Would you let him hold your face still while he pounds into you- he wonders.

Your eyes flit back down to your book and you nod your head.

“Y-Yes sir. If you need anything, j-just call for me.” You hold the little name badge pinned to your chest for him as if he hadn’t eyed it the first twelve times he came in to watch you work. With that, you turn on your heel and leave him. Scurrying to another table while Miguel is left merely watching.

The subtle throbbing beats against his head like a drum before he glances down at the icepack you brought over. It feels so tiny in his hand. He lets out a little groan as he presses the baggie to his forehead, relishing in the relief it just barely provides. He can’t help the smile halfheartedly pulling at the corners of his mouth as he sits there.

‘She really didn’t have to do that…’

But he hardly has a chance to bask in his appreciation when he hears it, just barely audible amongst the chatter.

“Aww c’mon sweet’art. I bet I could show ya a real good time.” The man drawls out, clearly drunk from the second pitcher of sangria he and his buddies were splitting. He’s got a toothy and sloshed grin spread across his face as his hand glides up the back of your thigh. You look mortified, eyes silently screaming for help.

Miguel feels his lip twitch as he rises up from his seat.

“S-Sir please stop..” You squeak out, too quiet for the pickled bastard to hear or care. His hand is pulling back, gearing up for a smack, when suddenly a wide tan palm wraps itself around his wrist. It’s grip is tight and overwhelming when Miguel yanks, nearly dragging the drunk out to the ground in the process.

“No la toques, pendejo.” Miguels spits with venom as he twists the man’s arm. The usual hum that played in your presence was washed out by his rage. No one should be allowed to touch you, especially not some wasted shithead. Gritting his teeth, Miguel has to remind himself that he’s in public. Eyes fly to watch the scene unfold. He grumbles lowly as the man cries out in pain before Miguel practically tosses him back into his seat. He scrambles, nearly falling out of his chair to get back from you and Miguel.

With parted lips, a little gasp escapes you. Miguel feels his conscience flooding in as he looks back at you. Wordlessly, he jerks his head towards the door and starts heading for the exit. His eyes are cold, commanding almost. He grumbles something out loud to Caparelli about leaving in Spanish as his grasp nearly tears the creaky little door off it’s hinges. His eyes trace over you once more before he turns his back on you and lets out a gruff, “C’mon.”

Sticking close behind, you slip out the door as he holds it open.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The night air is warm, the remnants of the summer heatwave still staining Nueva York. It’s mostly quiet aside from the drone of car engines as they pass by. You’re silently keeping pace with Miguel, feeling your chest rattle from the whole interaction. Frightened, confused, and over in a flash. It makes you ball your hands into tight little fists, frustration quietly bubbling up in your chest. In that moment, you froze, retracting into your shell in the hopes that you could avoid confrontation all together. You’re biting back tears as they prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mind is brewing with what ifs and how badly it could’ve gone when suddenly, his voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s low and sultry with the fleeting taste of a Spanish accent. You couldn’t really hear the words coming out of his mouth, too busy being lulled by the sound of him. You jerk your attention to him, eyeing his lips for a moment before forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Hm?” Is all you can manage.

“I said, do you live around here?” His voice cuts through, fully grounding you and bringing you back to the present.

“O-Oh.. yea. About five blocks thata way.” You tip your head to the left. “I can just walk.”

Miguel nods his head before starting to lead the way down 48th street. You open your mouth to protest his accompaniment but let the words die in your throat. Walking side by side with your head down, you could only let your thoughts wash over you again.

Miguel lumbered on the side of the concrete closest to the street, grumbling as he kept his eyes forward. Loathing boiled inside his stomach, frothing from his mouth in a string of Spanish curses and death threats.

“If I ever see that fucker again, I swear… Llevaré su piel como un abrigo.” He growled to himself, plotting and mentally preparing for the literal hell that he was going to drag that stranger through. His fists were clenched tightly at his side, burning white until he heard a soft sniffle. Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he turned his head to face you.

Your eyes were still glued to the sidewalk beneath you, tears rolling down ruddy cheeks despite how hard you tried to keep them from spilling. The quiet sounds you made were a result of the runny nose that accompanied your tears. It all just felt so overwhelming, so scary. In a moment of quiet and scarce vulnerability, you tried to be brave. But it was so so hard.

Miguel felt his heart sink in his chest. Thoughts of annihilation and revenge washed away. Softened eyes stared down at you silently as he tried to form the right words to say to you to make the pain and fear melt away. But he couldn’t. Miguel was all too aware of the fact that he lacked the necessary eloquence. It pained him to see you trying to bottle it all up. His teeth sunk into his cheek as he scrambled internally. Finally, he loosened his tightly balled fist, letting it hang limp.

Rough, large knuckles brushed up against the back of your dainty hand. The gentle ghost of a caress, hardly grazing your flesh, almost like he was afraid you’d shatter. Warmth radiated off his hand as once again, it swept across your skin, featherlight. Your head lifted, attempting to gaze up at Miguel, but by this time, he’d turned his head away from you in a shallow attempt to hide his growing blush. Whether it had been due to your tear-blurred eyes or your own volition, you stepped hardly an inch closer to the giant, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

The rest of the trek back to your shabby apartment was quiet, muted were the sounds of Miguel’s grumbling. They were drowned out by the sounds of your indistinct humming. It was nearly impossible to hear, but it was the only thing Miguel could focus on as the two of you passed through your neighborhood. Entering a large, ten-story building, Miguel was only able to remember where he was in the flickering yellow lights of the hall to your apartment door.

Standing before your apartment, he swallowed thickly. Palms sweaty and the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as you turned your back on him to unlock the door. You looked so small, so delicate, and so fucking pretty. He felt his heart race in his chest, nearly forgetting all together the events of nearly twenty minutes ago. Right now he just wanted to come inside with you and hold you in his arms. He wanted your body pressed against his chest, lulling him to sleep in the comfort of your bed. He wondered if those sheets smelled as sweet as you did, felt as soft to the touch. He tried to wondered if he’d prefer to rest his head amongst your pillows or your thighs, but he already knew the answer.

‘Please… please let me come in cariño… let me make you feel better… let me take care of you, just for tonight…’ he prayed to himself as he watched you open the door with caution.

Doe eyes stared up at him as his lips parted to speak. Just your gaze forced him mute. Rubbing the tears from your cheeks and smiling up at him with warmth and fondness, he thought he was going to fall to his knees right then and there.

“Thank you.. I-I really appreciate everything, sir.” You said gently, hardly above a whisper. It made Miguel savor your voice. The way it made his brain tingle and swim felt better than any liquor he’s ever had. He wanted to hear more of you, but more than anything he wanted to hear you say his name.

“It was no trouble at all. But please chula, from now on just call me Miguel…” He tried to offer the same warm smile you did but could hardly manage anything more than a sweet little smirk. Despite his expression though, you could see the light in his eyes. It was dull and flickering, but it was there, growing. You nodded your head and gave an airy half chuckle.

“Heh okay… Well then, good night… Miguel.” You spoke in the sweetest tone you could manage. Miguel felt a shiver travel down his spine. His cheeks flushed lightly and he swore he could feel his heart pounding behind his eyes. The way his name fell from your tongue made him weak and practically feral. For a moment he considered sweeping you off your feet and fucking you into the couch just so he could hear you say his name like that again. But instead he stood there, attempting to bite back his animalistic urges with his canines as you began to slip into your apartment. The door gently closed as he watched, standing there and thinking about all the ways he’d make you scream his name.

He tries to shake the thought loose but can’t. He can’t stop thinking about how sweet and obedient you’d be. How much you make his heart flutter and how crazy it drives him. Miguel feels a stirring in his chest, a queasiness that makes him feel sick for a moment as reality strolls back in. The fires of rage being stoked once more in your absence as he remembers what brought him to your apartment in the first place.

He can practically already taste blood on his tongue when he recalls the drunk from the restaurant. How terrified he made you, how something worse could’ve happened had Miguel not’ve been there. Through the haze of his anger he makes a decision, you’ll never be without protection again. He’ll always make sure you’re safe, constantly under the watchful eye of the family. Fuck if he could, he’d guard you himself, day and night.

No matter what or how, he’d keep you safe from the scum that roamed this city. He wouldn’t let the only pure thing in his life be tainted or taken away. Not again. God forbid anything did happen to you, Miguel would have to burn the whole city to the ground.

From that day forth, whenever he couldn’t watch over you himself Miguel would have one of his Spider’s watching over you. Jess or Ben would be the one’s usually sitting in an unmarked vehicle outside of Bellagino’s, stalking in the shadows to make sure you got home safe, reporting back to Miguel as he worked.

For a short while it satisfied him. That is until one night Jess reported she saw you opening the door for some friends, ushering them inside with glee as they carried bottles of wine and board games. Jess tried to explain it was fine, beyond normal even. But Miguel didn’t care. In fact he’d stopped listening to her the moment she said there was a man amongst the group of 4 that were permitted entry. Who the fuck was he? Why did he get to be so close to you? Jealousy washed over him, filling him to the brim.

‘It’s just for her protection…’ that��s what he told himself. Over and over again. Even when he had Peter install the little devices inside your house, while you were off at work. Miguel felt a tinge of guilt, sitting and watching you work with a smile on your face from his table. Meanwhile hidden surveillance cameras were being put in your bedroom, your kitchen, your bathroom, and your living room. It ate at him a little that he worried so much. But how could he not? He couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. This was for your safety, he knew better than to let you out of his sight. The last time he wasn’t watching carefully enough, it cost him… her.

No. He wouldn’t bury another person he cared about. Not when he had the power to do something about it this time. Not when you just started to warm up to him. You finally started to look him in the eye when he sat down at his usual spot. You finally started to smile at him and bless him with that angelic laugh. You started to loosen up and even stop and chat for a few minutes. Once on your break, you just sat and talked to him for the whole thirty minutes, telling him about your day and terrible jokes you thought he might like. All just to see him smile and laugh back at you. He couldn’t just let you slip away. Not when he knew what he’d do if he lost you.

As little as you knew it, you were holding his shattering mind together, keeping him from falling apart. If only you understood how much he needed you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Time never stops. It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going beating of hearts and whispers of hope that pray for a better tomorrow. With time came its companion, decay. A mysterious creature that made room in the world for new hope and potential. Miguel didn’t always enjoy time’s passage, nor did he adore it’s companion decay. But with the two, a third party marched, carrying a flag of promise and beauty. With time and decay, tread growth. A glorious and shining ray for tomorrow, growth lit a path for time, giving way for hope.

Everyday that he saw your glowing face, he could feel his heart beating and mending, little by little.

But Miguel was patient, slowly learning to accept time and the company it kept. He knew to bide his time and earn your trust. He knew that with time, you’d be his.

Part 3

Taglist

@whisperwispxx @eatally @moonvoidpng @unicornbabygremlin @chshiresins @iloveyouall234-blog @amber-content

#across the spiderverse #mafia #mafia au #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x you #yandere!miguel o’hara #stalker!miguel #stalker

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nocturnest · 30 days

Note

Heya sweets❤️

Im always so shy when asking for request 👉🏻👈🏻

I have this story in my head where the reader is Tangerines and Lemons Handler. Lemon adores reader. She does everything for them. Always fun and making jokes. Tangerine and reader have a little hate/banter relationship, but both have unresolved feelings for eachother.

And after one near death assignment, reader has to bring out her nursing skills. Stop the bleeding, stitching them back up etc. But reader is so frustrated with the both of them especially Tan. Because she cares for them and obviously loves Tan. And by almost loosing Tangerine brakes her composure and all her feelings come out.

Maybe fluff, maybe some nsfw?

Do with this whatever you like☺️

Have a wonderful day 🥰🫶🏻

hello my lovely friend! so sorry this took a while but i wanted to make sure i did it right! what a wonderful prompt - i love this idea! please enjoy and feel free to continue sending requests! 🥰

You loved the boys - you really did. In fact, it was hard to imagine a time when they hadn't been a part of your life, a constant presence that grounded you and brought both joy and exasperation in equal measure.

For five years now, you had been their handler, guiding them through missions, patching them up when they were injured, and providing a steady anchor amidst the chaos that seemed to follow them wherever they went. What had once been a professional relationship had slowly evolved into something far deeper - and when it came to a certain British fruit with a mustache, you found yourself unable to stay away.

You liked Lemon for his eccentricities and knack for always being able to sense people's intentions. It was remarkable how spot-on he could be on missions. You suppose you could thank his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine for that...

Lemon, with his eccentricities and uncanny ability to read people's intentions, was a constant source of amusement and admiration. You marveled at how spot-on he could be during missions, his insights often proving invaluable – a skill you jokingly attributed to his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine.

Just the other day you had happily entertained one of Lemon's rants about Thomas and Friends over earpiece for a good fifteen minutes just to see how long it would take for Tangerine to lose it. And he did as soon as you and Lemon started having a serious debate about whether or not Tangerine was a Gordon, to which Tangerine did not take kindly to. He insisted he was not anything near close to "that arrogant bastard of a train."

You could hear the utter frustration and offense in his voice, his mutterings of various curses, and you imagined how he must have looked all riled up - to the point that all you wanted was to see his face at that very moment.

Lemon was so honestly sweet - always playful. He always asked you about your day and remembered the smallest things about you. He also knew exactly what to do to push Tangerine's buttons, which you couldn't help but find amusing. Beneath his quirks was a true heart of gold, for he never failed to coax a smile out of you, no matter how bleak the circumstance.

And Tangerine - well, he was Tangerine. He was complicated, to say the least, and you couldn't imagine him as being anything else. Since the beginning, there had been this tension between the two of you - at first, the two of you were at each other's throats - swapping insults and cursing at one other. Lemon may have had to intervene on more than one occasion to get the two of you to snap out of it.

Something, changed though - not significantly but enough for you to notice. You suspect it had something to do with a very long-ass conversation Lemon had with Tangerine after a taxing mission that nearly cost them their lives. When you had picked the both of them up, Tangerine and Lemon had their raincoats covered in blood. For someone who was so vocal, so uptight, Tangerine was positively silent after that mission. He didn't insult you back and barely responded with anything other than one-word utterances - it was unnerving, concerning even.

You didn't like it. You didn't like seeing Tangerine so solemn, so hopeless. You were driving the car in utter silence and at some point Lemon had fallen asleep, or so you thought... Tangerine was in the passenger's seat beside you with a blank stare - he wasn't even looking out the window. No, he just looked straight on at the empty road ahead.

He had a cut on his forehead and a split lip, dried blood stains running down the side of his face. Without looking down, he was taking his golden knuckle-dusters on and off. You had half of a mind to reach out and steady his trembling hands as you were driving, but you were afraid perhaps of how he might react. And yet, despite all of this, you thought he looked as beautiful as you had ever seen him.

You called his name, cautiously and quietly. He didn't respond. You tried once more and he didn't give any impression that he had heard you. You had to do something. Anything to get him out of this stupor. So, maybe when you thought Lemon wasn't listening and had fallen asleep in the back of the car, you had started going off on some tangent about having finally read some of the novels Tangerine kept on going on and on about.

You mentioned his favorites: Wuthering Heights, The Stranger, Fahrenheit 451... Because if there was anything you knew about Tangerine, it's that he was passionate about classics to the point that he even quoted and analyzed fucking Dostoveksy in the middle of a kill on multiple occasions. Maybe the fact that you and him were both quite the book nerds actually made him all the more attractive to you.

As you continued to ramble about the novels you had read that Tangerine was so passionate about, the air in the car grew thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine.

You didn't dare look at him - part of you didn't really expect him to listen. So instead, you kept your gaze focused on the empty road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel as you spoke.

"I finally got around to reading 'Fahrenheit 451, you know," you began, your voice soft and measured. "I have to say, I can see why you're so taken with it. It's simply written yet so applicable to modern society and the dangers of censorship. It truly makes one think about what it would mean to live in a world without literature."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tangerine's head turn ever so slightly in your direction, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to process your words.

Emboldened by this flicker of response, you continued. "And I hadn't read The Stranger in a good while but it resonated with me particularly deeply this second time, Camus' exploration of existentialism and the human condition...I was drawn into Meursault's detached perspective, his ability to confront the harsh realities of life with such unflinching clarity."

A soft exhale, barely audible, escaped Tangerine's lips, and you felt your heart quicken its pace. You were reaching him, slowly but surely, pulling him back from the depths of whatever darkness had consumed him.

"But I think my favorite, at least so far, has to be Wuthering Heights," you continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"The way Brontë captures the rawness of human emotion, the intensity of love and loss – it's truly remarkable. And the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff - it's passionate," you said, your voice trailing off as you hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You could feel Tangerine's gaze on you, intense and searching, waiting for you to continue.

"Cathy and Heathcliff," you began again, your voice soft and contemplative. "They're... they're bound together by something... something powerful and all-consuming. Their love is - it's turbulent, chaotic, but it's also - undeniable."

This time, Tangerine's reaction was unmistakable. He turned his head fully towards you, his eyes seeking out yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His eyes were filled with an indescribable emotion and his whole focus was on you. You met his eyes only to avoid them.

"You read them," he murmured, his voice rough and laced with a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. "Of course I did," you replied, your tone gentle. "They're important to you, and I wanted to understand why."

Tangerine's eyes remained locked with yours, his gaze penetrating and unreadable. For a moment, he simply stared, seemingly struggling with the words that threatened to spill forth.

Finally, he spoke, Tangerine's tone measured but with the barest hint of softness bleeding through. "I didn't think you'd actually read them," he admitted, a crease forming between his brows. "Those books...they're important to me. More than just words on a page."

Tangerine turned away, his eyes focusing on some distant point beyond the windshield. You could see the muscle in his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. "I'm surprised you understood them so well," he murmured, the words seeming almost painful for him to voice.

There was a brief silence before Tangerine continued. "I've always had...difficulty...letting people in. Connecting on that deeper level." His fingers drummed against the door restlessly. "But you - you saw right through to the heart of those stories. You truly understood it."

Another pause, this one longer, more weighted. When Tangerine finally spoke again, his words were clipped, guarded - as if he were struggling to maintain that protective wall he'd carefully constructed around himself.

"Don't read too much into it though," he muttered gruffly, shifting in his seat. "They're just books in the end. It doesn't mean anything."

But his eyes told a different story as they flickered back towards you, full of unspoken longing and vulnerability he was so desperately trying to conceal. Your fingers on the steering wheel twitched, practically begging to reach to him, to take his hands in yours, to tell him that you understood. That he didn't have to keep up this facade around you.

For a fleeting second, you saw a glimpse of the real Tangerine - the one who lived and breathed those books, whose soul resonated with the turbulent depths of Heathcliff and Cathy's obsessive love. The one who felt everything so intensely that he was forced to cage those emotions, to push others away for fear of being consumed.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Tangerine straightened, clearing his throat roughly as he turned his attention back towards the empty road ahead. His walls were firmly back in place, that flash of vulnerability carefully tucked away.

"Just drive, Peach," he muttered, his voice now flat and devoid of any trace of the rawness you had witnessed mere seconds ago. "We've got a long way to go still."

After that incident, you and him went back to quarreling as usual though it was less heated, more like playful teasing. And you could have sworn Tangerine had started looking at you differently. Sometimes you'd find him gazing at you for a few seconds too long and when you gave him a questioning look back, he avoided your eyes.

Maybe - just maybe - you weren't so immune to giving into the tension between the two of you either. When you tended to the cuts and bruises he accumulated during missions, your touches perhaps lingered a beat too long, savoring the warmth of his skin and the subtle catch of his breath.

And Tangerine, for all his gruffness, could not entirely mask the softening of his features when your gazes met and held for those endless seconds. The pink dusting his sharp cheekbones whenever you aimed a teasing barb his way hinted at vulnerabilities he struggled to conceal behind his prickly exterior.

The friction between the two of you had become undeniable. Every snide remark, every heated debate about classical literature, seemed laced with unresolved tensions that threatened to combust at any moment.

Perhaps it was reckless to allow these flames to be stoked, you mused as you studied Tangerine's profile while he bent over the mission briefing. But there was a thrill in dancing along the precipice, in pushing the limits of how far you could go before that line was finally crossed.

Lemon's knowing glances whenever he sensed the charged atmosphere only fanned the flames further. That grin curving his lips made it clear he found humor in bearing witness to the escalating heat between his two companions. If anyone recognized the forbidden yearnings you each harbored, it was him. And was eager, practically praying for the two of you to get your heads out of your asses and realize your feelings for one another. And that time would come.

The mission had gone sideways in the blink of an eye. One minute they were making their way through the compound, and the next, a hail of gunfire erupted from all angles.

Your heart stopped when the frantic voice crackled over the comms. "Fucking hell - Peach! Tangerine's been hit and he's losing blood!"

Lemon's panicked tones sent ice flooding your veins. You scrambled for the extraction vehicle, hands shaking as you attempted to program the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Bile rose in your throat at the thought of losing him...of losing Tangerine.

What felt like an eternity later, the doors burst open and Lemon staggered inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Tangerine's bloodied form. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight - his pallid face, the crimson blossoming across his abdomen, soaking through the field dressings haphazardly applied.

"Oh god-" A garbled cry tore from your lips as you rushed forward, hands already working to strip away his tac gear.

Lemon made his way to the front of the vehicle as you were opening every med kit the back of the van contained for gauze and something to stop the blood. Lemon drove anxiously and way over the speed limit.

"Rheneas...you have to be Rheneas," he yelled, the words jumbled as he fought to remain calm. "Brave and resourceful, just like you. You can do this!"

You barely registered his nonsensical Thomas rambling as you focused on staunching the steady flow of blood. Observing the wound critically, you noticed that the bullet had gone straight through but shrapnel had been left behind. You had to start moving before Tangerine bled the fuck out.

Deep breaths, Peach.

“Tangerine,” you murmured, a quiver in your voice. He groaned in response but it seemed as though he was going in and out of consciousness. No. He would not die today.

You tried again, your voice more urgent, desperate, “Tangerine!”

Tangerine's harsh, wet breaths cut through the tense silence, each one a fight for life. His eyes fluttered open, fever-bright and struggling to focus on your face hovering above.

“I have to remove the shrapnel before I can stitch you up, alright? I need you to be strong for me.”

Your hand found Tangerine's, giving his calloused fingers a reassuring squeeze as you met his fever-glazed eyes. "I'm here, Tangerine. Just focus on me, okay?"

He managed the barest dip of his chin in acknowledgment, jaw locked tight against the waves of agony rippling through his battered frame. Steeling yourself, you grasped the forceps with a steadiness that belied the frantic gallop of your pulse.

"Deep breaths," you murmured, the desperation yet softness in your voice slipping out unbidden as your focus narrowed to a laser point.

With deft precision, you delved into the ragged bullet wound, probing for the fragmented pieces of shrapnel lodged amid the tattered flesh. A guttural groan tore from Tangerine's clenched teeth as you worked, his grip on your hand verging on crushing.

"That's it, just hold onto me," you coached, willing every ounce of strength into the man beneath your hands. "You're doing so well, Tangerine. I'm right here."

Tangerine's panting breaths had grown shallow and rapid, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of agony. You watched in rapt focus as a sheen of sweat bloomed across his brow, dampening the tawny strands that stuck in matted clumps to his ashen skin.

Then, with a final twist of the forceps, you carefully pulled free the last insidious fragment. Tangerine arched from the floor, a hoarse bellow tearing from his very core as he rode out the finality of the searing torment.

"Fuckin' hell!"

His hand clenched around yours with crushing force, fingertips digging desperately into your flesh as if you were his only tether in that moment of anguish.

"I've got you, I've got you," you found yourself chanting over the litany of his ragged gasps and Lemon's frantic reassurances over the comms. "You're okay, Tangerine. You're going to be okay."

At last, the tension bled from his corded frame as his body slumped back in total, wrecked exhaustion. His eyes slitted open, still burning with fever but now hazy with shock and blood loss. Tangerine's chapped lips parted soundlessly as his gaze found and locked onto yours with lazer-focus.

For an endless heartbeat, he simply held your stare, a thousand unspoken sentiments and emotions bleeding across the jagged planes of his face.

"Peach..."

The solitary word was little more than a broken rasp, rough and guttural. Yet it contained so much meaning - apologies and promises were woven into that single syllable that hung in the air between you.

Then Tangerine's eyes slipped shut once more as he surrendered at last to oblivion, his hand falling limp yet warm in your grasp. You stared at his deathly still features unblinking, his name echoing like a sacred prayer in your thundering pulse.

"Hang on, Tangerine," you pleaded, voice cracking as you rapidly worked the needle and thread through the ragged wound. "Please - please don't leave me."

Fumbling with the med kit, you quickly threaded a curved needle, hands surprisingly steady despite your inner turmoil. At the front of the vehicle, Lemon continued his soothing chants, something about diesel engines and Sir Topham Hatt, but the words were white noise in your ears. All that mattered was the fragile thread of life you fought so valiantly to preserve through each meticulous stitch. At last, the final knot was tied off and you sagged with sheer physical and emotional exhaustion.

Only then did your own harsh sobs spill forth, harsh and visceral. Burying your face in Tangerine's sweat-damp hair, you clung to him with everything you had, chest heaving with the force of your cries. Tears traced rivers down your cheeks, baptizing his skin with your anguished relief that he yet lived.

At some point Lemon appeared beside you, the door to the van wide open. His soothing hand smoothed circles across your shuddering back as you rode out the storm of emotion. His voice a soft murmur, words of solace about how you were Sir Handel, the reliable, brave-hearted one.

Somehow, Lemon had managed to coax you into helping him carry Tangerine into the safe house. How - you weren't sure because you were in quite a state. And despite Lemon's insistence upon you getting some rest, you swore that you wouldn't leave Tangerine's bedside until he woke up - at which Lemon gave a knowing glance.

At some point, utterly drained, you must have slipped into an exhausted slumber slumped at Tangerine's side. Because the next thing you were aware of was his calloused fingers brushing feather-light against your damp cheek.

You blinked awake groggily to find Tangerine's intense gaze drinking you in as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. His split lips curved in the barest hint of a smile - tired yet impossibly tender.

And that was when the floodgates broke anew. With a harsh sob, you flung yourself against him, face buried in the solid warmth of his neck as you clung with fierce desperation. He was alive - he was alive and with you still.

Tangerine's strong arms enveloped you, holding you impossibly close as his injured body would allow. His lips brushed your hairline in a whisper of a kiss.

"I'm here, love," he rasped, the endearment somehow freighted with a thousand unspoken vows and emotions. "I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Tangerine cradled you against his chest, his fingers tenderly stroking the tear-streaked paths along your cheeks. Each brush of his fingertips was a reassuring caress, a silent vow that he was truly there - battered yet blessedly alive.

"Shh, it's alright now," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion but impossibly gentle. "I've got ya."

You nodded tremulously against the solid warmth of his neck, inhaling the achingly familiar scent of gunpowder and sandalwood that was distinctly him. Tangerine's arms tightened fractionally, and you melted deeper into his embrace, drawing solace from the steady thrum of his heart against your cheek.

For a while, the rest of the world seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the rise and fall of his breaths, the reassuring metronome of life woven between your entangled forms.

When at last you drew back enough to meet his gaze, the corners of Tangerine's eyes had softened with an emotion you realized now you'd seen flickering there for longer than you cared to admit - a profound depth of feeling he'd never allowed himself to truly acknowledge until this moment.

His thumb traced the delicate curve of your lower lip with a touch so reverent it stole the very breath from your lungs. "You're something else, ya know that?" The words were little more than a hoarse rasp but held a world of unspoken meaning.

Unable to find your own voice past the tidal wave of emotion surging within, you simply leaned into his touch. This earned you the ghost of a smile, more felt than seen, as Tangerine's fingers slipped into the strands at your nape to cup your head with achingly tender possession.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he drew you towards him until your foreheads rested flush, sharing the same tremulous breaths in the scant space between your parted lips. His eyes slipped closed, seemingly savoring this suspended intimacy in which all masks had fallen away, leaving only the exquisite vulnerability of surrender.

"Tangerine..." you breathed his name like a prayer, pouring every ounce of yearning and relief into that solitary utterance.

His lashes fluttered open at the sound, eyes blazing with an intensity that seared straight through to your soul. Then, with the barest tilt of his head, Tangerine closed that last distance and sealed his mouth over yours in a kiss softer than down yet more searing than any brand.

The world around you seemed to come to a halt as you surrendered to the achingly sweet brush of his lips, to the unbearable tenderness of hands cradling you as if you were the most precious thing on Earth. This was a kiss transcending mere physical desire - it was an awakening, a benediction, a binding of your very essence in that single searing moment of connection.

When at last you parted, foreheads still pressed together, Tangerine's fingers traced idle patterns along the pulse point beneath your jaw in silent worship. His eyes shone with naked vulnerability and something deeper, more profound - the promise of an emotion that would be reckless for either of you to put a name to...not just yet.

But in that moment, no words were necessary. The simmering glances, the heated banter, the pushing of boundaries over the years...it had all led you both inexorably to this point of transcendence.

Lemon's soft chuckle from across the van was enough to shatter the spell momentarily. Catching your eye, he offered a warm, knowing smile - the expression of someone bearing witness to the inevitability that had been unfolding between you and Tangerine from that very first moment of friction.

"Took you two long enough," was all he said, but you heard the oceans of meaning in his affectionate tone.

You laughed wetly in response, reaching out a hand in a silent gesture of inclusion that had Lemon rising to join you both without hesitation. He sat beside you both, grinning as you rolled your eyes at him. Resting your head against Tangerine's shoulder, you allowed your eyes to drift closed in solemn contentment.

Lemon speaks up, a thoughtful expression upon his face, "You know I still think Tangerine's a Gordon - bossy and stubborn..."

Tangerine scowls at that, "I'll have ya know that I am nothing like that fucking cunt-"

"No - I think you are," you begin, smiling cheekily, and Tangerine looks at you, tired to be sure, but with narrowed eyes and slight amusement.

Tangerine opened his mouth, no doubt to protest your cheeky comparison, but you laid a finger across his lips, effectively silencing him.

"Just listen," you murmured, eyes sparkling with impish mirth. "Gordon may be pompous at times, but he's also powerful, regal, depended on by everyone on Sodor."

Sliding your hand to tenderly cup Tangerine's jaw, you held his inscrutable gaze as you continued. "You're our Gordon, Tangerine. Gruff and uncompromising on the outside, but with a core of integrity and fortitude that keeps us all pushing forward, no matter what."

Lemon nodded sagely beside you. "She's right, you know. Why d'you think I give you such a hard time?" He flashed that mischievous grin. "Got to keep that ego of yours in check."

Tangerine scoffed, but you caught the barely perceptible crinkling at the corners of his eyes - the ghost of a smile he couldn't quite suppress. Leaning in, you brushed the faintest whisper of a kiss across the corner of his mouth, savoring the rough rasp of his mustache.

"Don't worry, Mr. Gordon," you teased lowly. "We all know there's a big softy beneath that gruff exterior."

A low rumbling sound akin to a contented purr vibrated from deep within Tangerine's chest as he nuzzled his nose against your temple. "Keep that cheek up and you'll see just how soft I can be, darlin'."

The heated undertone in his gravelly timbre raised a delicious frisson along your skin. You bit your lip, holding back a breathless giggle at his not-so-thinly veiled innuendo.

"Well now, I do believe that's my cue to make myself scarce," Lemon piped up, winking broadly as he levered himself up with a dramatic groan. "You two kids have fun. But not too much fun - we've got that briefing at 19:00 sharp."

His departure was punctuated by a rude hand gesture from Tangerine, which only made Lemon's wheezing laughter echo more loudly. You watched him go with a fond shake of your head, savoring the warmth and levity he'd brought to the tender moment.

Then you turned your full attention back to Tangerine, trailing light fingertips along the stark lines and cuts that mapped his beloved face. His gaze caught and held yours, open and vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before - the mask utterly discarded.

"So...Mr. Gordon," you murmured, lips curving. "What shall we do while we've got some privacy?"

Tangerine's hand caressed your jaw, slowly bringing your foreheads together with unexpected gentleness. When at last he spoke, his deep baritone caressed your very soul.

"How about you tell me another story about your favorite trains? I could use a refresher on just why Gordon's supposed to be so bloody remarkable."

You laughed then, bright and unfettered, at the unexpected softness cloaking his rough-hewn edges. Throwing your arms around him, you held on tightly, your face in his neck, all awash with a sense of rightness and belonging that you'd struggled to find for far too long.

@kpopgirlbtssvt @little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kiss-me-cill-me @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @spookyspecterino @liukangsgirl @azureseacloud @pretty-little-mind33 i really hope you guys enjoy!

#bullet train #tangerine #bullet train movie #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine fanfiction #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #x reader #reader insert #tangerine fic #tangerine x you #tangerine fluff

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 month

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hii honey!! hope it’s as good as we talked about. you’re very welcome, glad you liked it!! I love dad tan sm it’s actually concerning. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

sorry had to repost it, when I uploaded it, it completely disappeared from my dash??? @j23r23

NEW ADDITION.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 431

Expanding on family is something both you and Tangerine always knew you wanted. And now, sitting in your hospital bed with a newborn, you knew you had got your wish.

"Mum, mummy," Mandy calls, running into your hospital room, Uncle Lemon tailing close behind. "Where is she?" she excitedly asks, jumping onto the bed beside you. "Can I see her?"

"Yeah, in a minute, poppet. Daddy's changing her," you reply, stroking over her face. "I missed you," you kiss her forehead, turning to look at Lemon standing beside you.

"So proud of you," he says, leaning over to kiss��your cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," you smile. "Thank you for looking after her."

“It's really no… problem,” he goes quiet, watching his brother and new baby niece enter the room. "Oh my god, she's tiny," he whispers, looking between you and Tan, his eyes widening - his expression full of admiration.

"She is," Tangerine whispers in response, too afraid of scaring her. "She's beautiful."

He walks closer, joining the rest of his family around you on the bed. He takes a seat at the edge, sitting beside your knees and his daughter - his new baby one cradled in his arms.

"Can I see her?" Mandy asks, perching higher to get a better look.

Tangerine nods, tilting the newborn slightly. "Yeah, but no touching just yet. You probably have sticky hands," he scolds lovingly, playfully narrowing his eyes. "Bet you've had lots of sweets with Lem, hm?"

"Do you want to hold her?" you ask, looking at Lemon, watching the trance-like focus he has on your new baby.

He looks between you and Tan for confirmation, the pair of you nodding with a soft smile. Tangerine stands and extends his arms towards his brother, placing his new niece in his loving hold.

"Oh my god," he whispers, his voice almost fragile. "She's beautiful."

Tangerine pats his twin's back before moving to stand by your side, his hand reaching for yours.

"What's her name?" he finally asks, his gaze concentrated on the little girl.

You and Tan turn to look at each other, your eyes knowing as you silently agree on the name you've spoken about.

"We named her after her uncle," you say softly, grip tightening in your lover's hand. "Mel... just like Lem," you smile, watching his eyes almost swell.

"No," he shakes his head, tone like that of disbelief. "No, you didn't."

Tangerine nods, his features tight like he's trying to pull himself together.

Lemon looks down at her, his bottom lip wobbling. "Welcome to the family, little Mel."

IVE LOOKED THROUGH SO MANY IMAGES ON PINTEREST OF DADS WITH BABIES TO FIND THE PERFECT IMAGE (had no luck) AND IM NOT OKAY. ITS DONE SOMETHING TO ME

#j23r23 #tangerine #tangerine x reader #dad tangerine #tangerine fluff

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zikkytheblicky · 4 months

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ofcc!! srry this is late.

☆ for my ml, angel anon.

(NON-BLACK PEOPLE DNI. THE SLUR IS USED MULTIPLE TIMES)

⊹content warnings⊹

(don't scroll past this, it's important since i changed up gojo n’ geto + readers attitude 😃)

- both gojo and geto blasian so dont be surprised if you hear suguru’s racist comments and satoru and suguru js speaking ghetto ☠️..

-feminine male reader- anon didnt specify but id they want me to change this i will make a separate post for them 🫶🏾!!

-black reader cuz angel anon is black.

-not smut nor fluff.. i forgot if this type of stuff is called lemon or lime! sorry 😭💓.

-reader gets kinda aggressive im ngl to you like he did not take gojos little antic lightly

-kinda made reader gojo n suguru ghetto. idk i didnt think ts with much thought

-gojo tries to get his lick back, forgetting you were a real 🥷🏾 despite being feminine. he needs to stop playing with m!reader fr

-you’re very spoiled because i’m a SUCKERERR for spoiled reader x jjk character.

-this is not proofread i’m so sorry 😭!! + i did this like at 11-4 or sum

-sadly anon didn’t specify if they wanted top surgery reader or not so to be safe i’m just gonna say he does!!

-use of you/your pronouns except for when gojo is yapping/complaining to you’re brattiness to getou.

-no sourcerer au.

-rich gojo (SHOCKING 😨)

a/n: i hate this piece it sounds so tacky 😭..

♡︎NOT CAPITALIZED ON PURPOSE !!

to say you weren’t usually bratty is an understatement— it rarely happens unless you’re joking or you’re being bratty towards someone else not gojo.

it all happened first, when gojo took you to get your nails done and you didn’t give him your signature move for when he gives you something you want— pulling on his collar/tie and kissing on his cheek along with a sweet, “thank you satoru ! i love you! see you later!” or something along those lines— you instead give him a mere glance and a dry, bored “bye, gojo.” before walking over to your bestfriend(s) who were also getting their nails done. and by the way you were giggling into your palm when you thought satoru left shows you were trying to get him riled up.

satoru thought it was cute ,

at first. then it started getting him annoyed and a bit triggered.

and what does he do when he doesn’t agree with something you do?

…

obviously don’t tell you about it and instead goes to bother his best friend- suguru- about it instead.

“he’s been acting so bratty suguru. i remember when i got him his favorite color of glittery roses and all he did was say a dry response like, “oh thanks, gojo.” HE DIDN’T EVEN SAY SATORU OR A PET NAME RAGGHH” satoru screamed out into his phone microphone, his eyes puffy from all the fake crying he did earlier.

“don’t you have work to do? also he’s just going through a phase satoru, you’ll live.” suguru said dryly, the sound of the clicking of a keyboard and the sounds of a pen being smoothly dragged across a paper filling satoru’s apple headphones.

“you wouldn’t understand suguru..” satoru whined, blinking his bright blue eyes at the camera. His pouting lips sucking up the last bit of juice from his drink.

“all you have to do is punish him y’know?” suguru muttered, he shuts his book staring at satoru with a disgusted face. “Ew . stop pouting your lips while making fuckin sucking motions you look like a monk.” suguru sniffed, grabbing his bonnet and putting his hair up.

“i dont wanna hurt himmmm-“ satoru whined, ignoring suguru’s racist comment.

“not like that, durdur.”

satoru could practically hear the roll of geto’s eyes as he saw the younger dark skinned man pick up his phone and turn off his camera- most likely about to get ready for bed- it was 11 am after all.

“in a sexual way, nigga.” suguru mumbled out, the sounds of crinkling sheets flowing in and out of satoru’s ears nicely.

“oh my god… suguru you mastermind.” gojo smirked, grabbing his macbook and opening it swiftly.

“jesus christ what are you gonna do, satoru?” suguru asked with a sigh, rubbing his temple soothingly- he sounded so tired of gojo’s antics.

“ight so the plan is..”

it is late. you just got home from an interview of what life is like being satoru gojo’s husband— you hate those types of reporters. instead of worrying about what the content of your creator was, they worried about your status. oh, how annoying they are.

you kick off your jordans, rubbing your eyes gently- thankfully you didn’t put on any eyeliner.

you head into the first kitchen on the first floor, went into the pantry and took out a fruit snack before you head upstairs- when you were pulling up into your driveway all of gojo’s cars were in his drive so you know he is home.

i’m surprised he isn’t cuddling up on me already.. You thought with a snort, twisting your curls in boredom.

your curls bounce as you skip your way up the carpeted stairs, entering you and gojo’s shared room.

“satoru-.”

there, you say your husband in a thin, silky robe, nike pro boxers on, his 24 carat gold stud earrings glistening in the low light the seeped into the room, a thin 24 carat gold necklace, and slides on. he was at his desk, typing away on his phone, he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest.

the albino haired man lazily turned over to you, a bored look on his face though you could see a faint smirk on your husband’s face.

what is this nigga smirking for ? you thought with a scoff, your slippers making loud noises as you walk over to him.

“oh. hi, ‘mn’.” satoru’s tone was bored and disinterested, he went back onto his phone and started typing quickly. and he had such an excited expression, a ghost of a smile on his lips like he was trying to hide the fact that he was more interested in whoever he was texting instead of you.

and that pissed you off. like who the fuck is this nigga talkin too that catches his attention more than you? his boyfriend ?

that damn phone i'm about to throw that shit.

“satoru.”

no answer.

“satoru?”

no answer again. who the fuck was this negro on the phone with?

“SATORU-“ you yelled, pulling his ear out from his bonnet- being careful not to pull his earring out. sure, you were annoyed at him but you aren’t going to hurt him.

“what the fuck- what? damn.” gojo groaned, putting his phone screen to his chest with an annoyed glare.

who the fuck does he think hes talking too?

“nigga who do you think you’re talking to? i’m not the one stop trippin’.” you crossed your arms, releasing satoru’s ear.

“what did i even do?” satoru responded too calmly- the fucker had a visible smirk on his face too.

silence .

silence is what you “responded” with before smashing your lips with satoru’s, grabbing his white dreads and rubbing his scalp gently- completely opposite from your prior action.

satoru’s tongue licked almost every corner of your mouth, tasting the bitter vodka taste left in your mouth.

you both pulled away with a string of spit following each other's mouths.

“don’t dish out the heat if you cannot take the heat back, darling~!” satoru purred out, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you into his lap.

you tsked in response, resting your head on his neck.

and maybe later that night satoru punishes you by forcing you to cockwarm him for an hour straight.

(you failed after 10 minutes.)

ts is short asl ik but like 🙁

#male reader #x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #ftm reader #black male reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #jjk x male reader #jjk

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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bad shoulder

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni! (mxf, f receiving, nothing crazy) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

a/n: this is dedicated to and requested by @lemon-world1 who’s birthday it was a few days ago IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE but it is here! i hope you had an amazing day, and i really hope this is what you wanted!!!! sending so much love to you. its been a while since i just wrote a lil frank thing and damn i missed it okay bye.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You got a second?” Frank Castle’s familiar head pokes around the corner of your tent, traces of dried blood still caked in his short hair.

“Always for you.” You sing out, and he smiles, the sight sending warmth all the way through you. You turn to face him, and he isn’t shy about the way he looks you up and down, brown eyes trailing down your body before he remembers himself and focuses elsewhere. You always manage to get at least a little flustered when he comes in— especially when he’s all happy and smiling. He’s impossible not to want, and living on a base in the middle of a battlefield, there’s not a whole lot to do around here but sit and wait for him to show up.

It had been a long day, like it always was. You hadn’t even seen the sun rise before you were called in, soldiers that were never fully recovered still nursing old, aggravated injuries from whatever they’d been doing for the past 12 hours. From bad knees to wasted tendons and shattered bones, sometimes there wasn’t a lot you could do but make them as comfortable as possible and take away some of the pain, even if it was temporary.

Frank could come in and stand in the corner without saying a word and it’d make your day. It was stupid, but it was the truth. He just had that effect on you. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, he just managed to surge adrenaline through you at the sight of him— you’d nearly forgotten your work the second he stepped in.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to finish up and then I can help you out.” He nods and thanks you again, and you busy yourself with papers you don’t remember pulling out, trying your hardest to slow your racing heart down to an acceptable rate.

When you turn back to him, he’s already taken his shirt off, sitting with his legs over the side of the table. He’s so tall his boots still plant firmly on the ground, and you know it’s ridiculous— you know, but there’s something about the way he’s just so big—

“Your shoulder still bothering you?” Your brain manages to form words that make sense, while your heart rate is still flying uncomfortably close to a heart attack as he shrugs his shoulders. He rolls them out, each muscle defined and contracting with the movement, and your hands clench at your sides.

“Yeah. Gotta carry some of the packs for the medic on our squad, but it’s fucking killing me.” He rolls his neck next, but with the movement he winces. His eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shudders— the sight switching you from a fumbling mess to a professional in an instance. You know Frank— if he’s coming to you for help, he must be in some serious pain.

“Can’t someone else take the weight? I could write a report, let the sargent know?” You move behind him, the definition of each muscle practically shimmering under the full light of your tent. You peek over his shoulder, and he angles his head just so you can see the genuine surprise in his face.

“You can do that?”

“I’m not just here to hang out with you, you know. I do have a job here.” You laugh, and you can see his body slump a little as he joins you.

“I didn’t mean it like that— but nah. It’s okay. Coopers still got that bug leg, so I just gotta get this fixed.” Typical of Frank, but you’d probably write the report up anyways. It wouldn’t hurt, and Frank would never admit to anyone but you that the pain was genuinely bothering him.

You were the only person he seemed to let himself be vulnerable with, show any kind of weakness with. You’d seen him around base, and knowing what a pissing contest it is out there, it didn’t surprise you that when he found a moment of peace, it didn’t take a a lot for him to open up. You try to tell yourself it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about showing you up like he does everyone else around here, but you can’t help the part of your mind that wanders to the possibility that he might just like your company. Finds it easy to trust you and let his guard down.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? Work the same place as last time?” Once you get confirmation, your hands drift over the familiar position, but as soon as you apply pressure he sucks in a sharp breath. “That hurts?”

“It’s fine.” He says through his teeth.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, Castle. Job, remember?” He laughs again, but you can tell he’s still pulling away from you. “It’s okay. We can work up to that. Tell me what happened today.”

“Same old. You know how it— oh, fuck.” He grunts when you dig your fingertips into a spot that you know is connected to his old injury. “How it is.”

“Lay down.” He moves slowly— too slow to be in any kind of working order. You try to take the pressure off his shoulder as he turns to lay face down, but he’s still holding himself up and favouring one side. When he’s finally flat, you start softly, kneading your hands in slow circles around the connecting muscles. You listen to the sounds he makes— low grunts of either pain or pleasure, but both of them send butterflies fluttering in your stomach like no one else.

You start to span your hands down his back, letting the palm of your hand apply more pressure the further away from his shoulder you get. He sighs deeply, and after a few minutes he’s gone pliant under your touch. His head rolls to one side when you drift your hands up to his neck, another low groan escaping from somewhere in his chest.

When he’s finally relaxed, you press further. You check in as your hands slide along the base of his shoulder blade, and you’re only met with a gruff keep goin’ before you return to your original spot. He sighs, shifting closer to your side of the table, and the warmth of his skin touching you in all kinds of places has you blinking rapidly, your vision starting to go fuzzy.

Keeping your mind on the task at hand, you manage to kill a few more minutes like this; gentle circles and soft touches before you decide he’s ready to move.

“You still with me?” You break the silence, and he just huffs like you’ve woken him up. He still moves slowly when he gets up, but there’s no pain there. No— he was just relaxed. Tired, probably, but relaxed. “It’s feeling better than last time. You’ve been doing those stretches I told you about?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands return to his shoulder and apply more pressure. He leans into the touch, head falling forward and sighing again. You ignore how much the response made your head swim.

“Everyday?”

“Yes, ma’am.” God— he was gonna kill you.

“And no more of those sandbag throws, yeah? Or those weighted pull ups?” When you don’t get an answer, you shake him with your hands. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep.”

“M’not. I’m ignoring the question.” You laugh, your hands stilling on his shoulder as you feel the muscle movement ease entirely. “I gotta keep my reputation up, or the new guys get cocky.”

“God forbid— because you are the picture of humble.”

“Damn right.” He leans back slightly, his back brushing against your chest. He doesn’t move when he feels how close you are, and though your hands aren’t on him anymore and the session is clearly over, you don’t move either. “Missed seein’ you.”

“You don’t have to rip your shoulder out of its socket to come see me, you know.” He’s facing straight forward, but every word you say has him shuffling further and further back into you.

“You sayin’ you wanna see me outside here?” He says softly, his head turning ever so slightly towards your own.

“Maybe.” You want to take the words back as soon as you’ve said then, but then he surprises you by turning suddenly, looking you right in the eye.

Your heart stops. Time stops, practically. You know you shouldn’t do this. You need to draw a line in the sand, tell him to move back. To look forward. To leave, even. You were at work, and he was just a… well. He wasn’t just another client— and that was the fucking problem.

He was so close to you, every short breath he took was loud in your ear. You didn’t have to bend to be face to face with him, not with how straight he’s sitting and how fucking close he is. You were at the perfect height to indulge all those fantasies you shouldn’t have, should never act on but God did you want to.

He turns even more, rotating so his chest facing you and his nose brushes against your own. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter closed in anticipation— it was too late to pull away. He was too tempting and he was right there. So close to you, no longer at arms length, and so when he brings one gentle hand to the side of your face, you don’t even think about pulling away.

Your heartbeat was in your ears, sounds of the outside floating away until all you could hear was the pounding of your anxious heart and Franks low, shuddering inhale. Your eyes dare to flutter open for just half a second, and you can see his own flitting over your face— searching for something. Rejection, anticipation, something that he was looking for, but he either finds it or he doesn’t, because whatever it was is enough to have him leaning just a slight inch forward and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s so slow you nearly faint. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, and his other hand comes to your hip, drawing you in to press against his warm skin. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, and your mouth opens, wanting to drink him and this moment in as much as possible.

He tastes like dirt and blood, and it’s so fucking addicting that your tongue tangles with his for another taste. He kisses you softer than you imagined, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. You try to bend closer, your hands sliding up into his cropped hair and sealing his mouth to yours. The groan of approval you get is enough for him to lose a little bit of that control. He groans your name into your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. When he groans again your feet leave the ground, Frank hauling you up onto the small table in one swift movement, putting you on your knees next to him.

His mouth never leaves yours in the shuffle, hand tangled in your hair as he gets a little rougher— hungrier for a deeper kiss. The need makes your head spin, and his free hand hooks under your legs to pull you across him, your legs naturally falling to either side of his muscles thighs.

You moan instantly at the feeling, Frank pushing your hips down to connect with his own. Your arms hook lazily around his neck, his own roaming from your hips up and down your sides. He’s languid with the movements, content to take his time to feel your body, fingers slipping under your shirt where goosebumps follow in his wake wherever he touches you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans into you, and you shudder when his hips buck upwards. It’s almost like he’s encouraging it, wanting you to use him like this, hearing the way your breathless moans get higher and higher every-time he does it. “You like that?”

You can’t form a reply, just nodding as your head rolls to the side. His lips drop down, scorching heat under your jaw and down your neck. You can feel the cool kiss of his teeth as they drag lightly against your pulse point, and at the same time Frank grinds his hips up again. The sensation hits you like a truck, and you’re sighing out his name like a song in the next second.

“Oh, Frank.” You bury your head in the crook of his neck, and he hums in response and repeats the movement. He knows just where to roll your hips, the rough fabric of his pants creating the perfect friction, and a few more minutes like this and you’d be cu—

Three loud knocks on the door nearly make you scream in surprise and frustration.

“Hey, you in there? Any chance you got a couple minutes before rollcall? Need you to work your magic on this knee.” Fucking hell. You knew that voice, and it wasn’t one you could dismiss.

You were panting so hard you couldn’t reply right away, and Frank was just staring at you. His eyes were blown wide— not even blinking as he gripped the side of the table, knuckles white with restraint.

“Y-yep! Just a sec!” You scramble, trying to put yourself back together while Frank sits there, unmoving. You manage to get behind him, throwing Franks shirt at him just before the officer walks in and gets an eyeful of Franks painfully obvious boner. “Colonel Fields! I’m just finishing up with Castle, then I can help you out.”

“Sounds good.” The older man walks into the room, taking a seat in your office chair and nodding at Frank. “Lieutenant.”

You seem to have found your footing a little quicker than Frank, jabbing him in the back to prompt a fucking reply.

“C-Colonel. Ow.” He sucks in a breath as you dig your hands into his lower back pretending to do something productive, but then he sighs and drops his head when you ease up.

He’s as taut as ever, but you go easy on him considering what just happened. What… what did just happen? One second you were joking with him, laughing like friends, and the next you were kissing him. More than that— fuck, you probably would have let him have you right here on the table if he had kept going.

There’s another low, drawn out groan from Frank, and the sound has you pressing your thighs together. It’s the same one he breathed through your kiss when you were on top of him— and from the pained grunt that follows it, he’s remembering it too.

“You alright there, Lieutenant?” Colonel Fields calls to Frank, and you don’t know what his face looks like right now, but clearly it’s not hiding anything very well.

“Fine. Good. I’m gonna— I think I’m good.” He’s off the table in a second, slipping out from your practically outstretched arms.

“I’ll only be a second, if you need to—“ He was already shaking his head before you finished your sentence. Did he not want… Jesus, did he not want to finish what you started as badly as you do? He was walking straight for the door.

“All good. Thanks. I’m— good. I’m good.” He says, not looking you in the eye, and then he’s gone, leaving both you and Colonel Fields confused, and you a little cold.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally drag your body to your room, you feel like you’ve been hit by a freight train. You’ve had long days before, but this one is so much more draining. It’s like your heart has been wrung out and shoved back into your chest, and now you just have to walk around with this squished thing in your body that refuses to work properly.

Yes, you were dramatic. But you had a right to be! Frank had— well, he’d done all that, only to run out of the tent and disappear for the entire day. It’s not like you expected flowers and a proposal, but he was outright ignoring you.

Not so much as a text— no looks in the hallway, nothing. Even when he’d usually catch you for lunch, something that would have been ordinary and in his schedule, he wasn’t there. He could just be caught up with something, but your mind couldn’t help but wander to the possibility that you’d jumped the gun or read the room wrong.

You fell backwards onto your bed, the air rushing out of your lungs in a giant whoosh. You’d been harbouring feelings for Frank for so long, and you’d done so well at keeping them in check and at bay, no matter how many flirty smiles and sweet comments he made. But one moment of weakness— one look too long and too close was all it took for you to crack and have your entire heart and career shatter in one go.

Then you hear it— three soft but sure knocks on your door. When you swing it open, you don’t know if your surprised or expectant.

“Frank?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You gonna let me in?” You hesitate for just a moment, worried what he’s going to say. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Please.”

You watch him shiver in front of you, and it’s only then you look down and see he’s just wearing boxers and the same shirt from this morning, as well as his combat boots, untied with no socks. You just step out of his way and hurry him inside, noting the snow piled up at your door and how late it must be considering the sun had long disappeared.

“Fucking hell. Its fuckin’ cold.” He says through gritted teeth, and you still haven’t said a word, but hand him a towel so he can dry off the fallen snow resting in his short hair. “Thanks.”

“Why aren’t you wearing more clothes?” The question slips out. Not that you were…complaining. But it was snowing outside.

“Yeah… kinda got caught in the barracks. Didn’t wanna waste time and walk all the way… are you alright?”

“You’re freezing— here.” You hand him one of his old jackets he’d given you months ago, and he takes it quickly, shrugging it over his shoulders. “You dissipated kind of fast. I just… sorry. This is weird. I don’t know what to say?”

“You don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. I’ll…” He steps forward, a hand hooking under your chin to force your eyes up to him, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Wanted you to talk to me today.” You mumble and he grunts, shaking his head. “You were avoiding me. I thought you—“

“No, baby. No. Fuckin’ Fields has been on me since I deployed. He’d take any chance to send me home, and anyone I gave a shit about, too.” His hand hasn’t left you, though the other one stays pinned to his side.

“Oh. You— no, that makes total sense. You should definitely of— Of course! Yeah.” You make a complete dick of yourself trying to find a sentence that doesn’t make you sound insecure, and he steps into you, his body like a warm blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinkin’ about you all damn day.” His breath his hot against your skin, and he presses a kiss under your ear before he continues. “Were you thinkin’ about me?”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes are closed, but you can feel him. Feel his proximity— how his other hand leaves his side and rests on your hip, tugging you into him. There isn’t an inch of him you can’t feel, and the hard lines of his toned stomach tighten as he bends down further.

“You wanna pick up where we left off, sweetheart? Let me show you what I been meaning to do to you since I fuckin’ met you?” Your jaw falls open and you nod again. He takes his chance, groaning your name once more before devouring you into a searing kiss.

He’s unbelievably big, dwarfing your size under neath him as he moves his hands lower and starts to tug at your sweatpants. You shuffle as best you can to help him, but you’re too occupied with the way he’s kissing you to do anything but squirm against him. He’s kissing you like he’s hungry for it, like there’s something desperate and sweet inside of you he’s never had before. It makes your head spin to think he might want this just as bad as you do.

He walks backwards, falling with a grunt onto your bed, tugging you on top of him. It’s the same as this morning, expect now there’s even less between you. Just the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers seperate you from each other, but he’s no less intense with the way he moves you in slow circles while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters and pulls himself away, mumbling as he rips your shirt over your head. He kisses you everywhere he can reach— craning his head to press his mouth to your collarbones, down your chest, feeling his hands run up to touch you where his mouth can’t.

He flips you over, your back hitting the soft covers of your bed and crawls over you. His arms cage you in, mouth repeating the motions and tasting your skin further down. He’s so slow about it— hardly even doing this for you. His mouth is as warm as his skin, trailing his way down until his short hair tickles the skin of your inner thighs. You can’t take your eyes off him, how easy he fits himself between your legs, shoulders spreading you open.

He breathes out, setting himself down between your legs, toying with the soft fabric of your underwear. His fingertips are rough, but his touch gentle, tracing the lines of your hips and sending zaps of pleasure up your body.

“So pretty, baby.” The words hit your skin, and you squirm under his hands when they hook under your underwear. He drags them down quickly, your hands toying with the short strands of his hair. Franks eyes meet yours, and you swear he gives you a cocky little smile before he sinks lower and your eyes squeeze shut.

His mouth is on you in the next second, burying himself between you. You feel the warm touch of his mouth swirl around you, arms hooking around your lower half and holding you down. You don’t want to move, don’t want to interrupt the intensity of his touch but you can’t help it— it’s all too much and you want to dive into it. Everything hot and sparkling sizzles up your spine, and you arch off the bed in such surprise when you feel his mouth seal over your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder, a near painful grip on his hair yanking him both into you and away. He’s too strong, too overpowering to even notice your efforts, and you thank God he doesn’t fucking stop. You were whining pathetically now— his name echoing in high pitched in the small room. You feel him smile, your jaw going slack just thinking about what he looks like.

“Keep sayin’ my name— fuckin’ sounds good when you say it.” He leans back only slightly, and you gasp when you feel him lean his head against your thigh. The feeling of him— his mouth fucking wet with the taste of you, feeling the soft puff of his breath against your skin as he catches himself. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you down the bed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Keep going, fuck—“ You whimper, trying to smooth your hands through his hair in an attempt to be nicer. He grins lazily, and then stares right into your eyes as he spits into your pussy and buried his face into you again.

Everything burns red hot, and your legs clamp around his head as he speeds up. One arm is enough to hold you down, the other snaking up our side and interlocking with your hand. You can’t keep your eyes open— everything going blurry as your eyes roll back and you feel yourself spinning in all directions.

You must say something— his name, maybe, because he groans and flattens his tongue, letting you grind your hips up and into him. If you could manage to open your eyes you’d stare back at him— let him watch as you fall apart in a way only he can break you.

Frank keeps a pace— fucking you with his tongue and swirling around the bud of nerves in such a messy but fiery way that you can’t hold it. Everything gets white hot and your back arches again, fingertips digging into his scalp and hand, and you know it’s cliche but you swear you can see stars.

Frank doesn’t stop, just slows down and works you through the shocks of pleasure that jolt up your core, feeling the way you shudder as you cum in his mouth. When your squirming too much for him to hold you still, he drags his mouth up your body. Again, he kisses his way up, but this time it’s messy. He’s not just kissing— he drags teeth and tongue along your hip bones, marking his way up to your chest and neck. You’ll be covered in the evidence, and you only lean closer, wanting more.

“Fucking hell, Frank.” His hands slide up your sides while yours palm him through his boxers, and he shudders your name. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Do you, pretty girl?” He groans in your ear, and your stomach flips at the name. You bite your lip and nod, staring up at him and he grins. “You liked that, huh?”

“I know something I’d like more.” Blinking innocently, you slip your hand under his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard length. He cuts himself off with a choked gasp, leaning back down and kissing you messily.

You let him take what he wants, pressing his hips into the slow, teasing movement of your hand as you slowly slide his boxers off. The feeling of his skin on yours lights something on fire inside you, and while he’s nearly drunk on the taste of your mouth, you shove him easily onto his back. You’re quick about it, not giving him a second to breathe when you’re sinking down on his cock, earning another long, low groan.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” He gasps out, hands gripping your hips tightly. You roll forward slightly, feeling him hit something that makes you shiver, and he helps you chase the feeling. He moves you with no effort, bucking his hips and grinding you in out of rhythm thrusts, his eyes screwed tightly shut like he was in pain. “Oh god, baby don’t stop.”

“Feels good, Frankie.” His jaw goes slack with another stuttered moan of your name, while his hands touch you wherever they can reach. He glides up your stomach, over your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your face where he hauls you downwards into another bruising kiss.

“Fucking… so perfect. Thought about this… fuck, that’s it. God that’s fuckin’ it.” He slurs between kisses, and he moves faster, rougher as he fucks you dizzy. It’s numbing and electrifying all at once, the grip of his hands on your face forcing you to stare into his half lidded eyes. “Such a pretty girl. Just keep lookin’ at me. Just like that.”

His free hand wraps around your lower back, his name coming out high pitched and drawn out as you call it over and over again. He kisses you, words mumbled into your mouth but the pleasure is too overwhelming— you couldn’t hear anything but the snap of his hips against yours and both of you chasing your high.

He bites your lower lip, drawing you back to him when he feels you tighten around him. He knows you well— he’d know you’re close, and his eyes burn so brightly in front of you that even though he’s got that cocky smirk on his face you still want to tell him how fucking good he is at this. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you against him as he brings you to the edge with a few more strewing, devastating thrusts and you’re gone— screaming his name so loud you know your neighbours will hear.

“Fr-Frank!” Your body shakes as pleasure overwhelms you, and he watches every fucking second of it. He’s right there with you, the look on your face when you cum for him sending him toppling over with you. He’s so warm and he’s everywhere— arms wrapping around you, mouth sealed to yours swallowing every little whimper and moan, cock buried so deep inside you, you know you’re gonna feel him for days.

The room is suddenly quiet, except for yours and Franks in sync breathing. You tuck your face into his neck and he buries you there, strong arms wrapping around your torso and keeping you as close as possible. When you feel his heart beat start to slow, you look up at him to find he’s already staring at you.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He confesses, kissing you again. It’s lazy, indulgent and somehow he still tastes so good. It’s addicting, and you find yourself chasing his mouth until you’re breathless again. When he pulls away, he’s panting, shaking his head. “You keep kissing me like that and you’re in for a long fucking night.”

“Just one night?” You want to look away in case it’s not the answer you want, but he laughs, moving you to the side and tucking you to his chest.

“Fuck no.” He groans as he finally slips out of you. You sigh, content for now, and wriggle back towards him, pressing your ass against his hips. He freezes and his breathing changes, sounding very, very controlled. “Baby. Please don’t mess with me right now.”

“Oh, poor Frank. Stuck in bed with a girl. A naked girl. How’s he gonna make it?” Before you can be proud of yourself for the short silence you are awarded, he’s flipping you over and kissing his way down your chest and stomach. When he disappears between your thighs, you cry out his name, and fuck— you don’t think you’d ever get enough of this.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

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l0ves1ckf0ol · 2 years

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hear me out! nevermore has a musical they produce for the spring. they they so happen to do Chicago, the reader is velma kelly and xavier falls in love with the reader while he is helping with set for the show.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT | xavier thorpe

"you're breaking character, xavier. "

also a bit of a disclaimer i only heard abt the summary and i have no time to watch the whole musical but imma just go with my common knowledge i have for this. SO MOSTLY ITSBJUST THEM AND LESS CHICAGO IM SORRY SHSGS

"damn! only got ensemble, what about you y/n?" enid groans, you smirk at her "i got velma kelly." you say a toothy grin growin on your face. wednesday frowned at the conversation, "remind me again, why are you doing this?" she sighs out to you, almost looking disappointed. "i may be the child of the poltergeist and yes i love to hide but y'know i have to try out stuff once in a while." you reply to her, "also it's because of principal weems. she said that i had to do this or else i won't be sleeping in my own dorm, i set one on fire by accident." you add as enid laughed, "you never try out these things, y/n. why the change of heart? also you could've spent beekeeping with me and ottinger rather than be in that horrific display of singing." wednesday wonders curiously, did she see right through you? "just trying things out, wednesday." you breathed out to her, trying to play it cool looking ahead of her to a specific long haired boy who was busy on his sketchbook.

you've never heard of a theatre within the school, but it certainly exists. it's just that it needs cleaning up. you were there for rehearsals, since it was a saturday morning everyone was either in jericho or lazing away in their dorms. principal weems was unsure if you were going to stay put in the school grounds but you stayed behind, truthfully. you suddenly begin to despise being the lead for this musical, the pressure was getting to you and you start to worry if you're going to screw up.

"okay, let's go again, lights-" you announce as you start pacing the stage, "camera- paint?" you notice xavier coming up to the stage with a small bucket of what looked like maroon paint. "sorry for interrupting, please continue." he says politely, walking over to the lousy background of the stage, it had a sickening yellow color to it with loads of crusty paint slipping off the cement. "wouldn't you be at jericho by now?" you ask him as he dipped his wide brush in the paint and started painting from below to above.

"nope, weems asked me this morning to make a good background for the musical, it needs to be barely noticeable because they're using cardboard cutouts as scenes. she said black but for interrupting my coffee hours, i'll go with maroon instead." xavier answered, "could've gone with neon instead to infuriate her more, no?" you offer, wiggling your eyebrows. xavier laughed, "then i'll feel bad." he replies. "you have a soft heart for someone who looks like they ate a piece of lemon." you mentioned to him, he looks at you for the first time he walks in the room with a downturned smile, if that made sense.

"well- don't tell anyone about that. that right there is my biggest secret." he jokes, shaking his head left to right with a scoff. "alright, it'll be our official secret."

- xavier's pov (?) -

xavier never thought of you, or even acknowledged you that much but for some reason, after that conversation at the theatre you were basically unforgettable. he said hi to you in the hallways, everything seemed so monochrome but when you walked in the same room as him? instant color. so whenever he was free, he would do at least something to see you. this had been going on for a good 2 weeks

a week before the final rehearsal, he brought wax because weems tasked him to wax the stage. as he was nearing the door your voice rang clearer and clearer. your beautiful voice. xavier sighs to himself, he was at a loss by now, he tried his best to sneak inside unnoticed but the poltergeist could spot a shadow moving a mile away. so you instantly stopped.

"xavier?"

"oh hey sorry, i came in here to uh... wax the stage." xavier mumbled timidly, finally getting up to his normal height. you frowned, "thought this school was rich enough for maintenance people." you told him, he was trying to find the answers, for a moment he thought you were about to catch him in the act. "or was this only an act of service to suck up to the principal?" he could almost sigh from relief, "um yeah, been failing ms. thornhill's class lately so." xavier lied, he was doing excellently in that subject. a firm "hm." said it all, you probably knew, you just didn't want to spoil the fun. while y/n was singing her lungs off, xavier was sure it had something to do with jazz, he wasn't familiar with the musical. he was pre occupied scrubbing the floors with wax, luckily he wasn't wearing his school uniform since it was after class hours, otherwise those sweet blue slacks were toast. you didn't leave until he finished, you had other plans, xavier was onto you. if you figured him out, xavier was dead to himself and his dignity, i mean he wasn't ashamed with liking you. you were amazing, he just wanted to be sure that he liked you. lies.

"you finished. now, walk me to my dorm will you?" you ask him as you picked up your things from one of the leather seats and went outside as he followed. xavier left the wax at the stage, he remembered to return it tomorrow. as you walked the only sounds both of you could hear were your steps against the cobblestone floor, this only happend for 3 minutes. "so uh-"

"do you like me, xavier?" xavier wanted the ground to swallow him up right now. he stops in his footsteps and you turned from your heel, with a raised eyebrow. testing him. for a moment xavier almost breaks but he endured "do i like you is the question, what do you think?" he said, now you were testing each other. "i think you have had a little crush on me, ever since you painted the maroon background at the theatre. i know the maintenance people here, and i know that weems would never leave out an assignment for them, especially since it's this heck of a theatre that has not been used for a decade." you point out to him, with a devious smirk on your face.

xavier tugged at his jacket and approached one step forward toward you, "we both know you're a lazy poltergeist, l/n. why do you have extra rehearsals every after rehearsal- alone in the theatre?" you scoffed at his accusation, placing a hand on his chest, leaning in slightly, this made xavier's stomach do a flip and made his knees weak. "since we both are onto each other, you and i know the answer." you whispered as you lean back with a teasing side smile, xavier sighs out through his nose, his cheeks could match the theatre background, a sign that he gave up. his slim hands went up to your cheeks, his thumb caressing it. his lips were practically brushing against yours now,

"may i kiss you?"

"you're breaking character, xavier." you smiled, pressing your lips on to his, giving him an answer.

#gn reader #xu's fics #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams netflix #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x gn reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe

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star-writes-sometimes · 11 months

Text

bullying and cuddles

word count: 2.3k

cw: fem reader, reader implied to have anxiety cause im projecting, swearing, bullying (affectionate), fluff, idiots in love, probably ooc tangerine but whatever

a/n: i needed domestic fluff, is this similar to other stuff ive written? yes but i dont care i love domestic fluff. i geniuenly was debating posting this because i kinda hate it but yknow c'est la vie

---—---

you emerged from the safe house bathroom after brushing your teeth in an old tshirt and pyjama shorts. both of the boys bedroom doors were closed and you could hear the thomas the tank engine theme song coming from lemon’s room.

the door of your room was open and your suitcase was on the ground, clothes messily thrown all over the place. you had been here for about four days now so you were settled in as much as you could be in a new environment.

you and the twins were staking out a place and it was long and tedious, by this point you were thoroughly bored and ready for this to end so you could go back home. you couldn’t stand another night in the cold unfamiliar bed.

so, instead you knocked on tangerine’s door.

“come in.”

you opened the door and walked in, quickly shutting it behind you and leaning against it, facing tangerine. he was sat up in his bed reading a book. he was wearing a plain tshirt and pyjama pants. he looked comfy, more relaxed than he usually was. the quilt was folded neatly at the end of his bed and his suitcase on the floor was immaculately organised, a stark contrast to how your room looked.

“hi,” he said smiling at you.

“hi,” you returned the smile.

“cute pyjamas.”

you were wearing a faded marvin the martian tshirt and pyjama shorts covered in little oranges, “they’re oranges.”

“you sure you didn’t wear them just for me, love?” he smiled wider at you, cocking his head to the side slightly, “cause you look adorable.”

“why would i wear them for you, you’re my third favourite person in this house,” you scoffed.

“are you putting yourself above me?”

“i know my worth,” you squinted at the book he had in his hands, “whatcha reading?”

“uhh,” he glanced down at the page he was on, “the hunger games.”

“really?”

“why are you surprised?”

“i don’t know,” you laughed slightly, “i can only image you reading old or pretentious books.”

“are you calling me pretentious?”

you snapped your fingers in realisation, “tolstoy, you seem like the tolstoy type have you read anna karenina?”

“well, yes i have but i don’t just read old books.”

“so, hunger games.”

“yeah, it’s good criticism on violence in capitalistic societies.”

“i don’t think professional assassins should have a say on violence in capitalistic societies.”

he rolled his eyes, “then i enjoy the commentary on consumerism.”

you glanced at the gold jewellery on the bedside table, “i don’t think you can have a say on that either.”

he followed you eye line, “oh fuck off.”

you laughed, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you shifted around slightly in your spot against the door.

“did you come in here for a reason or just to take the piss out of me?”

you thought back to your lifeless room, “i was bored and i couldn’t annoy lemon.”

“why not, you’d probably enjoy his company more than mine,” his eyes drifted back down to his book.

“he’s watching thomas and there’s only so much of that i can take.”

he nodded, “understandable.”

there was a pause and you fidgeted with your hands nervously. you didn’t notice tangerine staring at you intently, contemplating what he should do.

“come sit with me,” he gestured to the empty spot next to him.

“are you sure?” you hesitated, bringing up your hand to chew on your nails.

“‘course love.”

you slowly moved over and sat on the bed next to him, keeping distance between you both on the queen sized bed.

it was silent again and you pulled your knees up against your chest, resting your chin on your knee.

“what part are you up to?” you asked.

“the interviews with caesar.” he turned his head and focused on you, noting your position and the gap you put between the both of you, “have you read it before?”

“back when i was a teenager but not since then.” you avoided his eyes, feeling anxious about the sharp eye contact, “have you read it before?”

“yeah, i’ve read it a few times.”

you just hummed in response. despite the nervous thoughts running through your head it felt better being in here with tangerine than being alone in your room. it was better having anxiety over being alone with the guy you were crushing on than the emptiness you would have felt by yourself in your room.

“come here love.” he said softly.

“what?” your eyes snapped up to him.

“sit next to me properly.”

you moved slightly closer, still leaving space between you both.

tangerine rolled his eyes and put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, “i’m not gonna fucking bite ya love, you can sit next to me.”

you scrunched your nose up at him, “i just didn’t want to get cooties.”

“you think i have cooties?”

“yup you have phytophthora gummosis.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

you laughed and leant into him more, “it's a disease that affects citrus trees.”

he tried not to smile, “how long have you been waiting to make that joke.”

“a few weeks,” you smiled brightly, “i did research on citrus trees.”

“just so you could take the piss out of me?”

“i had to, you look cute when you’re all annoyed and scrunch your eyebrows up.” you reached up and run over one of his eyebrows with your thumb.

“don’t call me cute.”

“why not? you are.”

“i’m meant to be intimidating.”

“how could anyone be scared of you? you’re reading the hunger games.”

“very funny, i can be scary and enjoy the hunger games.”

“are you team peeta or gale?”

“definitely peeta, he was smart and a romantic,” tangerine said, like he had thought about it a lot before.

“oh so you’re a romantic that adds to your scariness.”

“you’re bullying me, you’re a bully,” he pinched your side, enjoying the way you squirmed into him.

you yawned and put your head on his shoulder. he repositioned his arm that was around your shoulder and started stroking your hair.

“are you tired darling?”

you blinked sluggishly, “yeah… i should probably go-”

you started to get up but was stopped and cut off by tangerine.

“no, stay,” he held onto you, “you just relax.”

you bite your lip anxiously but try to relax into him again. you stared at the book in his hand, studying the mockingjay symbol on the cover.

“what’s on your mind pet?”

you felt your neck heat up at the unfamiliar nickname, “uh can you maybe read to me?”

“you want me to read to you?”

you nodded.

“you sure you’ll be able to understand with the accent?”

“you’re british not an alien, i can understand you fine.”

“okay.” he pulled you close, you settled with your head on his chest and his arm comfortably around you. he smiled down at you, silently grateful that you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, “you ready?”

“yeah,”

“okay darling,” he took his focus off you and onto the book, “i’m still in a daze for the first part of peeta’s interview. he has the audience from the get-go, though; i can hear them laughing, shouting out. he plays up the baker’s son thing, comparing tributes to the bread from their districts.”

“what would your strategy be in the interviews?” you asked.

“i’m not sure.”

“i don’t think you could pull off the charming thing.”

“wow, thanks love your doing wonders for my self esteem,” he replied sarcastically.

you smiled, “no that’s not what i meant, you’re plenty charming, i just think you’d be better as one of those career tributes everyone is scared of.”

“i thought you said i wasn’t scary?”

“shhh that was minutes ago you should’ve forgotten about that by now, just keep reading.”

“right sorry,” he laughed slightly, “then he has a funny anecdote about the perils of the capital showers. ‘tell me, do i still smell like roses?’ he asks caesar, and then there's a whole run where they take turns sniffing each other that brings down the house.”

“maybe you would be charming, you always smell really nice.”

“thank you, darling,” he kissed your forehead and pulled you impossibly closer, “you smell nice too.”

you smiled and adjusted your position so you could hold onto his shirt.

“i’m coming back into focus when caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.” he continued, “peeta hesitates, then gives him an unconvincing shake of his head. ‘handsome lad like you. there must be some special girl. come on what’s her name?’ says caesar. peeta sighs. ‘well there is this one girl. i’ve had a crush on her ever since i can remember. but i’m pretty sure she didn’t know i was alive before the reaping.’”

tangerine glanced down at you half surprised and half disappointed you didn’t interrupt again. he liked listening to you talk.

your breathing had evened and your eyes had closed. you’d fallen asleep against him. he bookmarked the book and placed it on his side table. he carefully reached down, grabbed the quilt and pulled it over the both of you.

“goodnight, love.” he kissed your cheek gently.

—

lemon woke up the next morning and stumbled into the kitchen, prepared to see tangerine already up and cooking breakfast for the three of you. he was shocked to find the kitchen empty, no trace of you or tangerine.

he looked over at both your bedroom doors and saw yours open and empty. weird. you were usually the last awake, having to be woken up by one of the twins.

lemon walked over to tangerine’s door and opened it, “hey bruv have you seen-” he cut himself off looking down at the scene in front of him.

you were asleep in tangerine’s arms and he was holding you close. he was awake and staring down at you, playing with your hair and gently tracing your features as you slept.

lemon snickered, “whats going on here, then?”

“shut the fuck up,” tangerine immediately fired back but lemon knew it was less harsh than it usually was. despite all the teasing tangerine knew he’d get, he was happy.

“this is cute, it really is.” lemon quipped, “but i have no clue how to make breakfast so please get up soon.”

“i’m not interrupting her sleep just cause your fucking incompetent.”

“fine, just don’t blame me if i burn this place down trying to make toast,” lemon started to leave.

“stop, just wait ten minutes then i’ll make you some fucking food.”

“thanks bruv, really appreciate it.”

“whatever.”

lemon left and tangerine was alone with you again.

tangerine moved your hair away from your face, “sweetheart?” he kissed your forehead, “if you don’t wake up soon the smoke alarm will probably wake you.”

you stretched slightly and snuggled into tangerine more, “this is nicer than the way lemon wakes me up.”

“if we don’t get up soon lemon is gonna try to cook,” he held your face and kissed you cheek gently.

“we can’t have that he’ll probably poison us all,” you sat up and rubbed your eyes, “why is your bed comfier than mine?”

“because i actually make mine?” he got up and stared down at you still wrapped in the blanket.

“ha ha,” you laughed dryly and fell back into the bed.

you closed your eyes again and settled back into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. it really was a comfortable bed.

your peaceful rest was interrupted by getting lifted into the air.

your eyes flew open as tangerine picked you up, carrying you into the kitchen. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly.

"what the fuck are you doing, you fucking numpty!?"

"you looked peaceful i didn't want to have to wake you again."

"well it didn't fucking work you twat."

"sorry, love," he set you down on the kitchen bench and kissed you cheek, "but you look cute when your annoyed."

you felt your face heat slightly and turned your face away from him.

"stop flirting and make me breakfast." lemon interrupted.

"you could say please, you wanker," tangerine snapped at him.

"please, make us breakfast, please, mr. fruit?" you said giving your best puppy dog eyes.

"for you, not for him, darling."

you smiled, "thank you, tan."

“you’re a twat,” lemon added.

tangerine flipped lemon off and started making pancakes. you jumped off the kitchen bench and moved over to the kettle, checking it was full before boiling it.

“lemon, do you want a cuppa?”

“yeah,” lemon mumbled, distracted by his comic.

tangerine whacked lemon up the side of his head.

“yes please, sweetheart," lemon corrected himself.

“thanks lem,” you laughed slightly at the sibling abuse.

the kettle flicked off and you finished making the three cups of tea and handed one to lemon who smiled in thanks. you walked over to tangerine and placed one on the counter in front of him.

tangerine grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the cheek, “thank you pet.”

you pulled away from him and started drinking your own cup, watching tangerine as he cooked and plated the golden pancakes.

“so did you two fuck last night?” lemon abruptly asked.

you choked on your tea and tangerines head snapped up to glare at him.

“no we slept together,” tangerine slowly replied.

lemon snorts, “i thought that was the same thing.”

“no you bellend we actually just slept, we were tired,” tangerine snapped.

you gulped down the rest of your tea and quickly placed your mug in the sink, “i’m gonna go shower boys, please save me some pancakes.” you smiled at the both and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

once you were gone lemon spoke up again, “you gonna tell her you love her yet?"

“shut up,” tangerine hissed, glancing at the shut bathroom door.

“she likes you too you know.”

tangerine didn’t respond for a few seconds, “really?”

“you’re in love with each other you both just fucking stupid.”

and for once tangerine didn’t feel the need to throw an insult back, he just reveled at the thought that you could like him too.

#tangerine #bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train 2022 #bullet train x reader #tangerine x you

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corpsebasil · 1 year

Text

Spidey -> Ethan Landry Parte Uno

In which the web slinging superhero is closer than you think.

(Sorry I just LOVE this idea I can’t)

You groaned as you entered your apartment, dropping your cheer bag on the counter as you moved into the kitchen. It’d a long day at school—longer than normal—and you were exhausted. So you kicked off your cheer shoes and pulled your headache-inducing ponytail free, running your hands through your hair to massage your scalp.

Tara texted, making sure you got home, and you replied quickly.

Tare Bear 💜

Tara: hey girl, make it?

Y/N: yeah. about to eat another boring salad.

Tara: couch was on our ass today, what the hell? apparently she said we all need to lose five pounds before the game in two weeks

Y/N: I’m already swamped with homework wtf

Y/N: gym in the morning?

Tara: yeah, I’ll pick you up at five

You turned off your phone and grumbled to yourself, making your way towards your room. The siren song of ranch was loud but, if coach was serious, you’d do the boring alternative of a little bit of olive oil and lemon juice. As you made it into your room you yelped as a fist hit the window, knocking aggressively.

“What the hell…” you mumbled, opening up your window to glare at Spider-Man. “I was just about to drown my sorrows with a gallon of water. What do you want?”

“I sprained my wrist.” The spandex-wearing hero explained, already sneaking into your bedroom as you gave him space. “Help me out, doc?”

“Cant you go to a real doctor?” You asked, rolling your eyes as you moved to your dresser where you kept your medical supplies. As a third year med student, and a good keeper of secrets, you’d been tending to Spider-Man’s various injuries since freshmen year.

“But you’re so much nicer. And no, I cant.”

“What about Stark?” You asked, fishing out a bottle of Advil. “Doesn’t he have some sort of fancy doctor to help out Avengers?” You wiggled your eyebrows, glancing over as Spider-Man plopped onto your bed.

“Not an Avenger.” He mumbled, rolling his wrist around. You couldn’t see his face—had never seen it—but you were sure he was wincing. “Hey, nice uniform. Had fun with your pompons?”

“Yeah I know you like my uniform.” You scoffed, moving over. It was true, your short skirt and tight top did wonders for your figure. “Wish coach liked it. She’s saying we all need to lose five pounds before the game.”

“But you—I mean, you look great you—I mean your body is..” he trailed off, embarrassed, and your smile turned feline. “I just mean you look good. And stuff.”

“How sweet.” You laughed lightly, passing him the Advil. “I’ll get you some ice. You can take the meds while Im in the kitchen.”

You left the room, moving to grab your ice pack as you worked. It was strange, honestly. He’d been seeing you for a while now, your interactions friendly if not a bit flirtatious, but you still didn’t know anything about him. And weirdly enough, you wanted to. It wasn’t that you liked him or anything, but…

You went back to the bedroom, covering your eyes comically as you pretended to feel around.

“Covered up, Spidey?” You asked, fighting back a laugh when his chuckle filled the space between you.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You uncovered your eyes and moved forward, offering the ice-pack. When he took it, his covered fingers met your own, the smooth fabric of the suit cool against your skin. You fought a suddenly sharp inhale and backed up, gesturing to the window.

“Well, um. Goodnight.” You said, smiling a tad bit awkwardly. “Gotta go make myself a pile of lettuce. See you around.”

“Wait—” he stood up suddenly and you blinked. “I mean—want to…do something? Like watch a movie or—?”

“Spidey.” You laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Superhero,” you started, pointing to him. “civilian.” You added, pointing to yourself. “Isn’t that like..against protocol?”

“No one’s gonna know.” He protested, moving a step forward. “Come on, aren’t we friends, Y/N?”

You stared, looking at his towering, muscular form. And you suddenly felt a twinge of disappointment. Or was it longing?

“I’m just your free medic.” You said, turning your back to him. “See you later!”

It was quiet for a moment so you glanced over your shoulder.

He was gone.

You were stretching when Ethan, Chad’s roommate and your nerdy friend, jogged up to you. He looked slightly sweaty and out of breath, like he’d run all the way from his late night Econ class to meet you at the football field. You raised your brows, wiping the dirt off your skirt as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Hey, E.” You greeted, scanning him up and down with your eyes. He’d agreed to drive you home after practice, claiming it was too dangerous to walk alone. Chad had already taken Tara home, so you were stuck with Ethan. “Run all the way here? Getting your laps in?”

“Yeah. I mean—no. Not all the way.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You laughed, looping your arm through his as you walked off the field, leading him towards the parking lot. “My valiant rescuer. What will I ever do to thank you?”

“Wanna get food?” He asked, raising his brows. “We can study for the test while we wait.”

“Yeah I—” you frowned. “I cant. Sorry. Sticking to salads and protein shakes right now, E.”

“Come on. You’re gorgeous. You’re coach is an idiot.” He told you, not really realizing what he’d said, but your brows knit.

“Did Tara tell you?” You asked, confused, and his cheeks reddened.

“Yeah I mean. Chad was talking about it. Saying Tara was pissed.”

“Rightfully so. We’re skinny enough as it is.” You complained, frowning as you made your way to his car. Then you paused, smiling a bit wickedly. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

Ethan was flustered, but smiled shyly as he opened the passenger door for you.

“Obviously.” He mumbled, brown eyes on yours, and you grinned.

“Awww, E.” You cooed, reaching up to pinch his cheek before you climbed into the car.

Later, clad in an oversized shirt, you sat next to Ethan on the couch, laughing. He was gagging dramatically, his own shake in front of him half-drank before he’d requested a sip of your own. Yours was with water, instead of milk, and was the vegan protein powder you kept in your pantry. He’d allowed you to convince him to drink a chocolate whey, not wanting to order the burger he’d wanted and have you suffer alone.

“God this is awful.” He griped, and you laughed loudly at his twisted up expression. “God how do you drink this?”

“Anything for cheer.” You giggled, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you and your pompoms.” He mumbled, and you poked him in the side.

“You like my pompoms.”

“You know I do.” He shot back, turning to look at you, and your heart stuttered. Then he glanced away, looking a bit nervous, before looking back. “I like you, Y/N.” He admitted, and you raised a brow, even as you blushed.

“I should hope so. We’re friends, after all.”

“I mean more.” He added, looking away awkwardly at your silence. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

But his breathing hitched a fraction when you took his face in your hand and made him look at you, scanning those gorgeous eyes of his for any hint of reluctance. When there was none you leaned forward, your own heart rate increasing as you pressed your mouth softly against his.

Okay, it was hardly a kiss. Only so much so that you could acknowledge the graze of his mouth against your own—could feel the curve and slope of his lips. But then he was jumping, yanking away, as one of the loudest ringtones you’d ever heard went off.

Even you startled, and you began to laugh before seeing the panicked look on his face.

“E? You okay—?”

“I gotta go. I’m sorry!” He said, expression hardening as he bolted to his feet and practically tore out of your apartment.

So you sat there feeling slightly dumb, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

Later, hours later, you were bored, watching Tombraider for the billionth time on your laptop.

Tare Bear 💜

Y/N: I kissed Ethan

Y/N: well, kind of

Tara: WHAT

Y/N: we were having fun and then I kissed him and he just left ??? Like did I do something wrong ??

Tara: you’re the hottest girl in school . Maybe he just panicked ??

You began typing again but froze when you heard the familiar knocks at your window, and you sighed loudly. You moved over and opened it up, giving Spider-Man a weighted stare.

“Not now, Web Boy. I’m going through a crisis.”

“I got cut!” He protested, grabbing the window with insane strength to stop you from pushing it down. “Come on, Y/N.”

You stared at those eyes, those white eyes of the mask, and rolled your own.

“Fine. Fine. I’m getting a glass of wine, want anything?”

“No thanks.” The hero said brightly, crawling inside when you moved away. You got your glass of wine before coming back and scoffing, staring at the cut he was so worried about.

“That is a paper-cut, Spidey. A paper cut.”

“What if it’s infected?” He asked, pouting, and you folded.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me.” You grumbled, taking a large gulp before moving to your dresser to get anti-biotic salve and a bandaid. He’d taken the glove off on his right hand and was flexing his fingers over and over. “Speaking of death, I’m going to kill a boy. Maybe you could turn a blind eye from your hero shit and let me get away with it.”

“What?” He asked, voice cautious as you moved closer. “What…boy?”

“This guy he—“ you paused, sighing dramatically. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Give me your hand.”

“Wait, I wanna know.” He protested, holding his hand up high out of reach. The man was tall, for Christ’s sake.

“Seriously? Is this what we do now? Gossip about our love lives?” You smirked, fighting down the desire to tell him. You’d known him for a long time, now. Surely it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Are we braiding each other’s hair next? Pillow fighting?”

“We can pillow fight but I might take your eye out by accident.” When you opened your mouth to argue he pushed his hand down into your own, and the sudden warmth and smoothness of his skin startled you. “Tell me about this guy. Maybe I can help.”

You stared at him for a moment, your cheeks flushing a bit as you glanced down at the hand in your own. Your thumb grazed his knuckles involuntarily before you blinked, clearing your head and turning his fingers up so you could see them.

“Well..” you started, cleaning his finger off with a wet rag as you spoke. Truly he was such a baby. He used to only come to you for big things and now you were treating paper-cuts? “He’s kind of dorky, but I like that. He treats me like a human being and not just a piece of ass like a lot of frat guys do to cheerleaders.” You continued, wiping on some salve. “But…tonight I..” you swallowed, blinking down at his hand as you opened up a bandaid and smoothed it down. “I think I fucked up.”

“How?” Spider-Man asked, and he sounded slightly out of breath. You looked up at his face.

“I kissed him. Sort of. And then he just ran like—he literally could not get out of here fast enough.”

“Maybe he had to go somewhere?” Spidey offered, and didn’t let your hand go when you moved to set his free. “I don’t know I just think any guy would be stupid to run away from you.”

“Sure you do.”

“I do. Why do you think I keep coming back?”

You stared down at him, at the superhero you’d been tending to for so long, and something in you shifted. You moved towards him, your knees brushing his own where he sat on your bed. Your eyes were soft and filled with…Spider-Man didn’t know….but you looked so pretty and he…

“Is that why you come?” You asked, biting your bottom lip. “Because you…”

You reached out, touching his arm carefully, well aware the physical boundaries between you had never been crossed like this. And when you set your hands on his shoulders, he didn’t protest. If anything he leaned into your touch, both of your breaths catching when you braved going further and climbed onto his lap, settling yourself against him.

The latex was surprisingly smooth and warm against your bare legs, his hands immediately finding your waist to hold you still.

“Y/N.” He breathed, masked face so close to your own. “You know why I come back.” He said, and you could’ve sworn your heart skipped a beat. “I come back for you.”

You smiled softly at that, your hands sliding up his neck. But when your thumbs hooked under his mask and began to cautiously slide it up, he grabbed onto your wrists. You shot him a questioning look.

“Not—not yet.” He told you, and you frowned. You must’ve been losing your damn touch, because—

But then he was moving closer, hands finding your neck as his masked-mouth met yours, the foreign sensation strange but not at all unenjoyable. You could feel the shape of him, feel his warmth pressed against you, and it felt…familiar. Right. You made a soft noise and he gripped your hips tighter, your eyes pulling back to meet his.

“I wanna kiss you for real.” You murmured, running a thumb over his lips through the suit, and he shook his head.

“Not yet. Please. Give me time.”

You nodded, allowing him to slip his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he breathed. You could’ve sworn he mumbled something but you ignored it, too busy allowing the masked hero to press your entire body against his.

Afterwards, what felt like minutes, he ran a hand through your hair and pulled you away.

“I have to go.” He said, sounded regretful. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”

“Okay.” You whispered, wishing you could see even a glimpse of his face, but understanding. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He repeated as you moved off him, but not before planting one last kiss against your head. He dove out the window and swung off into the night, doing an elaborate flip you knew he thought would impress you.

It did.

HELLLOOOO WHATBDONYOU GUYS THINK?

#ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot #spiderman x reader #spiderman #Spider-Man #peter parker #scream six fanfiction #scream six

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

Text

Request: So, I was thinking about Elle Woods (random, I know lol), BUT what if Y/n was similar to Elle Woods (also BUBBLES FROM POWERPUFF GIRLS) in that she’s REALLY girly, like pink/glitter ALL OVER, very bubbly, but instead of her being a lawyer with pink all over, she’s an assassin with pink all over?? And I’m talking EVERY PINK lol- Clothes, accessories, weapons, etc…. Similarly to how Elle isn’t taken seriously as a lawyer (at first) because of her demeanor and how she dresses, Y/n isn’t taken seriously (at first) as an assassin because of how she acts and dresses? BUT like Elle, Y/n is REALLY good at her job… Anyways, somehow meeting Tan and they fall in love??? Lemon being (slightly) amused at Y/n and Tan’s banter? But also Tan being really soft for her?? By @kpopgirlbtssvt

SORRY I TRIED TO COMMENT ANS SAY I WOILD DO IT BUT IM SHADOWBANNED SO I CANT ): I MISSED YOU THO AND I MISS WRITING FOR TAN SO… :3 hope it’s good love!

Lipstick

“You sure you’re an assassin?” A man said, you huffed and crossed your arms, you were currently sitting on top of the man, knife in hand.

“Look, sir, I’m trying to kill you right now and if you keep questioning me I can’t really do my job.” You said, then stabbed him in the neck before he could say anything else.

“Fucking prick.” You mumbled, putting the pink knife in the sink not too far away. You wiped your bloody hands, and then you looked down at your clothes.

“Aww man! That was my favorite shirt.” You pouted, and tried to swipe as much blood as you could off of it.

You sighed and took a picture of the body, sending it to your boss who would then send it over to the person who hired you.

You cleaned up the knife, and quickly went on your way as if nothing had happened.

You texted your boss “Is that the only mission you got for me today? (:”

“I mean, I have another one if you want to..”

“How much is it?”

“A lot. This guys offering 500k, but you’d have to be partnered up.”

“… with who?”

“The twins.”

———————————————————————

That’s how you were now with the twins, standing outside the building full of people.

“Why can’t we jus.. I dunno, go in?” You turned to them both, you all currently on the roof.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Tangerine asked.

“Watch.” You said, dropping down from the roof and going up to some guards. Tangerine and lemon mentally groaned in annoyance.

“Heyyy..”

“Who are you?” One asked.

“I think she’s the bosses sons girlfriend.” Another one said, you nodded.

“Yeah. Peter!” You made up a random name. You said it cheery and with a smile.

“Yeah, alright.” The one at the door mumbled, opening it up. You looked back at the twins and winked.

“They’re fucking daft.” Lemon said.

“Right? There’s no way-“

You opened the door in the back, and motioned for them to come.

They both furrowed their eyebrows and came in anyways.

Sneakily crouching around, you all found the room that the man was in.

But there was a guard outside, so you grabbed the knife on your hip and came up behind the man. You jumped on him and covered his mouth and nose, then repeatedly stabbing him in the neck while doing so.

The man fell, and you yelped when you almost fell too, but they had both caught the body before it hit the ground. You slowly and carefully dropped down, tangerine helping you while doing so.

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” You whispered to him, kissing his hand. “What a gentleman.”

“Shut it.” He whispered back.

You smirked and opened the door slowly, the man was sleeping on his desk.

“So we jus’ gotta bring him in?” You whispered.

Tangerine and Lemon knew the drill, and Lemon handed him the body bag.

“I’m not used to this at all.” You shook your head. You were more used to actual jobs were you killed, not kidnapping ones.

The man started to scream when you punched him in the face, knocking him out quickly. The both of them quickly put him in the bag, and dragged him into the back again.

“Why the fuck do you have a pink car again?” Tangerine asked, quickly throwing the car door open as some guards came your way.

“Cause it’s pretty.” You shrugged, and you went into the back, grabbing a gun, and shooting the guards on by one, hiding behind your door when they shot at you.

“Drive, drive drive!” You shouted, quickly getting into the car, and ducking down, tangerine sped off and Lemon had thrown the body in the back with you.

You laughed and then you realized something.

“Damnit, now my cars all ruined.” You pouted, and shook your head to yourself.

“What the fuck was that? You coulda’ gotten all of us killed!” Tangerine shouted angrily, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Oh relax, I know what I’m doing.” You said, putting your feet onto the other seats, tangerine tan a hand through his hair and Lemon just staring ahead in disbelief.

——————————————————————-

That’s how it all started. It’s now been two years of you, Lemon and Tangerine working together now, you all simply fit, and had the best performance.

“Get your dirty hands off her.” Tangerine had practically growled, the person you guys were fighting currently on top of you, pretty much wrestling you.

He ran straight into him, knocking him onto the ground and some glass. You furrowed your eyebrows and held your hand to your cheek, which the man had punched hardly.

You sat up and watched them fight now, holding your elbow that had glass in it. You looked up at Lemon and scooted over to him. He just looked down at you and then back to tangerine. He punched the man in the face repeatedly, then pulled out his gun and shot him, his brains going splattering all on the cold tile floor.

“Oh. That’s.. lovely…?” You mumbled, and looked at Tangerine.

He looked at you and then Lemon, you both stared at him in shock slightly. He stood up, and buttoned his shirt back up, fixing his hair and looking at you both.

“What?”

“Nothing, mate, nothing.” Lemon shook his head.

“That was hot.” You blurted out, both of them looked at you now.

Tangerine rolled his eyes as he dragged the body, hiding it behind the counter and taking a picture of it. He came up to you.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Just some glass in my elbow.. and pretty sure I got a bruise on my cheek but.. I’m fine.”

He nodded and went past you, You stared at him, admiring his face.

“Quit staring.” He said when he passed you. He would be lying if he said he didn’t secretly like it.

“Can’t help myself.” You shrugged, and walked next to him. Lemon snickered at you both.

“What?” He looked to lemon.

“You two are adorable, honestly.” Lemon said, putting his hands up in defense when tangerine gave him a look.

That made his ego bigger than it needed to be, he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention again and Lemon hit his shoulder and nodded to you as if saying “go for it, man.”

Lemon walked away from you both, and entered the drivers seat.

He looked at you and you looked back, smiling at him.

“Staring problem, Tan?” You teased.

“Was jus’ wondering if you wanted to go out on Saturday.” He said, messing with one of the rings on his fingers.

“Is Tangerine asking me out on a date?” You gasped and smiled.

“No one said it was a-“

“So it’s not a date?”

“I mean… yeah it is actually.” He said.

You smiled at him again, kissing his cheek. The pink lipstick staining his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d love to.”

He looked at you again, his usually cold and hard glare turned into a soft and loving one every time he looked at you. You just didn’t notice it until now.

———————————————————-

He took you inside, Lemon waiting in your living room for him.

He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, and he reached for your arm, which you let him grab. He was on his knees as he examined it, noticing small pieces of glass scattered in your arm and elbow.

He grabbed tweezers, cleaning them with rubbing alcohol first, and then he slowly started to removed the pieces.

You winced in pain. He held your arm with his other hand, trying to get you to stay still.

“Jus’ a few more, yeah?” He said, you nodded with your eyes screwed shut.

After a while, he finally got all the pieces out. The pain was horrible, but felt somewhat better now.

He looked up at you, still on his knees.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine, shit, just hurts.” You mumbled.

“Sorry, I shoulda been there earlier.”

“It’s not your fault, tan.” You said, and he was now standing in front of you, he helped you stand up.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Of course.” He looked at you, glancing at your soft lips for a moment.

You noticed, and decided to take action. You leaned to him, and kissed him. He grabbed your hips, pulling you closer, your chests touching now.

Your hands were in his hair, and he shut the bathroom door quickly with his foot, he went to the floor, and you straddled him now, giggling quietly when you looked at his now pink face.

“What?” He asked.

“My lipsticks all on you.”

He blushed at the realization, he hadn’t even realized until now.

He shrugged. “Whatever.” He kissed you again, feverishly, cupping your cheeks.

This man would be the death of you.

#tangerine bullet train #bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

Text

fic rec friday 45

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Pieces by zenstrike

Five times Keith found comfort with Lance, and one time he tried to return the favour.

look i know i talked about zenstrike last week and im here to do it again. i know what the secret relationship trope is, i know there are so many great fics but like. zenstrike reaches something in my chest and fucking twists it. i read something of theirs for the first time like two years ago and i remember being actually fucking struck dumb on my bed and clutching my phone because the way my stomach churned and my heart pounded and i well and truly FELT every fucking emotion!! when keith nervously pressed his palm to the junction of lance's neck and his breath sharpened mine did too!! when the swirling dread of fear and nerves turned in lances belly it turned in mine too!! idk what it is about zenstrike but they have touched me in a way no other author ever has in my whole life and i cant always read everything they write in one sitting, sometimes im consuming it all in a frenzy and sometimes one fic takes me days. anyway keith loving lance with every goddamn molecule but being physically unable to say it but determined to show it will always make me insane sorry for the goddamn essay

2. when you're here loving me by orphan_account [EXPLICIT]

“’Look at me, I’m Keith,” Lance muttered, “’I run directly at Galra sentries and don’t even think about the big, glowy thingies in their hands. What are those called again?’” He tightened the gauze, gently despite his trying to act angry, “’Right! Guns! Can’t possibly hurt me, right?’” Keith scowled, “I know what a gun is.” ✦ they come back from a mission, gross and in love.

this one is kinda porny lol but its pretty goddamn funny. of COURSE these two are the massive losers who play rock paper scissors after they bone 💀💀

3. The Samurai and the Sharp-Shooter by orphan_account

It's tough going on missions when you have to pretend you're dating your rival. Tougher still when you're actually not even rivals but lovers forced to hide that fact for the sake of the team's greater mission. Not canon, but still in space and everyone's there. Fluffy with zero angst.

this fic makes me CRY with laughter bc why are they fake dating to hide that they're real dating on a god damned assassination mission 😭😭 they're actually so goddamn stupid

4. Headshot by @angelwithaknife

“Guys,” Lance grunted, lying down behind a couples of rocks and aiming at some soldiers again, “I appreciate that you appreciate me but please stop waving at me after I save you, I’m sick of running around trying to find new spots, I specifically chose a long-range weapon so I could lie down all the time.”

this is so CUTE the team loves lance so bad. and as they should!! bc hes so smart and amazing and cool and wonderful and talented honestly i just love him so bad

5. What's Something You've Never Told Me? by @fondaboo

The lady drops a slice of lemon into it and slides it back towards him. “You’ve got pretty good taste kid,” she says. Her cordial smile turns wicked and teasing, as she jerks her chin to the dance floor. “And it's not just limited to drinks, I'd say.” Keith follows her dark gaze, before he can help himself, biting down on a groan when he sees where she’s looking. Lance. Jesus, he can’t even go to a bar without someone calling out his—blatant and painfully obvious—crush on Lance. “Friend of yours?” She croons. He drags a hand down his face, maybe he needs something stronger than whiskey. Ketamine maybe. “Best friend actually,” he squints through his fingers, glaring darkly, “not that it’s anyone’s business.” Or the author overuses em-dashes while trying to make Keith talk about his damn feelings! OR ace Lance has to deal with a smitten Keith and just wants to watch disney

ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!! god i love him. also fondaboo literally never misses

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#i will never ever stop being annoying about secret relationship #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #bamf lance #bamf keith #bamf klance #soft klance #fic rec friday #fic rec #frf #longpost

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blue-jisungs · 2 years

Text

you blush easily ♡

a/n. HO HO HO GUESS WHOS BACK! ME :D ! where’s my blushing gang at!! i hate it so much, i go all red just from speaking up in public… i’m afraid my cheeks would explode if something like that happened to me irl ...

┆彡 HEESEUNG [ 희승 ]

oh man he loves it so much and doesn’t even hide it

and will try to fluster you every change he gets!!

and enjoys it too…

sometimes will trap you in his lap and hold your hands so you can’t hide your face in them

will laugh at it too, cooing something like "my little tomato" (not funny, hee🙄)

"you look so pretty, you know?" heeseung hummed, leaning towards you. you could clearly see the mischievous spark in his eyes.

"shut up" you grunted, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks so you tried to squirm away from his grip. but hee, sadly and obviously, was stronger and stopped you from doing so. his smile grew wider as your cheeks reddened.

"make me" your boyfriend smirked, loving every second of your misery. he saw your cheeks reddening even more before you said:

"oh i will" and you sent him a sly smile before closing the gap between you two. at least that way he wasn’t focused on your bright-coloured cheeks right now.

BUT! but. if he hears one of his members saying something like "ooh look at y/n’s red cheeks, she looks like a tomato" …

… dangerous hyung mode activated.

only he can call you like that smh!!!

┆彡 JAKE [ 제이크 ]

when jake was rambling some cute stuff (and didn’t even realise), causing you to blush… at first he thought you’re mad at him

but then you explained that it’s nothing, you just blush easily

and he goes from 😦 to 😄

for the next month teases you just to see that rosy blush on your cheeks, even in public

he grins like a fool in love (well, he is one) every time he sees you like that :P

but then when he overhears someone saying you’re cute like that he decided that only he has the privilege to see you like that 🙄🤚

so he cherishes your red face in private now, placing kisses all over your cheeks

you just tightened your lips, crossing your arms. jake was looking at you, all giggly and with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"yeah? you happy now?" you hummed, trying your best to look pissed off. jake nodded.

"yeah!" your boyfriend waltzed over to you and in a matter of seconds cupped your face, pecking your cheeks… which caused your cheeks to redden even more. he watched that curiously and you just let out a sigh.

"sim jaeyun i hope you’re enjoying yourself because i am leaving now" you mumbled and pretended to walk away just to be trapped in his arms.

"i’m sorry, i can’t help it. you just look so cute like that" jake grinned, his chin resting on your shoulder.

┆彡 JAY [ 제이 ]

he looks like he doesn’t care…

… at first.

because he’s got his lil famous smirk formed on his lips when he realises he’s the reason your cheeks are glowing red

and you can’t help but poke him to stop smiling (he won’t, he finds it adorable)

but. if you’re red and blushy because you’re nervous eg whilst speaking up…

… he’s having his hands around you right away, letting you know that he’s here and he can take over any time (which he does if you tug his sleeve)

FFS I WANT A JAY IM CRYING SLIDING DOWN MY WALL

"and uh… one… medium… yep, one medium–" you mumbled, looking at the menu. no, you didn’t decide yet what to take and the employee’s stare was not helping you at all. you chuckled nervously, cheeks heating up "uhm…"

you felt jay’s hand wrapping around your waist, his thumb drawing circles in a comforting motion. you grabbed the sleeve of his free hand, tugging it softly before hiding your hand in his.

"one medium lemon iced tea. to go. thank you" jay said calmly and the employee nodded, showing you the price of your order.

after paying you moved aside to make room for other people and jay just placed a tender kiss on top of your head, letting you know that there’s no need to get nervous when he’s around.

┆彡 JUNGWON [ 정원 ]

he finds it sooo cute :((

will stop in his tracks whenever your face starts turning red

and will try and legit on fight you so you don’t hide it from him 🙄

in private, he loves to cover your face in kisses when it’s red already as if you’re not going to explode in any moment :)

but don’t get me started if 1) you’re getting red because you’re nervous/uncomfortable, 2) someone is making comments about it

one death stare from jungwon mostly shuts up the person tho

"love you, have a great day!" you grinned and placed a quick kiss on jungwon’s lips. he was taken aback by this action (since you two weren’t big on pda) but it didn’t stop his smile from growing. as your face lit up in bright red, sunghoon sitting on a nearby couch giggled.

"y/n, i think you’re sick. not only you look like that but also you just kissed jungwon–"

your boyfriend’s features dropped immediately and you had to admit, it was a bit scary. his eyes stared into sunghoon’s soul and you heard his older friend gulping.

“ah, i didn’t mean it that way. i meant– sick, like… that’s sick! way. good… way… okay, i’ll go now” sunghoon mumbled and even while he was leaving, jungwon’s stare was burning a hole in his back.

┆彡 NIKI [ 니키 ]

…

do i even need to say something??

teases you, a lot >:(

poking your cheeks, making comments, doing stuff that causes you to redden even more

but he knows when he crosses the line (which doesn’t happen often, fortunately)

but even if… one pout of yours, a fake smile or sad glint in your eye and he’s like… reprogramming himself and mumbles apologies or lets go

you know he means it, teasing is just kind of his love language

(but he really won’t stop cheering you up again if he made you sad!! won’t let go until he hears a laugh escaping your mouth)

“you look like you just ate a whole pot of spicy noodles” niki giggled as if he wasn’t the reason of your blush in first place. you moved your hand away from his, glancing at him. is it really that bad…?

you wanted to stand up and go cool up your face with cold water but riki grabbed your hand, pulling you down. there was a serious look in his face, realisation sinking in.

“but it’s cute, you know? i didn’t mean it in a harsh way, it’s just…” he stutters, trying to gather his thoughts. you just smiled, pecking his lips. it just warmed his heart how you knew that he’s not too good with words and– “look who’s blushing now though. what did you say? spicy noodles–?”

riki squirmed away from your grip and you started chasing him around to take a closer look at his rosy cheeks.

┆彡 SUNGHOON [ 성훈 ]

he's actually sweet about it (sometimes)

because, yes, of course, he will tease you just to see that blush creeping up on your cheeks and then will proceed to joke about it

but the second he sees you're getting all red because of unwanted attention or getting nervous, he's next to you

both of you wanted to go home and you were about to do so when you, unfortunately, parted ways. someone wanted to talk so sunghoon and you were greeted by some random girl that swore she saw you somewhere. and as sunghoon was done talking, he started searching for you.

and then his eyes caught your reddening face and lips forming into a nervous smile. your boyfriend rushed to you, unnoticingly grabbing your hand.

"sorry to interrupt you but we-- uh, we have to go. i left the stove on" he said with a small smile and dragged you away from the clearly puzzled girl. you let out a sigh of relief and once you were safe in the elevator, blood washing off from your cheeks.

"that was such an awkward convo, i said so much dumb stuff... i feel like an idiot" you mumbled, playing with your fingers.

"that's why i rescued you" sunghoon grinned and you decided to hide in the crook of his neck (even if it was just the two of you now)

mans will sacrafice himself to get you out of an awkward convo, literally

and as much as he gets you (getting nervous or shy after saying something dumb lmaoo), he finds it cute too

plus he would be lying if he said that it doesn't make his heart skip a beat if you blush because of him

┆彡 SUNOO [ 선우 ]

the moment you told him you blush easily when you get flustered or nervous, he knew he has to protect you at all costs :((

even if he uses it as a "biting back" card while bickering with each other, he's absolutely protective if someone strange points it out or is the reason of your embarrassment

and internally... someone save this boy because is it normal for a human heart to beat THAT fast ?? obv when he sees your face in blushy state

he loves to squish your cheeks when they are completely red and he’s so giggly about it help

overall he’s very precious i luv him sm

you sighed, placing your hands on your cheeks to hide the redness even a bit. heeseung just grinned at your reaction and the door suddenly opened, sunoo walking in. a crease formed between his brows when he noticed you(r flushed face).

"hyung, what did you say to her?" sunoo whined and sat next to you, causing you to redden even more. heeseung was taken aback by his younger reaction, especially when sunoo continued "i swear if you were making fun–"

"it was about you, dumbass" heeseung laughed and left the room, leaving you two. sunoo turned his eyes to you, curiosity in them. you let out a sigh while he gently took off your hands from your cheeks.

"it’s just… we were talking about you… and how cute you are… and that maybe, i dunno– iseeyouinmyfuture" you mumbled quickly, hoping you wouldn’t have to repeat it again.

"you see me in your future?" sunoo chocked out and as you hid your face in his neck, he swore his heart is going to rip itself out from his chest. he grinned to himself as he saw a glimpse of your red neck.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist: @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @lhsng ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount

#enhypen fluff #enha fluff #riki enhypen #enha heeseung #enha sunoo #enha jake #enha jay #enha jungwon #enha sunghoon #enha x reader #enha soft hours #enha reactions #enha scenarios #enha x you

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