#say it with your chest honey!!! don’t be shy!!! don’t mumble it in passing!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samstree · 3 years

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A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #getting together #requited love #kissing #hand holding #winter at kaer morhen #soft jaskier #geralt of rivia blushes

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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~ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 ; Chan x fem!reader, slight choking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it bitch), exhibitionism, clitoral stimulation, fingering, nicknames, thigh,,, rubbing?, nipple play, dirty talk, cum, orgasm (m/f), getting caught oop.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2,4 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; yes yes!! thank you anon!! this is my last request as well heh

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; another song that is very dear to my heart,,, although for a kinda sad reason but we wont get into that lmao-

also i laughed while writing this because idk some of the descriptions are like,,, SO FUCKING WEIRD I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS IS

23. “Should I be quiet?” ; The Neighbourhood - Nervous

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

The small room was rather dark, only the moonlight reflecting it’s light through the window as the four walls were filled with small snores and the occasional turning of the blankets. That wasn’t coming from just your boyfriend that lied next to you in a peaceful slumber but the three other boys that had passed out in the room after watching a movie. You sighed, this wasn’t the most appropriate time to be needy but there was nothing you could do about it. No matter how much you turned and twisted the lewd thoughts stuck to your head like gum to the sole of a shoe.

You looked at Chan, his slow breath tickled against your face, his face slightly puffy from all the snacks he ate before bed, his cheek squished against the pillow and you felt bad for thinking such sinful thoughts about him when he was right beside you. You scooted closer to him, unknowingly rubbing against his thigh and not letting your eyes divert from his face for even a split second, heart thumping at the thought that he could wake up at any moment. You let out a tiny whimper, biting your lip and coating it with a sheen of saliva, your face and ears heating up as the gain of friction between your clothed dripping cunt and his bare thigh got to you. Waking him up would just be mean, he worked so hard during the day so surely he deserved a good nights rest but at the same time,,, maybe he needed a way to relieve his stress?

The sensation was just too good, you quickly stripped yourself from your pyjama pants, leaving you in Chan’s oversized shirt and your soaking panties that were sticking to your wet folds, a little patch of slick staining them. Before you knew it you were back to humping his leg like a desperate puppy, just a little longer and then you’ll stop and sleep like you were supposed to. Wrapping your arms around his torso you rolled your hips upwards, trying to aim all the pleasure towards your clit but not really succeeding, however it did still feel good, the bundle of nerves aching for more, aching for a touch. Frustration built up inside you as you could practically hear your heart beating in your ears from nervousness and arousal, you really didn’t want to wake him up.

“Please fuck me Channie~" you whispered weakly, hoping he didn’t hear it or anyone else in that room for that matter. You held one hand over your mouth as the pleasure got too intense, movements getting bolder as you grinded against his relaxed thigh, moving your hips from side to side sometimes and squirming around, your forehead creased, muscles on edge. Maybe the thrill turned you on even more? And even if this was good enough you craved more, maybe you wanted more thrill. You halted your movements before you poked him on the shoulder but got no response, him lying as still as a log, only his chest rising slowly, lungs filling with air. You sighed, there was no use you thought until he grunted lowly, stretching his arms and furrowing his eyebrows, you hurried to turn around, back against him as you shut your eyes tightly, pretending to sleep.

“Baby?” he said in a deep raspy voice, confused as to what your whimpers from earlier were coming from.

“Y-yeah?” you whispered back, turning back to him and acting sleepy, eyes half-closed. He chuckled slightly and you heightened your eyebrows in perplexity, wondering what he was smiling about.

“You know I heard everything?” he said, eyes still closed as he mumbled, his sly smirk still on his lifeless lips. Your eyes widened, your figure froze in shock, with a fake laugh you tried to cover up the situation.

“H-heard what? Did something happen?” you lied, caught off guard by his answer.

“I don’t know,,, all I heard was someone asking to fuck me” he said, almost bursting into laughter as he opened his eyes slowly, seeing your priceless expression. You shy away from him, wanting to sink under the surface of the earth but just as you wanted to turn around and forget about every single thought in your mind you felt his warm hands traveling from your clothed chest to your abdomen and ultimately your cunt, hand slipping under the elastic band of your panties with fingers that inspect the soppiness between your legs. You moan at the sudden contact, pressing your thighs together.

“Shh,,, easy now, you’re so wet, hm? What were you thinking about?” he says lowly close to your ear, hot breath bouncing off the shell of your ear. You scrunch your nose at the ticklish feeling, lifting your shoulder up to your ear and giggling slightly. Chan gives you a peck on the lips before his fingers explore more of your needy sex, his familliar hands lightly grazing your already swollen clit. He rubbed the bud in small circles with two fingers, your hands going down underneath the covers and grabbing his wrist as the speed increased, your breath hitching at the sensation that returned, the start of a deep feeling inside your core.

“e-ehm,,, was thinking about,,, you making me feel good” you whimpered out, too shy to say anything more, your hair covering your face slightly from the way you squirmed around, the bed creaking occasionally.

“Making you feel good? How did I do that?” he said with that grin on his face as if he didn’t know anything, sounding completely innocent despite the scandalous actions that were going on underneath the thin fabric of your panties. You let go of his wrist as he inserted two fingers into your hole, prodding them at your entrance and feeling you clench. It was time to get revenge, he couldn’t just gain pleasure from seeing you weak for him and so your hand gently palmed him through his underwear, earning an unexpected grunt from the boy.

“w-with your dick” you answered to his question in lack of any other answer. His hips bucked against your hand, begging for more with his body and you complied, giving his cock a firm squeeze, moving your hands up from the base towards the tip, teasing it with your thumb. He was becoming rock solid in your hand, cock twitching in your grasp. You giggled, you weren’t the only needy one now.

“Ah yeah? You sure you want to do this here babygirl?” he whispered back to you to which you nodded, his fingers plunging into your hole and curling up towards your g-spot, a well-known sensation spreading throughout your body, his slick-covered fingers playing with your clit again until your squirmed as he touched it directly causing you to flinch. He got on top of you, hovering mere inches from your face and after a long look into your lost moonlit eyes he attached his lips on yours, exhaling unsteadily as your tongues met almost immediately in a romantic daze. Your noses bumped against each other, Chan chuckling momentarily before setting an even pace with his tongue, your small whimpers blending into the sound of lips smacking against each other. Your hands that were previously cupping his cheeks descended down his chest, tugging on the thick band of his boxers but your arms not reaching far enough to pull them off. Your boyfriend smirked, breaking the kiss and moving away from you in order to strip himself from his underwear, leaving him completely exposed to you before he got on top of you again, pulling the covers over him. Before anything else happened you quickly shimmied out of your soaked panties, Chan’s hands lifting up your shirt, exposing the supple valleys of your tits, his hands fondling your boobs right away, thumbs swiping over the already erect nipples. It felt oddly naughty to be doing this with three other boys in the room, being almost completely naked with Chan above you, his lips exploring your neck, leaving small kisses and marks as he nibbled on the skin. You whimpered, your hands tangled in his dark hair as you turned your head to the other side, granting him more access. He got even more worked up by your small sounds that dripped from your lips like sticky sweet honey, you wrapping your legs around his waist causing the base of his cock to press up against your hot cunt, pressing him closer to you because you were hungry for more, the slightest contact would do. Chan left a final kiss on your lips before grabbing the base of his cock and lining it up with your sopping entrance, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“a-are you ready, angel?” he murmured close to you, you humming a small yes as the tip of his cock glided against your wet folds, pushing in gently as you pressed your lips together, furrowing your eyebrows at the initial stretch, your tight cunt enveloping his cock between your velvety walls. He groaned at the feeling, pushing into you further and eventually bottoming out, now balls deep into your aching pussy. Your arms were around his head as he started to suck on your nipples, gently rolling his hips after you’ve adjusted to his size, no matter how much he fucked you, his size never failed to fill you up to the brim, making you scratch his back and leave it covered in red streaks.

“fuck,, you feel so good” you moaned a bit too loud, Chan looked up at you in panic, you slapping a hand over your mouth as you peeked at the boys that lied on a pile of cuddles close to you.

“should I be quiet?” you whispered to which Chan nodded.

“what kind of question is that? of course” he whispered back through a clenched jaw, his hips slamming into you faster and harder for each minute. You tried biting the inside of your cheek, your entire body jolting upwards and making the bed creek with every thrust, it was simply impossible to be quiet and neither could Chan that was slowly but surely losing his own pace, a vein on his neck popping out from the composure that was needed to keep quiet. He glanced at the boys that were lying completely still, only a small snore from one of them. You turned your head to the other side, your neck being exposed to him once again, his hand automatically wrapping around your neck snuggly, making the situation a thousand times hotter. Being choked and fucked by your hot boyfriend next to a pile of his friends? Hot.

The mattress moved as he thrusted into you, a slight squelching sound of your dripping cunt being audible to the two of you. You tried holding on to anything in your reach but finally settled for Chan’s back, digging your nails into his skin as you panted, sweat beading on his temples as his thrusts were getting harder, your tits bouncing in the same pace.

“f-fuck, you drive me crazy y/n” he said, tightning the grasp around neck, you pressing the back of your head against the pillow as you clenched around him, a feeling burning in the pit of your core that was only getting closer.

“Channie~ I love you” you whispered, clenching your teeth causing your words to sound almost violent but you meant it in the most loving way possible, he was yours and you were his. He chuckled silently, you seeing the outline of his soft facial features in the dimly lit room, he whispered it back to you, bending down and rubbing the tip of his nose against your sleepy cheeks before pressing a wet kiss near your ear, his hips repeatedly slamming against you and knocking the breath out of you. Your lips parted, a string of whispered pleas escaping them as you clawed at his back, clenching vigoursly and arching your back as your orgasm washed over you uncontrollably, knocking you completely dumb. There was something incredibly hot in seeing your scrunched erotic expression that sent Chan over the edge, your whimpers that were only getting louder and louder being the most beautiful sound in the earth to his ears. His thrusts got sloppier and uneven, pinning your legs to the bed and spreading them further causing you to squirm at the new aim he got, hitting that spot that almost hurt in overstimulation. Being quiet was completely thrown out the window.

He pulled out of your hole, his cock glistening as he grabbed onto the shaft, stroking himself to completion. The hot cum spurted against your boobs in white ribbons, dripping down your heaving chest as you tried to stabilize your breath, your hands by either side of your head. He groaned as he milked himself from every ounce of cum, the angelic view of his lover being covered in his cum almost made him hard again. All energy was consumed from the sweaty boy that plopped down beside you, the weight of the bed shifting as he lied down next to you, grabbing a pillow that had somehow fallen off the bed during the recent activities. He turned to you, you turned your head towards him and smiled before pressing a kiss on his lips, really not wanting to get up and clean up after his mess. You snuggled closer but were caught off guard when you heard a voice behind you.

“yah,,, Chan can really put it down” Changbin said in a deep voice, both you and Chan bolting up and watching the three boys that looked like they were still in a nice slumber.

“you awake?” you asked, thinking that maybe Changbin talked in his sleep.

“we were all awake because how the fuck do you sleep when someone is moaning into your ear” Felix answered, still facing away from you, slurring his words, his mind still not functioning despite being conscious. You thought your heart sunk, in panic turning to Chan that was just as surprised as you, his ears turning bright red, despite it being so dark in the room you could still see how the skin tinged a pretty color of embarrassment.

“I can’t wait until Hyunjin hears this tomorrow” Jeongin laughed, the other two boys joining in with his laughter, their eyes still closed and faces covered in sleepiness.

That was the price of had to pay when having sex with your boyfriend beside his dormmates.

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes—” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #Frankie morales fanfic #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie x reader

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jobean12-blog · 3 years

Text

Lumberjack in Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Lumberjack AU)

Word Count: 1,580

Summary: You’re new to town and you meet your very first neighbor.

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club drunk drabbles and clean up the archive challenge. It took me a minute to grab his great prompt up buy my lovely friend @eurynome827 totally inspired me and boom here it is. Hope you enjoy. I really liked writing this! Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ My beautiful divider is by my love @imerdwarf

Warnings: sweet and soft fluff, shy Bucky being a sweet hunk of beefy goodness :)

As you sit on the small porch of your new house and look around you still can’t believe the beauty of the mountains. It’s early Spring so the mornings are still chilly, and you pull your blanket scarf tighter around your shoulders.

A distant bark catches your attention, and you squint through the trees to see a white fluff bounding right toward you. Your first instinct is to run into the house but then you hear the deep voice of the man running after the animal and you pause.

As they get closer you can clearly see it’s a large dog and instantly relax.

“Winter! Come back here right now!” the man yells just as the dog happily trots up your steps.

He nudges his nose under your hand for a pet and you can’t help but oblige.

“Winter!” the man growls and you instantly look up.

And you keep looking up for what feels like miles until you reach the crystal blue eyes of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His long chestnut hair is pulled back into a low bun, but a few pieces have come loose and now frame his perfectly shaped jaw.

Your eyes wander over his plump lips and dark beard before you take in the rest of him. The soft flannel he wears is pulled tight over his broad shoulders and chest with the sleeves rolled up and barely containing his biceps.

The leather belt at his waist is worn and soft but seems pointless when the dark jeans he’s wearing are practically painted onto his thick thighs. Heavy boots cover his feet as they seem to continuously shuffle back and forth while you shamelessly check him out.

You stand and hold out your hand, introducing yourself. At first he just stares at you then down at your hand before wiping his own on his pants. His large hand closes around yours, the warmth and strength sending a new wave of appreciation through you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he says quietly, holding onto your hand a bit longer than necessary before quicky letting go and shuffling on his feet again.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky,” you reply, pointing at the dog. “And who is this?” you ask.

“Oh! Right. That’s Winter. Sorry about that. He took off after a squirrel and then he must have caught your scent. There aren’t too many people around here so…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“He’s beautiful,” you gush, scratching Winter behind the ears but never taking your eyes from Bucky.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips and his mouth opens but nothing comes out. After a few more seconds of silence, he seems to find his voice.

“Thanks! He’s a good boy, just adventurous. I hope he uh, didn’t disturb you or anyone else,” he mumbles, gesturing toward your house.

“Not at all,” you assure him. “It’s just me and I’m happy he came to say hello and brought you along too. You’re the first neighbor I’ve met.”

“I think I’m your only neighbor,” he laughs. “I’m just about a quarter of a mile that way and I think the next house might be two and half miles passed me.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s you. And Winter is just a bonus,” you flirt.

The pink that creeps up his cheeks only makes you like him more and can’t stop your giggle.

“I’m about to make some blueberry muffins. Could I bring you some when they’re done?” you ask. “I can’t eat them all myself.”

“Yeah! I love muffins! Thank you,” he replies with a lopsided grin.

“Ok great! I’ll see you soon,” you cheer, giving him a beaming smile. “Just that way right?” you ask him, pointing at the path in the trees.

“Huh?” he answers, staring and blinking a few times. “Oh, yea. My house. It’s uh, yep just down that path, can’t miss it.”

He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and kicks at some imaginary dirt.

“Ok then, I’ll see you soon Bucky and Winter,” you say and start to walk up your steps.

He waits for you to get to the door and open it before waving and jogging off, Winter hot on his heels.

When the blueberry muffins are baked and still warm you pack them up with some butter and start the short walk to Bucky’s house. The path is lined with stones and the tall evergreen trees create a beautiful aromatic frame along the dirt. The sound of cracking wood reaches your ears the closer you get.

At the end of the path the land opens up to large piece of green grass with the perfect log cabin sitting at the back. You smile when you see Winter sitting on the porch, his big and fluffy tail thumping loudly on the wood.

You look to the right and finally see the source of the sound. Bucky stands over a pile of wood and a large tree stump, wielding a large axe with ease. He brings it up above his head and swings it down, splitting the wood perfectly.

It’s hard to tear your eyes away from him and the way his muscles move under the tight clothing. It isn’t until Winter’s cold nose hits your leg that you look away and start walking again.

Winter’s happy barks pull Bucky’s attention from the wood and he turns to you. He sets down the axe and comes over to take the basket from your hands.

“Hi again,” he says sweetly, quickly looking at the muffins before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m glad you came back.”

You hook your arm through his. “Of course, I did,” you state obviously and pull him toward the porch. “Who else am I going to share these muffins with.”

He chuckles and dips his head, unable to hide the permanent flush on his cheeks whenever he’s around you.

“We could sit on the porch swing if you want. Or if it’s too cold you’re welcome to come in,” he tells you. “I could make tea. Do you drink tea? I also have coffee if you prefer. Or something cold? I should have lemonad…”

He’s about to go on but you reach up and place your hand on his cheek.

“Tea is just fine Bucky, thank you,” you say softly. “And we can sit out here. It’s so beautiful and the sun is warm.”

He nods a few times before rushing into the house to make the tea. You sit on the swing and prepare the muffins, gently pushing yourself back and forth with your foot. Winter lays just a few feet away in a warm patch of sunshine.

“Ok, hot tea coming right up,” Bucky says as he pushes the screen door open with his butt.

He sits opposite you on the bench, the basket of muffins between you and places the cups on the small table to the side.

“I brought honey, milk and sugar. I hope one of those will be ok,” he says.

“Perfect, thank you! I hope you like the muffins. I have butter for them too,” you say, holding one up on a napkin.

He takes it and has a bite, the crumbling dough breaking apart and getting stuck on his lips and in his beard.

“Wow. These are amazing,” he raves before taking another large bite.

You move the basket from between your bodies and shift closer to him. You bring your fingers up to his chin and lightly brush off the crumbs before swiping your thumb over his lips.

“They’re very crumbly and messy,” you explain, letting your gaze settle on his mouth before taking a bite of your own muffin.

“They’re perfect,” he stammers, clearly reacting to your touch.

His eyes watch as your tongue traces your lips to clean them of crumbs and he audibly swallows.

“These are amazing,” he mumbles, unmoving.

“You said that already,” you tease, squeezing his bicep before reaching for a cup of tea.

“Did I?” he says, more to himself than you. “I did. Didn’t I?”

You nod with a giggle and take a sip of tea. Winter trots over and rests his nose on the edge of the swing, clearly waiting for someone to share.

“Can I give him a piece?” you ask.

“Sure,” Bucky replies, laughing when Winter scarfs down the piece of muffin in one bite. “That’s one of the ways we’re the same. He loves to eat as much as I do.”

You throw your head back with a laugh.

“Well, that works out just great for me because I love to bake and cook!” you tell him. “As a matter of fact, I’m making pot pie for dinner. You should join me.”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate for a second when he answers.

“I’d love that. Pot pie is on of my favorites.”

You take one last sip of your tea before standing and covering the muffins.

“The rest are for you,” you say, pushing the basket toward him. “And I have a feeling you’ll say that about a lot of the things I make,” you say playfully. “I’ll see you at 6 sharp then?”

“Yes, definitely,” he whispers, his eyes going wide when you lean in to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See you then, Bucky. And don’t forget to bring Winter and an appetite,” you yell as you head back down the path to your house.

@addikted-2-dopamine @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @fxckbuckyscoming @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @jewels2876 @littleredstarfish @lookiamtrying @lorilane33 @loricameback @la-cey @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @cherryblossomskye @tuiccim @whatrambles @white-wolf1940

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky au #lumberjack!bucky #lumberjack!bucky au #bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #hbc drunk drabbles #hbc clean up the archive challenge

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generallybrontidefeelings · 3 years

Text

Stressed: a Train Ride Interlude

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Warnings: smut, sex, teasing, sweet soft man, unadvisable train sex, please use protection, no voyeurism, part of the Stressed universe

A/N: Two things! Big thanks to @leias-rebelion for listening to my slutty thoughts and ambitious timetables, you are darling. Big thanks to @honestly-shite for her beautiful, lovely drawing of reading chair Marcus 💛 It sent me into a tizzy. He is the softest, handsomest alsdjfa *ahem* I'm fine. I'm not crying.

.....

You’d said a month ago that you missed the beach. Now you were on a train heading toward it. So what that it’s the end of September, Marcus had said, it will be romantic, and we’ll see the leaves changing.

So you were on a train speeding toward Massachusetts. The amber and canary yellow foliage was gorgeous, and you felt giddy in your sweater and comfy socks. You hadn’t felt this excited for a trip in...forever. Being graduated and finding a part-time job you had autonomy over revitalized you. And the sweet man sitting across from you in his reading glasses and soft henley inspired you to lean into the romantic part of this trip he claimed existed.

So what that it’s the end of September, you had snarked to him when he asked if your skirt - and lack of tights - was going to be warm enough. It will be romantic. He’d swallowed his tongue.

“Do you want to see?”

Marcus looks up from his copy of Women, Art, and Society with a questioning look written on his face. He’d been studiously examining the same page for nearly ten minutes, all while giving your bare legs stretched out in front of you longing glances every few breaths. There’d been no time this morning between breakfast and making it to the station on time for anything intimate. The bustling of the train carriage underneath your seats sent your knees softly bumping into his.

“Pardon?” he asked.

You tap his thigh with your booted foot, the cool air of the train carriage brushing your skin, and watch his eyes dip to your foot, your knee, the hemline of your skirt, before landing on your face.

“Do you want to see?” you ask. Marcus’s eyes widen as they dip to your hemline again, and you watch his chest heave once while red creeps around his ears.

“It’s not weird,” you tell him softly, drawing his focus. “I want to show you.”

Just as he opens his mouth, a voice passes by the compartment door, and his eyes lock rigid on the frame, shoulders tensing. The change knocks the wind out of you, watching him go from the sweetest, shy man to the alert special agent. Once the voice fades down the carriage he looks back at you.

“Let me see.”

Biting inside your lip, you let your knees fall open, then lift one booted foot to rest on his thigh so he has a good view up your skirt to your bare skin. Marcus’ eyes fall shut, and he takes a deep, controlled inhale.

“You bad thing,” he breathes, staring between your legs where you neglected to wear anything. Shaking his head, he turns the page of his book. “You bad, bad, bad thing.”

….

The train rumbles along over old, well-oiled tracks toward Plymouth, and Marcus is still awake.

He’s been waiting. Biding his time. Since your little stunt earlier, teasing him with what he shouldn’t have, he’d been scheming.

Dinner passed, and he kept his hands to himself in the dining car, despite your side-long glances. Twilight fell, and he kissed your temple as you snoozed off with his jacket draped over your lap. But now it was dark outside, with a low crescent moon and the ambient clinking of metal ornaments around through the carriage to break up the heavy roll over the tracks.

He slid closed the bolt for the door, and drew the blinds around the door before giving your knee a shake.

“Hey,” Marcus says, brushing his knuckles across the back of your hand. “Wake up, honey.”

“‘M awake,” you mumble, and lift your head to smile into his warm brown eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” he says and kisses your nose, nuzzling it with the tip of his. His voice drops, a low register that makes your back twist. “You know when you showed me under your skirt earlier?”

You make your best innocent eyes at him. “I may recall.”

Humming, he leans away and sits back in his seat with his hands on his thighs, giving you those eyes, the ones that say I know what you were up to.

“I want to see again.” And he pulls his jacket off your bare legs.

Angling your hips, you let your leg rest on him again, and he groans at the sight, feeling himself fill from your bareness.

You watch eagerly as he reaches down and undoes his belt. “Get over here, sweetheart" His voice is clover green sweet.

Nodding, you rise languidly and set your knees on either side of his hips. You’d been dripping all afternoon waiting for him to do something other than rub circles into your calf with his warm fingers while he read. Now you balanced on his shoulders while he shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free himself against his stomach.

You inhaled sharply as he ran his hands up your thighs to bunch your skirt around your waist.

It didn’t take much, some spit from your mouth on his length, some of your slick spread gently by his probing fingers, and he notched himself in you. You worked him into your body together until you were flush on his lap, filled to the brim and shaking. You licked into his mouth and squeezed around him, which made him grip hard behind your knees.

When you bunched his shirt in your fists on his shoulders and started to roll your hips at a faster pace, he stopped you.

“Slow, honey,” he cooed against your lips. “Like this.” His heavy hands on your hips led you in a tantalizing dance over his length that made the heat in your belly burn white hot.

“Marcus,” you whined, “I want to go faster.”

He guided your movements, down, down down, until you keened from him stuffing you - you fell onto his shoulder when he banded one arm around your middle to keep you close to his chest which rose and fell in deep movements, betraying him. Jostling from the train made you gasp, and clench hard around him.

“I know, honey,” he said, cupping the back of your head. He kisses your ear. “Bad girls don’t get what they want though.”

tag list (let me know if you do or do not want to be tagged!)

@leias-rebelion @sarahjkl82-blog @honestly-shite @danniburgh @missredherring @melispunk @leonieb

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #stressed: train ride interlude

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undersero · 3 years

Text

So Well

this is my contribution to march magic, the server collab for @buttershouse

please note: i originally chose for my work to take place during sengoku period japan, but overall there is little significant or identifying factors to support this, so generally it's more of an old world au.

pairing: shinsuke kita x fem reader

warnings: arranged marriage (but kita and reader are in love bc i'm a sap), unprotected vaginal sex, gushing, era-appropriate mentions of the gods/ a higher power, passing mention of era-appropriate expectations regarding sex, flirty and playful kita

word count: 3.2k

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost this work.**

Kita is a very gentle, loving husband. His hands, calloused from work, always touch you tenderly. Fingertips graze your cheeks as he gazes at you, eyes full of fondness. Soft, sturdy palms smooth over your hair as you lay your head on his chest. Heavy, meaningful nudges as he slides his arms around your waist and smooths his hands up over your breasts. Strong and capable arms tug you into his side while you lay in your bed, being surrounded by his warmth and comfort.

He does little things for you, too. Kita loves preparing your tea for you in the afternoon. It’s never anything special, simple Jasmine tea with a dollop of honey, but he takes great pride in making it for and presenting it to you. He easily reaches tall things and can move things that your arms cannot securely move. More often than you’d initially ever expected, Kita flirts with you- little winks, sometimes he pokes your ticklish sides, tugs affectionately on your hair, kisses the top of your head, bumps your noses together gently.

Kita, who is still so stuck in his ways and his routine, so carefully and lovingly fit you into it so seamlessly it was as if you’d been there all along. He took time for you, to acclimate you into what life on the farm was like; and it was here, amongst all the patience and kind, reassuring smiles, that you truly fell in love with him.

Each morning and each evening, he goes through the garden with you, picking what’s ripe, plucking weeds as needed, and watering. It’s quiet, as things normally are when there’s work to be done, but it’s never awkward. It’s more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Love doesn’t need constant chatter, and for the two of you, silence works just as well.

Kita is a supportive, loving husband. You couldn’t have chosen a better one if you’d been given the chance.

And if you had been given the chance, if you got to keep what you knew about Kita, you’d pick him every time.

One year ago, when all this started, when you met your future husband for the first time, you were indifferent about the arrangement, and so was he. Being married wasn’t about love or desire, not in the world you two lived in; instead, being married solely revolved around connections, prestige, and social standing. The only silver lining you’d allowed yourself to hope for was that your future husband would be handsome.

And he was. When you first saw him, you were taken aback by his features. You adored and continue to enjoy the direct, honest way he looked at you, how he carried himself with such pride and reliability. The first time you held his hand, feeling it so warm and rough, but gentle all the same, it felt like you’d simply float away, up into the clouds. It was nice. It comforted you, and comfort in love was a luxury you hoped for, but one you never thought you could afford.

One year… it seems both like a lifetime and a second. But now you couldn’t imagine yourself being anywhere else, or being with anyone else. The choice to marry Kita was never yours, but it was one you would make again and again if you could.

Kita, a man of honest words and sometimes hurtful truths, would pick you over and over, too. It was like the gods had been watching you both your whole lives and wove your fates together as a blessing to you both.

Presently, the night is dark and quiet. Millions of stars shine overhead, and a light breeze rustles the broad, green leaves of the trees surrounding your home. Fireflies flicker in the fields and insects chirp. In the distance, an owl hoots. Your barn is closed up for the evening, and from within comes the soft, distant sounds of your resting livestock. All is calm and quiet.

Soft sheets whisper against your bed as Kita pulls them back and slides in next to you. You know he’s in a mood, a playful one, when he gently tugs your book from your hands, careful to slide the bookmark back inside so you don’t lose your page. Even when he’s being frisky, he’s thoughtful, and this fact is just as exciting to you as the way he starts kissing your cheek and rubbing your sides.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he mumbles, sliding his lips over to yours. You smile against his lips, sliding your hands through his soft hair and tugging, just a little, at the nape of his neck.

“Only a little bit,” you tell him, giving his hair another tug as he groans at the first one. You nudge your noses together before continuing, “but something tells me you aren’t bothered that you interrupted. Not really, at least.”

He hums thoughtfully, as if considering what you’ve said, though you both know fully well that not only did he know he was interrupting, he’d planned on it and fully intended to do so.

“How lucky I am to have such a smart wife who knows me so well,” he says, sliding his hands over your hair.

“Shinsuke, you flatter me,” you chide, heat blossoming through your body as your heart flutters.

“It’s only a portion of what you deserve, dear.”

“Is that so?” you ask, voice quivering the tiniest bit around the edges. Anticipation sets in.

“Mmmm, it is,” he hums, kissing along your face once again before kissing down to the side of your throat, nosing at your pulse and using a gentle but heavy hand to tilt your head to grant him more access to the soft, delicate skin.

“Care to indulge me?” he asks against your throat, “Let me give you more?”

Your heart pounds harder in your chest and suddenly, the space between you and your husband is too vast. You need him closer, more immediate, you need to feel his skin against yours and his mouth on every part of your body.

“How could I say no when you ask so nicely?”

Your voice comes out like a whisper, it’s shaky and needy in a way you’ve only discovered with this man, with your husband, in your bed. Kita slides on top of you, your book tumbling to the floor with a thump and the noise falling on deaf ears. He quickly slides one of his thighs between yours and captures your mouth in a loving, needy kiss.

His lips are soft, but slightly chapped, a side effect from working long hours in the sun. The way his mouth molds to yours is like a dream, something that brings butterflies to your belly, especially when he’s on top of you like this. It’s something you never expected to enjoy, and never expected to desire.

“You,” Kita murmurs, pulling away just enough to speak, his lips moving tantalizingly against yours, “are such a sweet little thing. My sweet little wife.”

Your cheeks burn as shyness washes over you like a tidal wave. By some stroke of luck, Kita doesn’t dwell on this or the adorable way you get so shy when he speaks so sweetly to you. Instead, he presses his lips against yours once more, kissing you with more urgency than he had been.

His hands, both gentle and rough, slide up underneath your night shirt, caressing your sides. You arch your back slightly, sharply inhaling as his hands softly grope the swell of your breasts, thumbs circling the peaking nipples.

He smiles so wide when you whimper that it breaks the kiss.

“You sound so lovely,” he whispers to you, nudging your noses together. The tenderness in the moment and his action makes you shiver, the trill in your spine increasing as Kita slides a hand out from under the fabric of your shirt and tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

It’s private and intimate, the way he’s looking at you. His cheeks are a little pink, partially from the sun, partially from the close proximity to you. Your husband’s eyes are dark with excitement and anticipation, though he still looks at you with such warmth and devotion that it’s easy to forget, as you so often do, that you hadn’t picked this man for yourself. But you would, again and again. And he’d pick you.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he murmurs, more for his own benefit than for yours, as he strokes your face tenderly with his fingertips. Finally, you find your voice.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” you say, a nervous smile pulling at your lips. “You deserve to see...how… good and wonderful I think you are.”

He smiles again. Your heart stops.

Kita, your loving, gentle husband, always makes love to you. He doesn’t fuck you, he doesn’t have sex with you. He makes love to you, and that distinction is hugely important, though it’s not something either of you really address or talk about. You were his first. He was yours, as was expected, and as was appropriate and respectable.

He touches you with the utmost adoration, each moment your skin is touching is saturated in love and devotion. Kita is careful to make every thrust, every kiss, every touch meaningful, and he never fails. He excels when it comes to making you feel good, when it comes to making you feel like you matter, that you’re the center of his world, even though you’d only wandered into it barely a year ago under circumstances beyond either of your controls.

Kita loves you, he’s gentle with you, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less hard; if anything, it only makes his love for you more potent, and when he shows you, it’s something so beautiful and pure that you can’t question it, not even if you wanted to. Kita loves you. You know this. You love Kita, and he knows.

Tonight is no different.

As your night shirts come off with the whisper of soft cotton on skin, and as Kita presses his torso against yours, warmth encompasses you. Warmth from proximity, from his sun-kissed skin, from your own love and adoration, and from the butterflies filling your gut. This is neither the first nor the last time your husband makes love to you, but it’s thrilling, as always. Exciting. New. Exhilarating.

Kita smells clean, like soap. He takes great care to wash each day when he returns from the fields; the soft, mild scent fills your nostrils as Kita starts working his lips down your neck once more, hands expertly smoothing over every inch of skin he can reach.

You slide your hands down his sides, one diving between his legs and palming his stiffening cock, a movement that has Kita nipping slightly more sharply on your neck than he had been, and it’s this slight twinge of pain that makes you mewl in delight. It almost feels like Kita’s blushing cheeks will burn your skin, and you love it. You love making him feel this way, making him so bashful… you liked knowing that you had his heart in a special way that no one else would have, and that no one else could know.

Soon, Kita’s breath is labored and his cock is throbbing. His right hand has slid between your legs as well. Deliciously rough fingers slide over your slick, sensitive folds, causing whines and gasps to fall off your lips before you can even register them.

Then, his thumb grazes over your swollen clit, the tiny nub sending a ripple of pleasure through your body that’s so strong it makes you shutter. It isn’t delicate or dainty; your shoulders heave and shake and you gasp, guttural grunt leaving your lips as you do. Something in Kita changes, then, because he’d never heard that sound from you before. He’d never seen you move like that, react to him in such an instinctive and almost animalistic way. He wanted more of it. He needed to make you do it again.

Another swipe. A similar reaction. Another, a similar. Repeat.

Soon, tears sting the corners of your eyes, your hand around Shinsuke’s cock has stilled, hasn’t moved since the first time he touched your clit like that. Wetness spreads through your folds at an obscene rate, making you feel embarrassed but aroused in equal measure. Kita’s eyes meet yours, the darkness of them taking your breath away before his lips crash into yours.

It’s a breathless few moments with mouths and tongues clashing and lips being sharply nipped with clumsy teeth. Your heart hammers against your chest and you swear you can feel the outline of each rib as it does- you swear you can hear each blood cell as it rushes through your ears, you swear the room is spinning as desire overwhelms you, threatens to pull you under and never let you go, threatens to drown you-

“I love you,” says Shinsuke, his soft but ragged-with-desire voice breaking through your thoughts. You blink. The tip of his nose barely touches yours as he gazes down at you with lidded eyes.

Something about his gaze is so intimate that it makes you feel more exposed than you already are in your naked state. You swear that, in that moment, he really sees you, sees everything you ever thought and everything you are, and everything you hope to be. Everything. All of it. Kita sees it and still loves you and that’s terrifying.

But you know that the secrets he sees will be safe. You know he loves you.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, as if you’re in a sacred temple, “I love you more than anything.”

He smiles again, and you’re breathless. And he’s kissing you again.

And then he’s sliding into your core, going slowly and steadily like he always does. It’s natural for him, it’s second nature at this point. Rushing you or hurting you just so he can get some relief doesn’t interest him. If you’re pleased, then so is he. If you feel good, he does, too.

Your cunt is warm and inviting. Kita is amazed with it, as usual, brow furrowing and bottom lip catching between his teeth as he sheaths himself in the wet heat. You’re suddenly so full of him that you swear you can feel the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat. It’s still something you’re getting used to, but you trust Kita, and this does feel good, and before your thoughts can travel any further, he’s swiping his thumb over your clit again.

The pleasure that spasms through you is a different kind. Being so full, being so close, it made you feel everything more strongly, and the whine that left your lips was more high-pitched than any you’d let out previously. Your brows pinch together in pleasure as goosebumps cover your arms.

“You like that, hm?” Kita wonders aloud, voice so rugged with pleasure and so playful that it makes you want to scream and start fucking yourself down on his cock as quickly as possible.

He must be able to read your mind. That’s the only way Kita possibly knows what you’re thinking about, what you’re aching for.

And he starts thrusting slowly, his strong hips moving in a slow, strong, reliable rhythm, one that’s steady but quickly has your eyes rolling shut. Shinsuke’s cock, thick and veiny, drags along your velvet walls, nudging against sweet little nooks that make you whimper in pleasure, pressing against little bundles of nerves that make your toes curl.

You wrap your arms around Kita’s neck, wrapping your legs around his waist, in turn pushing him deeper into your cunt, making you both gasp with pleasure. After a moment to readjust, Kita starts rocking is cock back into you again and finds that steady pace once more. He leans in and presses his lips against yours, leading you into a series of messy, loving kisses that only make your head spin even further. You swear your heart may explode with the love you have for this man and for the way he treats you and how he loves you so perfectly, just the way you need.

You pull away after a moment, pressing your face into his shoulder, once again smelling his soap, but now being confronted with his musky, comforting scent that is solely your husband’s.

It isn’t long before you’re grabbing at him desperately, pressing closer as his hips jerk into you at less controlled speeds, signalling to you easily that Kita is losing his grip on any control he has and is quickly giving in to the delicious and carnal offerings of your core.

Kita groans as you rake your hands through his hair, tugging it and making it stand out at all odd angles, disheveling his normally put-together appearance. His eyes are bleary now, dark as you feel his stomach start to twitch and clench against your own, a sure-fire indication that your husband is going to cum, and soon.

Your cunt clenches around Kita as your own orgasm approaches, and instead of the mind-numbing and goosebump-causing pleasure the swipes to your clit brought at the beginning, each time Kita’s thumb presses against your hard, sensitive, aching little nub, shockwaves of pleasure, almost to the point of pain, shoot through your entire body.

Soon, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold yourself together any longer, not when he’s making love to you so perfectly. You clench almost violently before you feel your orgasm burst forth, gushing around Kita’s cock like the water which escapes a broken dam.

And Shinsuke can’t hold on, not when you’re milking him like that, not when you’ve gushed around him so nicely. He cums, hips pressing forward wildly for a few seconds and then stilling as he moans your name, pressing his forehead into the side of your face.

For several minutes, it’s quiet. From outside, the owl hoots once more in the distance. The breeze rustles the leaves and the insects continue singing their nighttime ballads. Your heart, as well as Kita’s, slows from its breakneck pace, returning to normal, and the glowing, warm pleasure that encompasses your bodies ebbs away at its own pace.

You’re almost afraid to let go, clutching your husband so tightly for comfort, like he’s your lifeline, that letting go seems like a huge step you can’t take. Kita sighs, a smile tugging at his lips, and grabs your hips to pull you more snugly to him.

“I suppose I should have bathed after I came to bed,” he murmurs against your skin, and you huff out a giggle.

Bathing is the furthest thing on your mind- all you can think about is being tethered, held to the earth by your husband’s strong arms. You couldn’t imagine life elsewhere, or with another. Luckily, you’ll never have to- you and Shinsuke will live out your days on the farm, surrounded by your rice, your livestock, and a spouse who loves you so well.

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost this work.**

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #shinsuke kita #kita smut #butter's house #butter's house server collab #march magic server collab

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uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

Bad day for the pros w/ Bakugou, Shinsou and Todoroki

Request: May I ask for some headcanons of pro hero Bakugou, pro hero Shinso and pro hero Shoto, they had a very very bad day at work, some heavy stuff happened and it was their fault, but fear not! y/n is here to save the day with love, good cooking and cuddles to be their hero. (Fem reader if possible)- anonymous

I haven’t written for Shinsou in a while, same goes for Bakugou. Shoto is baby, I can never go for too long without writing for him. My midterms are coming up so I won’t be posting next week at all, I’m stressed and depressed and whenever I think that in June I’ll be taking my university entrance exams I wanna wretch. So yeah life is going great. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: tired babies, fluff, some angst, self doubt.

Bakugou Katsuki

-People really have no chill and poor baby is barely keeping it together.

-He’s minutes away from committing mass murder and man slaughter.

-It’s common knowledge that he has no patience whatsoever and people today seemed to be testing his control.

-But alas finally this awful day was over and he could go back to your shared apartment and relax, eat something and sleep.

-Stepping into the apartment he dropped his duffel bag with a loud thud letting out a sigh as he slowly peeled off his jacket and slipped into his slippers.

- “Katsu?”

-Your sweet voice rang through the halls, your head peeking out from the corner eyes landing on his slumped shoulders and tense features.

-Wordlessly you gently grabbed his hand and guided him into your bedroom.

-Passing him a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie you pushed him into the bathroom where the tub was already filled with steaming hot water.

- “Dinner is almost ready, take your bath and I’ll be waiting.”

-Giving him one last kiss on the lips you exited the bathroom.

-Almost 20 minutes later he came into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stirred the soup.

- “Bad day baby?”

-He only answered with a grunt as he buried his face in the crook of your neck nuzzling his nose in your hair.

-Mumbling something under his breath you let out a chuckle as you gave him a plate and guided him to the living room couch.

-Settling down next to him you kissed him again before digging in.

-Soon enough you were cuddling on the couch, his head on your chest and your hands intertwined.

-You’re running your fingers through his spiky hair, smoothing down the knots as he goes on and on about his awful day.

-People really were pushing his buttons today.

- “You wanna go to bed then?”

- “But it’s early for you.”

-Shrugging you got up taking him with you.

-Once in bed you cuddled again with you being the big spoon since your mans needs some well deserved comfort.

-“No matter how bad your day is I’ll always be here for you.”

- “I know shitty woman.”

- “Awww I love you too.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

-He was tired of people doubting his motives.

-Really it was getting old.

-The mocking and the lingering fear even after five years in the hero industry.

-His agency had booked another meet and greet so they could do some damage control with the hate Hitoshi was getting and of course he couldn’t bring you along.

-He was kinda jealous of your day off.

-Jealous because he wished he could spend time with you and Mochi rather than deal with random strangers changing sidewalks during his patrol.

-He was exhausted as he stepped into your shared apartment that night, Mochi sprawled on the hallway carpet waiting for his other owner.

-Awaiting for his belly rubs with open paws, Mochi ignored the dark aura his master was emanating , or he just chose to ignore it.

- “Didn’t Y/N give you belly rubs? I bet you have been taking my place all day mister.”

- “You know he can’t replace you, love.”

-He looked up only to be met with your dazzling smile and bright eyes although he could see the faint signs of sleepiness clinging to your eyelids.

-He could feel your eyes inspecting him and soon enough he would be kissed and pushed towards the bathroom for a much needed shower because you would see how tired and drained he was.

-He could never get away.

-It was a power you had since high school and try as he might he could never hide his fatigue.

-Before he knew it he was up on his feet, capture tool placed on the hanger near the door and slippers on his feet, a kiss on each cheek and one lingering one on the lips.

-Soon he was soaking in the tub with you behind him massaging his scalp with that special lavender shampoo while humming a soft tune.

-It always amazed him how you could calm him without using words and if he was being honest he wanted to keep it that way, the silence was always nice and he loved basking in your presence but today he really needed to be reassured.

- “Why do you stay with me?”

-Your movements stilled at his words and he could feel your eyes widening.

- “It’s bad publicity for you, you’ve been held back on hero ratings because people believe that you are conspiring with me in some master plan.” he sighed before continuing leaving you no space to speak. “You could have anyone you want. It would make your life 100 times easier if I wasn’t in it.”

-You would have never guessed that those thoughts were running through his head when he walked through the door moments earlier.

-Hugging him closely to your chest you finally spoke.

- “I fell in love with you and you alone. I would never leave you because some pompous asshats keep saying that you are a villain. Hero rankings can go suck it for all I care along with anyone who wants to call you a monster.” Turning around so now you were straddling his lap you cupped his cheeks connecting your foreheads. “I love you with all my heart ‘Toshi, don’t ever forget it.”

-You might be a witch putting him under a spell with your sweet words.

-He believed you and with that he relaxed in your grip, hugging you like his life depended on it because in his eyes, it did.

Todoroki Shoto

-He couldn’t even count how many times he was told he looked like his father today.

-He couldn’t begin to describe how gut wrenching those comments were.

-One would believe that being compared to the retired n.1 would be a big fit for an upcoming hero but not for Shoto.

-The first thought that always runs through his head when those words are heard is his mother.

-The fear in her eyes and how much she hated his left side, to the point of scarring him for life.

-He begins to wonder if you too look at him with such disgust and hatred from time to time.

-He knew of your dislike towards his father since you two were in high school and he finally shared his past with you.

-This undying dislike carried on into your adult life even after multiple family dinners and warm, friendly exchanges with Endeavor.

-Did you also think he was like his father?

-Did you see Endeavor when he walked inside your shared apartment at night?

-He got home before you or at least that's what he remembers.

-You found him with his head resting in his hands and back pressed against the hallway’s wall when you returned from your patrol.

-At first you thought that he was hurt but after he didn’t answer to your fifth call of his name you knew it was more of a mental struggle.

-Crouching down to his level you slowly pried his hands from his face, giving him a smile once his eyes came into view.

-Cupping his cheeks, you brushed your fingers over his scar once, twice before leaning in and giving him a little peck on the nose, then on his forehead, then on each cheek, on his scar and last on his lips.

- “Sho my love, what’s wrong?”

-Your hand was now running through his hair, untangling the soft locks of white as your other still lay on his other cheek, your thumb making small smooth circles on his scar.

- “Do you see me as Endeavor?”

-Taking in a sharp breath you stopped your ministrations for a moment before shuffling closer to him and raising his chin so he would finally meet your eyes.

- “I see Shoto when I look at you. I see the shy boy who wouldn’t sit next to me during movie night in our first year so he wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. I see the boy who overcame his fears and used his quirk. I see the pro hero who has saved hundreds of lives in the three years he has been in the industry. I see the man I’m in love with. So no, I don’t see Endeavor.”

-He looked at you then, really looked at you.

-You were smiling at him, one of your sweet as honey smiles while your eyes almost sparkled as they were locked with his.

-In one swift movement he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you flush to his chest a thousand I love you’s leaving his lips as he kissed senseless.

- “Now would you like some takeout soba from that place you like or homemade soba with my lovely cooking.”

- “I wanna actually eat so takeout.”

- *le gasp*

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @storage11037 @dnarez @wolfkid22 @letscheereachotheron @ezoyscorner @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Aren't you Resourceful? [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Rating: 18+ only.

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, dom/sub dynamic, oral (both m receiving and f receiving), choking, praising, name calling, fingering, it's soft at the end i promise… because no matter what, i’m a sucker for soft! Maxwell.

Author's note: If you see me shamelessly use his quotes from trailers and promos and put them in a sexual context… no you do not. ❤️ (because, spoiler alert, I did that more than once in this fic.)

Word count: 3k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Masterlist

"Well, aren't you resourceful?" he mocked bitterly, his tone dripping with annoyance and sarcasm. You shuddered at the sudden roughness in his voice, the edge of it making you fearful and timid.

"Mr Lord, I- I'm sorry. I guess I just got confused." you found yourself babbling, nervously crossing your arms over your chest as he glared into your eyes. They were normally a shade of honeyed brown but now, they were much, much darker. Everything about him in the moment seemed darker. His eyelids were heavy, a scowl painted across his face and his fists clenched so tight his knuckles had turned white.

"Confused? How could you get confused?" he gritted out, causing a small yelp to escape your lips.

"I- I guess I must've sent out the wrong reports." You bit your lip, looking at your boss apologetically.

"What other fucking reports could you have sent out?" He spat. "What the hell did you send them?"

He was mad. He was very, very angry. You were new, but you had certainly heard horror stories about your boss. You weren't even his assistant, just his receptionist, stationed at a desk outside of his office. You dealt with his visitors and passed along any phone calls for him… but he was the one who had tasked you with a job suited for an assistant. You weren't used to it, it was probable you'd make a mistake. Technically, it wasn't your fault.

And Maxwell knew this. In fact, he half expected you to fuck it up— and now that you had, his plan was in order. Everything was working out. The mild inconvenience over the wrong reports being sent out really wasn't that big of a deal, but he loved seeing how small your frame got when he shouted at you. He admired your comically wide eyes and hunched up shoulders as he talked down to you, and he wasn't going to stop there.

The truth is, Maxwell had his eye on you since you got the job. You were young, fresh faced and bright eyed— unqualified with no experience. It turned a few heads in the office as Maxwell always made sure his employees were the best of the best. You, however, didn't have a superiority complex unlike your peers. You were devastatingly different and Maxwell craved you, perhaps just as much as you craved him.

You thought about him every second of your working day. There was just a wall between you both, and you constantly daydreamed about what it would be like just walk in and sit on his lap. You imagined grinding on him, moaning his name and letting him massage your breasts as you gave him the best ride of his life. Your fantasies were sick, but they didn't stop there.

You'd go home every night to your small, shanky apartment downtown and tune into one of his longer infomercials. He had one broadcast at six o’ clock every evening. You'd discard your panties and sit on the sofa with your legs open, watching him with intent as you touched yourself and imagined your own fingers were his.

"Mr Lord- uhm, sir, please," you fumbled, dragging your feet towards the double doors that led out of his office. "Let me check my desk." his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving his office. Your heart began to race as his fingers curled around you and moved you away from the door.

"Stand over there," he ordered, gesturing aimlessly towards the large bay windows that overlooked the city. He turned back around and locked the door, the clicking noise sending a shiver down your spine. "You… you keep making these mistakes." he began to approach you, stalking towards you with a primal glint in his eye.

"I-, I'm sorry?" you swallowed as he neared you. Maxwell placed two firm hands on your shoulders and pushed you backwards into the window, the coolness of the glass stinging your exposed skin.

"Why?" he beckoned, his fingers curling and pushing your chin up so you were looking at him. You were speechless, your lips parted slightly as you looked up into his eyes. His own gaze travelled across your face and then down your neck, admiring how long and pretty it was… especially as he pointed your chin upwards. He tutted in disapproval when you didn't give him a response. "You're expensive, you know," he muttered. "But there's a reason I keep you around."

You gulped as his hands travelled down to your chest, his fingers beginning to tug at your collar and undo the buttons of your blouse. "Why?" you asked, your gaze not diverting from his once and a sudden rush of confidence jolting through your system.

"Why?" Maxwell repeated, his voice low and sinister. "High heels.. tight pencil skirt… Your blouse makes your tits look fantastic. I know you dress like this to get my attention. I know that's why you visit my office every single day, and you tend to linger in my doorway so I can get a nice look at your ass."

You let out an embarrassing squeak at his words. He really had caught you out. You had done all these things for him, desperate to try and win his attention.

"Let me lift up your skirt. I know how hard you try to tease me, how you wear your skirts shorter and shorter everyday," Maxwell continued, peeling up your pencil skirt so it was rolled up around your tummy. "Wow, such naughty panties for such a shy girl." Maxwell chuckled in surprise, his fingers gracing the lace of your blood red panties. You hummed as they rolled over your lips. "You're already soaking wet." he gasped. "Why don't you take your clothes off and lay down on my desk like a good girl?" Maxwell asked.

You obeyed without hesitation, stripping down until you were completely naked. Maxwell gawked at you, feeling his cock harden in his constricted pants as you padded over to his desk. You made yourself as comfortable as you could, despite the coolness of the expensive oak sending a shiver down your spine. "Now, open your legs and let me see your pussy." You exhaled, nervously spreading your legs open for your boss to examine. "Oh," he mumbled, leaning over to gain a closer inspection. "So pretty."

You felt his breath fan over your cunt, the arousal heading straight to your core. You fluttered your eyes closed as he continued to whisper jumbled up dirty talk about how ravishing you looked. Then, to your surprise, you felt the curve of his nose nudge against your clit as he licked a stripe between your folds. You gasped at the sensation, your toes curling and your fingers clenching into a fist due to the suddenity of it. "You like that don't you?" Maxwell chuckled, continuing to give you little cat licks. "Mm, sweet girl." he praised, latching his lips on your sensitive bud and beginning to suck. His groans of pleasure vibrated through your body and it wasn't long before your orgasm washed over you. He pulled away, his lips puckered and dark pink, as well as his eyes practically black from arousal. "Can I touch you?" he asked softly, and you nodded your head desperately.

Max began to circle your clit, humming in contentment as you squirmed underneath him. "Shh, sit still darling," he muttered lowly, pressing his body on top of yours and grazing his teeth over your jaw. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

"You." you breathed out, shuddering as his movements on your clit began to get faster. Fuck, he was good. "I want you." you re-affirmed, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific," he chuckled darkly. "I know you're shy, princess, but this is just between me and you. Tell me what you fucking want." He growled, the change between his gentle sweet voice and the angry snarl taking you by surprise.

"I-," you moaned as he worked your cunt. You knew if he kept rubbing he'd have you orgasm any second. "I need you inside of me." you gasped, proud you had finally gotten the words out.

"Oh," Maxwell laughed a villainous laugh. "Why didn't you just say so?" Taking his finger from your clit, he inserted it into your dripping hole. It sunk straight in with ease, an obscene wet noise echoing throughout his expansive office. "Like this?"

You couldn't even respond, instead just rolling your hips further down and taking the full length of his finger until you felt his knuckles against your cunt. He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "So needy. So tight too…." he groaned, thrusting his finger in and out of you. He curled it so perfectly that with every movement, his digit hit that sweet spot inside of you. "You want more?" he teased and you nodded, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure washed over you. "Hey, look at me slut. You want more?" he asked again. Your eyes snapped open and you nodded your head impatiently. He pushed a second finger inside of you and you screamed as your hips bucked up. His actions were ruthless and primal as he fingered you hard and fast. Tears pricked your eyes as he kept up his perfect rhythm.

"More." you begged.

"But you're just so tight," he sighed. "You'll never be able to take my cock." he laughed, bringing his own hand down to palm his already throbbing length through his tailored pants. "Please." you muttered as his thrusts became sloppy.

"Ah ah ah, only good girls deserve my cock," Maxwell tsked, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Girls who don't send off the wrong reports, you understand?"

You whined and felt your walls contract against his hand. Evidently, he felt it too. He brought his free hand back to your clit and began to circle it erratically. "Oh, so you're close? Look at you getting off from my hands alone. You want to cum?" you nodded quickly, pieces of your hair falling into your face. "You'll have to earn it." he growled. "Tell me, how often have you thought about this, huh? How often have you imagined I fuck you like this?"

"Ah- all the time." you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up at the revelation, although you had no shame. How could you possibly have shame when you were spread out, completely naked, on your boss’ desk? "T-this morning." you continued, gaining comical wide eyes from Maxwell. He wasn't expecting that.

"Tell me more," he urged, sliding a third finger into your weeping cunt. You groaned and felt your legs begin to shake. "Listen to me sweetheart, if you want to cum I need you to tell me what you were thinking about this morning."

You whimpered. "Max, please."

"What did you call me?" he growled, taking his hand from your clit and wrapping it around your neck. You felt your wetness slick against the skin of your neck as he applied just enough pressure around your throat to make your vision haze.

"Sorr-sorry sir," you gasped and his grip on you loosened. The movements of his fingers were still manic and he hadn't let up once. You were desperate to cum. "This morning when- when I delivered your coffee. You had that meeting and you were standing at the front writing something on the bo-board," you groaned as Maxwell reattached his free hand back to your clit. "And I stood by the- the doorframe for a few seconds and just watched you. Wa-watched the way the muscles in your back flexed as you reached up and the way your bicep stretched around your shirt as you- wrote- wrote-" You couldn't finish. You couldn't. Your orgasm spread like wildfire and Maxwell could sense it too.

"Cum for me baby." Max granted. And with those four words, you became a heaving mess, coming completely undone beneath your boss and soaking his fingers. He doubled out of you without warning and you whined at the loss of his fullness. "Your pussy was even better than I imagined." he revealed, unclipping his suspenders and unzipping his pants, letting them fall down to his ankles. He pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his hard cock to spring out freely. You licked your lips with desire as you examined him— long and thick, his tip beading with precum and it had slowly begun to drip down his length.

"Now I take what I want in return," Maxwell said. "On your knees."

You followed his instruction with a wobble as you clambered off the table and knelt down. You were the perfect height, your face sitting directly in front of his cock. You were still coming down from your high, your eyes feeling heavy. You hummed as he pushed his cock in between your lips, eventually parting them and sliding himself down your throat. Your post coital fog immediately cleared as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag and choke around his length. You steadied yourself, breathing through your nose and clamping your mouth around his cock as you began to slide your head forwards and backwards, taking him the best you can.

The taste of his precum sat well on your tongue, you savoured him completely, knowing that his salty taste would resonate deep in your mind long after this was over. "Fuck," he cursed, his head tipping back and his dark blonde locks of hair falling out of place. He was coming undone, and it was all because of you. His chest began to rise and fall as you took him as deep as you could.

Your hands lifted to cup his balls and you began to massage them playfully. He made the mistake of looking down at you. He was completely enthralled by the way your pretty lips looked wrapped around his cock and your glazed doe eyes framed by your perfect eyelashes. You hollowed your cheeks and smiled around him, wetness dripping from the corners of your mouth. He reached down and gently wiped it away with his thumb, cupping your face and admiring your beauty.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, closing his eyes. He began to subconsciously fuck your mouth, his thrusts slow but passionate. He was deliberately being careful, not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you when you had already been so good for him.

You sat and took it like a good girl, your posture straight and your hands still playing with his balls. It wasn't long before you began to feel his cock twitch in your mouth and he pulled out of you.

"Want you to swallow my load." Maxwell said, but for the first time, his voice sounded weak. He hunched over his still clothed shoulders and began to jerk himself off. You nodded your head eagerly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, sticking out your tongue to show him that you're ready. Within seconds, he was cumming down your throat, his seed roping against your lips and gracing your tongue and even hitting your cheeks and dripping down your chin. When he finished, he shuffled back, admiring your face like it was artwork. You closed your mouths, humming in delight as you swallowed his cum. When you were done you opened your mouth again to prove that it was all gone; that you had done as he wished for.

Maxwell sighed, pulling his pants back up and walking over to his desk drawer. Fumbling with the handle, he eventually got it open and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He walked back over to you and took your hand, pulling you up and sitting you on the edge of his desk. Taking the handkerchief, he carefully cleaned up his remaining mess that was on your skin.

The next few moments were spent in comfortable silence. Your boss tended to you first, before he even bothered cleaning himself up, which certainly took you by surprise. He smoothed out your hair and helped you back into your clothes, taking his sweet time to button up your blouse again and straighten your collar. He even kneeled down and slid your heels onto your feet, fastening the straps and making sure they were comfortable.

"Sir?" you asked nervously, biting your lip. Maxwell looked at you in silence but his gaze urged you to go on. "Uhm, thank you."

He nodded dismissively and you hopped for the desk, limping to the door. As your hand pushed on the handle, he called your name. You took a deep breath, turning around.

"Would you like to go on a date with me, sometime, maybe?" Maxwell asked with a small but nervous smile.

You couldn't believe it, this was the last thing you expected. You shot him a smile back and nodded your head. "Yeah, okay." you agreed before spinning back around and leaving his office.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal smut

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My Two in a Million

Hold your horses, I finally finished writing something! I know it's probably not what you expected and it's definitely not one of my best works, but I feel that if I don't post it now, I will never get out of the slump.

So apologies in advance and I hope you enjoy it a bit anyway! <3

Thank you so much for being so patient with me :)))

Thanks to @knittingdreams @donttouchmycarrots @inloveoknutzy and @asunshinepuff for all your help, love you guys <3

Ao3

Characters belong to @lumosinlove !

Chapter 1

“Lily, why the hell are we out here?” Logan asked, wrapping his arms around himself. He glanced around the hall at the other party guests that were milling about—all of whom had costumes more fitting for the cool weather—and grumbled as he leaned against the wall, a hiss escaping his lips when the cold material touched his bare back.

Lily glanced at him, amused. “It’s not my fault you chose to show off your body when it’s fucking freezing outside.”

“No, it’s Finn’s. He had it stuck in his head that we just had to wear sexy costumes,” Logan rolled his eyes; though he couldn’t deny that he’d been more than happy when he first saw Finn that night. His breath had completely left his lungs when the redhead had stepped out of the bathroom wearing a Spartan costume, smiling like a little kid at his fake sword, his firm abs on display, a familiar trail of red hair disappearing under the wide belt and—

Logan gulped and tried to remember that he was at a party full of people, willing his mind not to think about how he’d felt. Or about how much he was dying to get Finn out of that damn skirt.

“Still, that doesn’t explain why we’re out here instead of inside, where it’s warmer and I could be in my half-naked boyfriend’s arms.”

“Just bear with me, ok? It shouldn’t be long now.”

Logan sighed; he knew better than to try to argue with his friend. “So how’s your business going?” he asked instead.

“Oh, it’s great!” Lily replied, her face lighting up with a smile. “We received a shipment of rare books today, there’re a few that I’m sure Finn would love. I will separate a few—” she stopped in the middle of her excited explanation as she looked towards the elevators, her smile going wider. “Remus!” she yelled and, without another word, pushed against the wall to walk ahead.

Frowning, Logan grumbled and followed behind a moment later. Had she been waiting for someone? Perhaps this meant that he could go back inside and get out of the cold. Halfway there, he looked to see who Lily had called for, noticing two people waiting but focusing mainly on one of them as his eyes fell on a long set of legs. Damn, this guy is huge, he thought as his gaze wandered slowly up the dark ripped jeans and comfy looking jumper.

The guy jumped slightly and dropped some keys he was holding. Logan didn’t get to see the face under the mop of blond hair as he bent to pick them up, but noticed how red his neck was and chuckled softly.

Cute.

Then the boy straightened up and Logan almost choked on his laugh as their gazes locked. His eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen, like staring at an open sky, contrasting with the blush on his cheeks—whether from the cold or from embarrassment, Logan wasn’t sure. He seemed slightly guarded, which made Logan cock his head wondering why. As a few more seconds passed and he didn’t break eye contact, some of the tension left the boy’s shoulders, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a shy smile as he ruffled his hair, the gesture going straight to Logan’s gut.

Shaking his head, he focused on the floor as he reached Lily’s side. The man standing next to the blond—Remus, most likely—was talking with Lily, but Logan could barely process what they were saying in the middle of the turmoil that was his head. With great effort, he tried to keep his eyes down, but his gaze kept wandering back to blue.

He was pulled out of his musings when Lily placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted her head towards the tall guy who, Logan noticed, had his eyes now trailing down Logan’s arms. “Hi, I’m Lily and this is Logan,” she said with a smile.

The blond —Logan cursed himself for not catching his name— gave him a sheepish wave and another small smile, and Logan found himself returning it as a tingling sensation spread through his body, starting from his mouth and going down to his toes.

“Salut! Are you guys joining the party?” he asked hopefully.

“Ah, sorry, but well… we don’t really have costumes,” Remus replied and the other guy turned to look at him with a scowl. It looked like he wanted to argue with his...friend? Logan had no idea what they were. Or who they were, for that matter.

But he kinda wanted to.

“Costumes are not mandatory. C’mon, I promise you’ll have fun,” Lily turned pleading eyes to Remus.

The newcomers glanced at each other, an unspoken conversation being held between them. Taking a sip from his drink, Logan stared at the floor again and, when he looked back up, the blond had his head tilted down, his bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and begging and blue, and it was so fucking adorable that Logan almost spat out his rum.

He turned to the side and coughed discreetly just as Remus gave in and Lily started happily guiding them into the apartment.

All the way there, Logan kept wanting to ask for the guy’s name as they stole glances at each other, but he didn’t want to show just how little attention he’d been paying. Or maybe where his attention had been. Once inside, they were welcomed by the much needed heat, low lights and a playlist that was without a doubt put together by Talker. Natalie, Marlene and a few other people were dancing to the beat, but Logan knew where he would find most of the gang: in the living room, exactly where they’d left them.

The thought of who would be waiting for him there felt like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face, making him falter in his step. What the fuck had he been thinking? Frowning, Logan hid his tightly closed fists inside his pockets, waiting a few steps back while Lily filled two cups with some orange beverage and handed them over to Remus and his companion.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, his sight landed on Finn playing against Thomas and Kasey, his wild auburn hair falling into his eyes, completely focused on the task at hand as he tapped buttons and whooped when he managed a combo.

Finn.

Logan made a bee-line for him, desperate to feel his boyfriend’s warmth, have him close after the jarring emotions that had assaulted him just now. He also left his cup at the table for good measure—maybe he’d been drinking too much.

Burrowing into his boyfriend’s side, he tried to leave as little space between them as possible, which made Finn chuckle and shiver slightly.

“Honey, you’re freezing,” he said as he nudged him with his head.

“Blame Evans. She forced me to stay out so she could wait for her friend.” His thoughts went back to the other person that had come with them, but he avoided the urge to look for him.

“Friend? Who was it?” Finn asked, not taking his eyes away from the screen as suddenly James’ character stood still and they started losing. “Pots, focus!”

“Someone named Remus? I have no idea.”

“Wait, no no no!” Finn screamed and punched the buttons harder, but James was not helping at all and they were both knocked out. “Oh, come on!” Everyone laughed as Finn threw the controller on the table and turned to playfully glare at Lily, who was sitting on James’ lap. “Lily, what did I tell you? Don’t distract him when he plays on my team!”

“Stop crying and pay up, O’Hara!” Kasey grinned and high-fived Thomas.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just lucky Lily was on your team as well,” Finn mumbled but threw the twenty bucks in their direction before turning to Logan with a smile. “Hey baby.”

Next thing Logan knew, there were lips pressed against his. He smiled into it, bringing a hand up to brush Finn’s hair out of his face, letting the feel of his body ground him again.

As they pulled apart, he caught the blond guy staring, their eyes meeting only for a second before the boy looked away. His jaw was set in a hard line, so different from the expressions he’d shown Logan out there, and suddenly he was flooded with guilt at the pull that kept tugging in two different directions.

He felt completely thrown off. His feelings for Finn were as strong as ever, but he was still very intrigued by this other person. There was something that made him want to talk with him more, ask about his life, check if those long arms could envelop him whole as it seemed. To just go over there and introduce him to Finn.

What kind of shitty person was he?

“Everyone,” Lily said then, grabbing everyone’s attention, “these are Remus and Leo. Remus is Sirius’ new neighbour, so be nice to them!” She pierced them with her best and-if-you-don’t glare that all of them knew well, making some of the guys gulp.

Leo, Logan thought. It fit him, somehow.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Remus said.

“Hello,” Leo smiled brightly at whoever was sitting to their right and Logan felt Finn freeze for a second as the corner of his mouth lifted in a silly smile.

Well, at least he knew Finn found Leo attractive as well.

His boyfriend turned to him, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve run into that Remus guy in the hall before, but who is that?”

“His friend?” Logan said, trying not to sound too interested. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like they live together.”

“Yeah, no, I mean… I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Logan frowned. “I don’t think I saw him in the building before. I would remember someone that tall.”

“Oh baby, are you grumpy cause you hurt your neck when you looked at his face?” Finn teased as he petted Logan’s hair.

“Shut up, I’m not that much shorter than you.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, turning his face away from Finn.

The stupid ass laughed and kissed his temple, which admittedly always managed to make Logan melt and lean into him, but he still made a ‘hmph’ sound, pulling another laugh out of Finn.

While both of them were distracted, the rest of the guys started setting everything up to play a new game which Remus seemed interested in. And then, out of nowhere, Sirius was asking Remus to play with him.

Finn and Logan looked at each other, wondering what the hell Sirius was up to. It was rare for him to want to play with some random guy, especially when most of the people in the room already had a hard time beating him. They even had a bet going about who would be the first to get five wins over Pads and so far, no one had managed it. Remus had absolutely no chance against someone that did this for a living.

But as it turned out, it was a very heated competition that had everyone watching closely. Logan wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen Sirius like that. He could tell he was focused, yes, but he was also excited, even if he was hiding it on the outside. In the end, Remus kicked Sirius’ ass.

“Yes!” both Remus and Leo yelled and then hugged, laughing. Leo put a hand on the back of Remus’ head and bumped their heads together. The gesture showed just how close they were, how comfortable they felt with each other, but what really had Logan’s attention was that wide, unbelievably happy smile that showed off his—

“Finn...dimples,” he whispered, though probably not as quietly as he should have, given the way Kasey snorted.

That in itself wasn’t a weird thing to say. Finn and Logan were open with each other. They talked about everything and had no secrets between them, because talking with Finn was as easy as breathing, and as vital too.

Logan trusted Finn. With his whole heart.

He knew he could talk to him about other guys that he found attractive and that Finn could do the same, ‘cause they weren’t possessive or so blinded by jealousy that they couldn’t separate things. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had a talk like that either.

This was different though.

It’d been a very long while since Logan had been struck like this. Probably since the first time he’d laid eyes on Finn; he’d had no words to describe the feeling at that moment either. But there was something about those blue eyes and the way he’d held Logan’s gaze, about that shy but steady demeanour. And that smile.

Fuck, that smile.

Logan didn’t even know him, and he already knew that he’d love that grin here or in any other universe. And just how fucking weird was that?

Maybe he could ask Leo to play a game with him next, get to know him, make him feel comfortable. But he couldn’t get his attention, Leo’s gaze kept evading him, and Logan felt something like dread at the possibility that Leo might be doing it on purpose.

He didn’t get much of a chance anyway. After a bit of teasing about Padfoot, Remus stood up to defend him before trailing off in the middle of his speech, a faraway look on his face. Then he rushed out of the room, leaving a tense silence behind and Leo staring helplessly after him.

Lily was the first one to approach him, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I… I will go check on him,” he smiled sadly and nodded to the room in general. “Thank you for inviting us.” And with that, he exited without a second glance back.

Logan wasn’t sure how he should feel about this kind of departure, or at the realisation that he might not see Leo again. Maybe it was a good thing; if his emotions could get stirred just by some glances, what would it be like if he actually got to know him?

Perhaps it was better to leave things as they were.

***

Shit shit shit shit.

It was late. Leo was so, so late.

He skidded around the corner and took the next hall at a light run, trying to avoid the other students, which luckily weren’t that many. Of course, he thought bitterly, that’s probably because other people manage to get to their own classes on time.

He still wasn’t sure what had happened, he was convinced he’d set his alarm for today, but clearly he hadn’t or he wouldn’t be running. His commute was quite long as it was, which meant that if he missed the train—like today—he was inevitably late unless a miracle happened.

Maybe he should really take Remus up on his offer to move in with him. It would also mean spending more time with his best friend, since between attending classes, doing homework and the time it took to get back home, he didn’t have many opportunities to see him lately. But there was no way Leo could afford that flat, and he didn’t want to take advantage of Remus.

Finally, he reached the door to his classroom and, after allowing a few seconds to let his breathing go back to normal, he went in as quietly as possible. The Professor had her back turned to him, so he quickly scanned the room and sat at the nearest empty seat, at the very back.

Sighing in relief that he didn’t seem to have missed too much, he opened his bag and took out his copy of Pride and Prejudice and the rest of his stuff. He was in such a hurry to catch up with the class that he knocked his pencil off the table, sending it rolling on the floor. Cringing at the sound it made, Leo bent to pick it up, only to find that another hand was already there.

He leaned back, blinking at the hand offering his pencil back, then followed the lines of the arm under the green, long-sleeved shirt, up to a familiar face and there Leo had to do a double-take.

Straightening up, he raised his eyebrows, making Finn laugh, his smile lifting to the side as he waved the pencil between them.

“Um, thanks,” Leo whispered, taking it and turning back to his notes with a frown.

Had he and Finn always shared a class together?

Since this was a course he was only taking for credits, Leo didn’t know many faces here and was usually so enthralled by the lecture that he didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings.

Finn hadn’t shown any signs that he’d recognised him at the Halloween party a week ago either. Though, if he was being honest, Leo had especially tried to avoid looking at them after he’d seen him hugging and kissing Logan.

Ugh, that memory… it’d been on his mind more than he cared to admit.

Leo didn’t want to think about how stupid he’d felt that night. He’d been shocked the first time he saw Logan, how his costume showed off his shoulders and thighs, the way he carried himself, the slight pout of his lips as he made his way towards them.

He didn’t want to think about how Logan’s eyes had started travelling up his body, making him panic and act like a fool. Or how despite that, Logan had also seemed a bit shy and fucking adorable and damn it, Leo had thought he was interested in him. But then they’d gone into the flat and Logan all but ran to Finn’s side, and Leo was left feeling like the biggest idiot in the whole damn world.

He hadn’t stayed for long after that. Worried as he was about Remus, he’d followed him shortly after he’d left and hadn’t talked with anyone else at the party. He’d thought that’d be the end of it. It was weird now to sit next to Finn when he’d been checking his boyfriend out just a few days ago.

The sound of a pencil tapping against wood brought Leo back from his musings. He peeked to the side and caught Finn with his chin perched in one hand, the other playing with the thin stick at a high speed. Leo followed the movement, back and forth, back and forth, and then up as Finn raised his hand and brought the pencil to his mouth, the bottom end tugging his pink lip down and then letting go.

The rest of the room quieted down as Leo stared. There was something about the way Finn held the pencil in his long fingers, how the sun coming in from the window seemed to hug him, the specs of dust dancing in the air by his head. How his eyes looked brighter and the strands in his hair lit up like fire.

Finn looked like warmth.

Something like a chill ran down Leo’s back and he quickly averted his eyes.

Though he couldn’t keep them away for long. Apparently, Finn was one of those people that couldn’t sit still and, now that Leo’d noticed, he couldn’t ignore every little movement coming from him, his bouncing leg, how he shifted in his seat and that damn tapping again.

He tried to pay attention to class, he really did, but he was so aware of the boy sitting just a few inches away, that his eyes kept going back to him and all those little movements.

Not able to take it any longer, Leo leaned in and placed a hand on top of Finn’s, feeling him going still under his touch. “Stop it,” he whispered, their eyes locked. The other boy didn’t say anything, just glanced between Leo’s eyes and their joined hands.

Blushing, Leo pulled away and tried to focus on the front of the room, the heat from Finn’s hand still tingling at the tip of his fingers.

Stop this right now, Leo scolded himself. He has a boyfriend.

A boyfriend that he’d also felt attracted to. What the hell was wrong with him?

Determined to keep his mind out of troublesome boys, he managed to listen and take notes for about ten minutes. But then he felt eyes on him. He pretended not to notice as Finn kept stealing glances, no doubt trying to be inconspicuous about it, but, apparently, Finn was as subtle as a flying brick.

The thought tugged a smile out of Leo, who quickly schooled his expression back to one of polite interest. You just grabbed his hand out of nowhere, of course he’s staring, he sighed.

At the end of the class, the teacher wrote a list of things on the board and turned to face them. “This assignment will be the first big one you’ll have, and it will determine 10% of your score, so don’t slack off! Pair up before you go and remember, your deadline is in two weeks.”

There were a few groans at the prospect of having to do something in pairs, but everyone started gathering their things anyway and talking with each other, already forming their teams.

A nudge on his shoulder made Leo look to his left and then he had to fight the urge to jump back. Finn was leaning towards him, that crooked smile on his face again and, this close, Leo could see the freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, a light blush colouring his face when he realised Finn had said something but he hadn’t listened.

Finn’s head tilted a bit to the side, the other corner of his mouth going up too. “I said, do you want to pair up with me?”

“Oh,” was all Leo could reply. He imagined working together for hours, maybe alone in a secluded part of the library… How would he ever concentrate on their work if he couldn’t even pay attention in class when they were sitting next to each other? On the other hand, Finn seemed like a nice guy and surely Leo had enough self control to keep a cool head. Just because he was slightly attracted to him it didn’t mean that things would escalate further, especially not when he knew nothing could ever happen.

“I mean, if you already have someone—” Finn started when Leo didn’t reply for a while.

“No, no, sorry. Yeah, that would be nice,” he smiled.

“Sweet. Are you free right now? My next class is in the afternoon, so we could go back to my place and get started, if you want.”

“That…” Leo hesitated, but then hardened his resolve. He could be friends with Finn, right? It would be nice to make new acquaintances at school and there was always the chance that he might see him and Logan again at Remus’ building. He could forget about one or two silly crushes, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to do it.

“That sounds good.”

#fanfic #writing #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #polyamory #wolfstar

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maybebanks · 3 years

Text

Hurting - part 4

link to part 1

link to part 2

link to part 3

jj maybank x reader

Previously: JJ and Y/n’s relationship is tested after the mental and physical difficulties of Y/n’s secret. She’s been an expert at hiding them, but now, he knows, and she has to face all her demons, and letting JJ think bruises are hickies is what she decided to do, to avoid the truth.

You didn’t need to get a job, because you were a ‘kook’ now. So what were you going to do with your summer? It had to be out of the house. And it couldn’t be with your best friends, the pogues.

You brushed the setting powder over your neck and jawline. Taking a deep breath before heading downstairs for breakfast.

You couldn’t face your mom, you were just going to grab some food and leave.

“Honey,” you heard a deep voice say.

You jumped and turned around, “um, yes sir,” you frowned, looking down at the ground.

“You’re mother took an early flight and I’m having a meeting here, so you need to stay in your room today,” your step father stated.

“W-wait, mom’s gone?” Your voice was shakey. You didn’t even get to explain the whole JJ situation.

“Yes.” He said impatiently, “look, doll, I don’t have time for you right now! My associate will be here any minute and if he sees you, we will have a problem,”

You didn’t understand, but you listened.

“Can-can I just get my bag? It’s in the front..um room,” you asked, meekly.

“Damnit you idiot!” He shouts, his fists clenching. You squinted your eyes on instinct, knowing he wants to punch you, knowing you were seconds away from pain.

The doorbell rang.

“Fuck. Get the hell out of my face,” he shoved you aggressively, then left your sight to get the door.

You stumbled, landing on the stairs, on your side. Cursing on impact.

You quickly got up, grabbed your bathing suit and ran out the door. Deciding to escape to the beach.

You put on your navy blue string bikini and quickly dove into the waves. It was weird because the last time you were here, you were with JJ.

He’s always been so sweet to you and you never knew why. Your first day on the island, when no one would talk to you, he came up to you. And being the established, well-liked person that he is, others followed.

You were very shy at first, and JJ didn’t know the real you until about a month in. But he didn’t give up, he was perfect.

You came up for air again. The salt not stinging your eyes.

Friendship. You’ve never had anything close to it until you met JJ.

But it’s too late. He’s gonna stop trying after what you’ve done, after what you’ve let him think you’ve done.

“You cheat on me?”

“W-why?”

“Answer me.”

“JJ...I think you should go,”

“Y/n.”

In your head it was the right decision. But in your heart? You’d die without him.

“Hey! Catch any good waves?!” Someone shouted from the shore.

You turned around from wading on your surf board. Waving to the boy at the shore.

A head of shaggy, long-ish brown haired boy seemed cheery. He threw off his button up and jumped into the waves.

You sighed, you were going to have to talk to this stranger. You almost didn’t have the energy.

“Why haven’t you been...around?” John B asks. You were surprisingly comfortable around him. He was your friend, you just didn’t notice at first.

“Just some...family stuff going on,” you shrugged.

“Ohh right. JJ told us!” He remembered.

“He-he what?” You stutter, afraid of what he might know.

“Yeah, he said your mom was coming home and she hasn’t in a while. That’s really all he said,” John B shrugged, flipping his hair after.

You felt like crying. Your mom wasn’t coming home, she was visiting for less than 12 hours.

“Hey...what happened to your leg?” He asked, swimming closer to you.

“Nothing, haha don’t uh..worry about me. How are..how are you?” You changed the subject.

“Well...oh shit! Did I tell you! I fucked uppp bro! I kissed Kie-“

“You did?!”

“Yeah! And she totally rejected me,” John B admitted.

“Did she like swerve? Or like push you?” You asked, curious about a normal thing for once.

“Nah, we kissed and then she pulled away, and said the no pogue on pogue macking rule. Fuckin JJ found a loophole with that,” he joked.

“A loophole?” You questioned.

“Yeah. Because you’re technically a kook,” John B shrugged.

“I guess,” you sighed.

“Hey, wanna get out of here? The waves are shit,” John B asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed, finally feeling calm for the first time in a while. Afterall it was a good distraction from JJ and everything else.

You and John B swam to shore and you threw a hoodie over your head.

“How good does the Wreck sound right now?” John B chuckled.

“So good,” you laughed, imagining shoving fries in ur mouth right now at the best restaurant in the Outer banks.

When you arrived at the restaurant, John B held the door open for you. He wanted to see you smile. You did, a soft curl of the lips, but it faded suddenly.

Something was wrong.

John Bs chest collided with your back, he chuckled. Because you stopped walking and blocked his path foreward.

“What’s up Y/n/n?” John B asked.

“Shut up-“ you said abruptly, John Bs eyes widened.

“Um..sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, just...don’t say my name like that,” you mumbled.

“Why? It’s your nickname right? Are you not cool with me calling you that?” John B questioned.

“No, no. I didn’t mean..just..nevermind,” you sighed. You just didn’t like it when people said your name loud in public places, you didn’t want to be recognized by certain people.

“Okayy? Anyway, let’s do that table in the back,” John B suggested.

“Okay,” you answered, keeping your head down.

He walked you to the table, and to your surprise, Kie arrived to take your orders.

“Hey guys! Is this a date? Or...” she joked. Laughing.

“Very funny Kie. Are you trying to make me lose my appetite? Poor business tactic of you ask me-“

“Hey! You asshole,” you mutter. Dipping your fingers in your water glass and spraying it at him.

John B tried to duck, but then bumped his head on the table.

You and Kie laughed loudly as he groaned in pain.

She could barely stop laughing, “can...ah I take your orders?”

“Yeah...um I’ll get um...John B what are you getting?”

“A cheese burger with no Mayo,” he told Kie.

“Idiot,” she muttered as she wrote it down.

“You want the usual? Fries and-“

“Ooh yes I’ll just have fries and cheese please,” you smiled.

“Yup, you got it. Ok I’ll be back,” she winked before leaving.

“By the way,” John B began, “I just want you to know I’d never make a move on you as long as your with JJ. I mean-Kie was joking in all-“

“John B, don��t worry about it ok?” You interrupted.

“Yeah but...I also wanted to ask you, what’s going on between you and JJ. Eveytime I mention him you get defensive,”

“What are you talking about? No I don’t,” you responded.

“Uh huh,” he said sarcastically.

“Look, the truth is, I just don’t care anymore,” you told him. You knew in your heart it wasn’t true, but it had to be. You couldn’t take back the fact that JJ thought you cheated. So you had to go with it.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” John B said.

“Whatever,” you sighed.

“Oh shit,” John B said, staring at the door.

“W-what? Is he here? Did you invite him? I swear to God,” you said in a hushed tone. You didn’t want to turn around yourself, in case you had to look him in the eye.

“No, chill. It’s..isn’t that your step dad though?” John B asked.

Your moth dropped slightly, “John B don’t say shit like that, your-“ you were about to tell him he was scaring you, but you shouldn’t admit that.

“Look behind you,”

“No I don’t want to,”

“Just look,”

You sighed, and slowly turned.

“Oh-“ you started to respond, but you practically felt your heart stop. Instantly, your breathing picked up.

“What’s going on between you and JJ? Why wouldn’t you want him here?” John B said, trying to pull your attention back to him.

You shook your head, instead of answering. You could hardly form words. Maybe it’s the fact that if your step father sees you here, there’s going to be some contact.

“Whoa relax!” John B said, placing his hand on yours.

Immediately, you pulled your hand away.

He furrowed his brows, confused and offended.

“Sorry.” you muttered.

“You wanna...leave.. I mean ... you wanna get out of here?” You suggested, afraid he would say no.

“What? Why? We didn’t even get our food!” John B exclaimed.

“I..I know. I just..don’t feel like eating anymore.”

“That’s so weird, Y/n. C’mon we can’t leave. Just suck it up for a sec,” John B said shortly. Tapping your shoulder.

“Okay,” you responded. You thought back to JJ. He never made you do stuff you don’t want to. He was just so caring to you. Not that John B wasn’t, just that JJ knew you so well.

A few minutes later, your couldn’t shake the thought that the man you feared the most was behind you. You didn’t have eyes. You didn’t have JJ. You didn’t have anything.

“John B, I don’t feel well I think I’m gonna head out,” you told him, getting up slowly.

“You sure?” He said, analyzing your.

“I um...” for some reason, blurred vision erupted, and you started feeling like you were going to faint.

You stood up slowly. But things were getting worse, and your stance was unsteady.

You gripped the edge of the table for support.

“Y/n...what’s up with you?” John B asked. Sounding annoyed.

For some reason a tear escaped from your eye, you were sorry you were annoying him. So you muttered a quick, “I’m sorry,”

John B stood up, he was now right infront of you. And then, you collapsed. John Bs arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him as you fell.

He was shocked by this. Struggling to hold you up.

No one seemed to pay much attention, but anyone in their right mind would know that they should probobly take you to the hospital. But John B, as did many of the pogues, didn’t always trust authority.

So he took you back to the Chateau, where Sarah, who took a class in Lifeguarding was considerably the doctor instead.

“What happened?!!” Sarah exclaimed as she saw John B carry you out of the van.

“She just passed out. Hey can you help me carry her?” John B grunted.

“Uh..I’ll get JJ,” she said.

“Oh fuck. Wait! I don’t know if that’s such a good idea-“ John B began but Sarah had already called him from working on the boat.

He ran over, his eyes filled with worry. He quickly took you from John B. Carrying you without a problem bridal style.

Inside, he let you down on the couch.

You were slowly coming back to consciousness.

“Put this on her forehead,” Sarah said passing a towel to JJ.

“Hey...hey Y/n. Come back to me okay? Fuck baby. Don’t do this to me alright, wake up,” JJ muttered into your ear.

Moments later, your eyes started to flutter.

To witch JJ sighed in relief, taking your hand and holding it tight in his own.

“Let’s call her parents,” Sarah suggested, grabbing Y/n’s phone.

“Sarah no. Alright? Give me her phone,” JJ demanded.

“No! If I was her my parents would want to know! It’s not normal to just faint-“

“Sarah, give me the fucking phone,” JJ persisted.

John B frowned, “hey watch it, JJ. Don’t talk to her like that bro,”

Sarah frowned, and out of spite began typing on her phone.

JJs temper only grew, he only wanted to protect you.

He grabbed Sarah’s wrists and pulled the phone from her hand.

“Hey!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Dude!” John B interjected.

JJ returned the phone to his pocket.

“Bro, I’m gonna kill you-“ John B said.

“Wait,” you said meekly, “JJ was right, okay? It would only make it worse. Just trust me,”

“But why?” Sarah said concerned.

You shook your head, signaling you couldn’t answer the question.

Sarah sighed and wished you to feel better before leaving.

John B then stepped to JJ, “you’re lucky your girlfriend is so sweet. I would’ve kicked your ass,” John B threatened.

JJ didn’t want to cause a drive between any more of the people he cared about. So he just accepted.

JJ then sat by you, despite what had happened before.

“You really scared me, Y/n.”

“Wasn’t..my intention,” you stifled out, trying to get up.

“Whoa...whoa, can you stay to get some rest? Just stay here for me,” he insisted with a hand on your chest.

“JJ...” you sighed.

“I know it’s not true. I know what you’re doing.”

“Stop. Please.” You pleaded.

“You didn’t cheat on me. Those are bruises aren’t they. They’re not hickies. They’re from him trying to choke you.” JJ explained.

“JJ get away from me. We broke up. I don’t....I don’t-“

“You don’t what? You don’t love me?! Huh! Say it Y/n. Look me in the eyes, and I leave for good,”

“I don’t! I don’t deserve you! You can’t me with me. I’m used, JJ. You deserve a girl that isn’t so-“

“Broken? Y/n, I’m just as fucked up as you. You know my dad hits me right? He beats me. And it’s wrong. And I hate him. But I can’t hate you. Ever. Not for what that sick man has done,”

At this point, you were balling. Wiping tears as soon as they fell.

“JJ...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying. I thought you would leave.”

“It doesn’t work like that, when I love you more than anything in my entire life,”

“I don’t understand,” you stuttered.

“Understand what?”

“Even after you know what he does. How could you look at me, and still love me?”

“That doesn’t change all I’ve known as soon as I met you. And if you need me to prove it to you, I will.”

thx for reading ❤️

@mavelfanatic @my-therapist-hates-me @rudypankowswife @harrypottersgirl @themaddies-obx taglist

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