#the back of it grimacing in pain wrapped up in a blanket | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lady-lostmind · 2 months

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I had the absolute pleasure of getting to write a fic based on this amazing art by @ahhrenata for @strangerthingsreversebigbang! Link to art post Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this! Read the fic on ao3 or under the cut!

Eddie rolls over with a groan. He feels awful. He can’t breath out of his nose, there’s so much pressure in his head he feels like it might explode and his throat feels like he swallowed a cup of razors. He lets out a truly pathetic whimper, the sound catching in his throat as it turns into a cough. He stretches his arm out, feeling around for Steve and is met with cold, empty sheets. He whines again and finally pries his eyes open.

“Stevie?”

He hears Steve pad down the hall and then he’s opening the door to their room, a soft smile on his face as he peers down at Eddie on the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Eddie sniffles loudly. “I don’t feel good.”

Steve sighs and leans against the door frame. “I told you not to go out in the cold with Dustin the other night. You didn’t even have a coat.”

Eddie groans again and flops over, reaching his hand out to Steve. “Come cuddle with me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “You’re whiny when you’re sick.”

But he pushes off the doorframe and crawls onto the bed, dropping down next to Eddie and letting him wrap his limbs around his body and press his face against Steve’s chest.

Eddie snuggles in and hums, ready to fall back asleep for forever, or until he can actually breathe again. Whichever comes first.

Steve’s hand lands on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way. “Baby, you’re hot.”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle, his voice low and raspy from the pain in his throat. “I’m flattered, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m really up for anything sexy right now, Stevie.”

Steve swats his arm. “I wasn’t coming onto you, asshole. You have a fever.”

Steve pulls away, like he’s going to get back up and Eddie holds on tighter to him, another whine slipping out of his lips.

Steve rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get you some stuff.”

Eddie’s hand flops onto the bed as Steve gets up and disappears from the room. Eddie rolls back over, pulling the blankets up and burrowing under them to fall back asleep.

–

Eddie wakes up to Steve nudging him gently, holding out a little cup of red liquid. Eddie’s face scrunches up in disgust and he shakes his head with a groan, trying to hide under the covers again. “I hate that shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the blanket back. “Eds, you gotta take this. It’ll bring your fever down. Come on.”

Eddie groans again, but pulls himself up to sit and takes the little shot of medicine with a grimace.

Steve chuckles beside him. “I’ve seen you drink jager straight from the bottle and you’re making that face over cherry cough medicine?”

Eddie shoots him a cocky grin. “Jager is good though. That shit tastes like pennies.”

Steve shakes his head, pulling the covers back up around Eddie’s chin. “There’s tissues and water next to you on the table. You want me to drag the TV in here?”

Eddie shakes his head, already settling back into the pillows and drifting off. He reaches out a hand to tug at Steve’s wrist.

Steve sighs, climbing under the blankets with him and pulling him close. “You’re gonna get me sick.”

Eddie grins and plants a wet kiss to the back of Steve’s hand before he falls asleep again.

–

The next time Eddie resurfaces it’s to Steve’s fingers trailing softly through his hair. He sniffs, whining when it makes the pressure in his head spike.

“Made you some soup, baby. You hungry?”

Eddie nods and forces himself to sit up, smiling at Steve when he hands him a bowl of chicken noodle. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Steve leans over and presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “You sure you don’t want the TV in here? We could watch some movies.”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ll probably just fall asleep five minutes in. But you can bring it in if you’re bored.”

Steve shakes his head and grabs a book off his side table, wiggling it in the air. “I’m good.”

Eddie’s eyes lock on the book and his jaw drops open. “Are you finally reading The Lord of the Rings?”

Steve flashes him a big grin and nods. “They’re confusing though. How do you keep track of all these crazy names?”

Eddie chuckles. “You get used to it after a while.” He sets his empty bowl aside and lays back down, peering up at Steve with big, pleading eyes. “Will you read to me?”

Steve’s face scrunches up. “I’m not very good.”

Eddie scoots in closer, plopping his head onto Steve’s lap. “I just want to hear your voice.”

Steve’s hand finds its way back into Eddie’s curls again. “Do you want me to start over?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve read them like ten times. You can start where you left off.”

Steve nods and opens the book, clearing his throat. “‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.”

Eddie lets the familiar words wash over him. Steve’s voice making him feel safe and warm, the fingers in his hair soothing him to sleep.

–

Eddie wakes up again, his throat burning and raw. He’s alone in the bed again and it’s dark. The blankets tucked in tight around him, making him over heated, his hair plastered to his forehead. He sits up, reaching for a tissue as a harsh cough racks his body. He groans, wincing as he wipes his mouth.

Eddie hates being sick. And yeah. He knows nobody likes being sick. Obviously. But he can’t stand it. It makes him feel trapped in his own body. Trapped in his bed. He doesn’t like to sit still for so long. To feel like he can’t do anything.

The door creaks open, a sliver of light peeking through before it disappears again, Steve’s body blocking it out as he leans in, a sad little smile on his face. “You okay, baby? Heard you coughing.”

Eddie lets out a pathetic whine, falling against the pillows again, somehow still exhausted even though he slept through most of the day already. “No.”

Steve pushes the door open the rest of the way, comes up to him and puts his hand on his forehead before making a little tsk noise, and brushing his hair out of his face. “I’m going to get you another dose of medicine.”

Eddie groans, grabbing Steve’s wrist and shaking his head.

Steve chuckles, bending down to press a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “What if I bring you a popsicle to chase it with? Make your throat feel a little better.”

Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not sure your popsicle is going to help my throat much but–”

Steve rolls his eyes with a smile, tugging his arm back and shaking his head. “Would you stop? You’re awful.” He heads back to the door, turning back with his hands on his hips. “Orange or cherry?”

Eddie whines. “No grape?”

Steve chuckles. “You and Dustin ate all the grape, baby.”

Eddie huffs out a breath. “Orange then.”

Eddie grins as Steve leaves the room. He really hates being sick. But he doesn’t mind this whole Steve-taking-care-of-him thing. That part’s pretty nice. He can’t really remember the last time someone did this for him. Thinks it must have been his mom, when he was still little. Remembers curling up with her on the couch, her humming softly as he fell asleep.

He doesn’t have a lot of good memories with her. Mostly screaming matches with his dad, and her disappearing for weeks at a time. But there were a few times when things were good. When he felt loved. When he really felt like he understood what it was like to be wanted. And then he’d gone to live with Wayne. And he did his best. And Eddie knows he loves him. Knows he would do anything for him. But he’s a grumpy old man who never thought he’d be raising a kid. His version of taking care of Eddie when he was sick was buying some soup and leaving it on the counter for Eddie to make while he was at work. And that was fine. Eddie is grateful for everything Wayne has done for him. It just wasn’t exactly a lovey household. Not that it wasn’t full of love. They just…didn’t really show it. But he feels the love in everything Steve does. Sees it in the way Steve’s eyes light up when they look at him. In the way his hands always linger. No matter where they touch. Like he never wants to be more than a breath away from him. Like he wants nothing more than to bring him a stupid orange popsicle when his throat hurts to make him feel better.

Eddie smirks as Steve comes back into the room, cough medicine in one hand, popsicle in the other.

–

Eddie feels a little better when he wakes up the next morning. Late morning. The room bright with the sun peeking in through the blinds. He’s still sick. Still can’t really breathe normally. His throat is still protesting every time he tries to swallow. But he feels a little less dead. And he didn’t wake up drenched in sweat this time so, hopefully that means his fever is gone. Thanks to Steve’s stupid medicine. Not that he’d ever admit that to him.

Steve comes in with a plate piled high with toast, and a mug of tea that Eddie is sure has way too much honey in it, for his throat.

Eddie takes the offered breakfast with a sleepy smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “You’re welcome, baby. You feeling better?”

Eddie shrugs, stuffing half a piece of toast in his mouth. Steve climbs onto the bed with him, grabbing Eddie’s book from the table on his side of the bed, settling back against the pillows.

Eddie perks up, shifting so he can watch the way Steve’s mouth wraps around the words Eddie knows by heart. They’re some of his favorite configurations of words in the world, and Steve somehow makes him love them even more. He loves the slight hesitancy he has as he stumbles over the names, the pauses he adds in strange spots when he’s clearly trying to piece parts of the story together. He can tell he’s really trying to get it. Trying to understand why Eddie loves this so much. Trying to understand Eddie more. Which he’s pretty sure no one else has done before.

Everyone else just takes him at face value. The loud, over the top, obnoxious behavior, his weird obsessions and interests. People either look at him and want nothing to do with him, or they look at him in awe, like he’s something shiny, something to distract them from whatever bullshit is going on in their own lives. But he’s never had someone look at him like he’s something to be treasured. To dive into and see all the sides of. Until Steve.

Steve, who he knows hates half of the stuff Eddie is into but still asks questions. Who knows Eddie’s favorite songs and books and movies. Who knows he prefers grape popsicles. Who looks at him in that awestruck way even when he’s quiet. When he’s just existing in their space, not putting on a front or a show. Steve still sees him, even then.

Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to Steve’s, cutting him off mid sentence.

Steve huffs out a laugh against Eddie’s lips before pushing him back. “Is my reading that bad?”

Eddie shakes his head and takes another bite of toast, getting crumbs all over the bed as he scooches closer to Steve who lifts his arm to tuck Eddie into his side.

–

By day four Eddie is still feeling pretty bad, and worn out, but also bored. He still doesn’t have the energy to leave their bed much but he also can’t stand just laying around anymore.

He shuffles his way out to the living room, ignoring Steve’s squawk of protest as he spots him from where he’s doing dishes in the kitchen. Eddie makes it halfway to the coffee table before Steve is there, a hand towel slung over his shoulder as he tries to push Eddie back down the hall.

“What are you doing? Go back to bed.”

Eddie groans and gestures to his stack of notebooks on the table. “I’m bored, Steve. I want to work on my campaign.”

Steve nudges him back again, a crease forming between his brows. “I’ll bring them to you. Go lay down.”

Eddie lets out an annoyed whine but turns and heads back down the hall, collapsing on the bed where he immediately lets out a sigh of relief, the pressure that was building in his head from being vertical backs off as soon as he hits the pillows. Because Steve was right, of course. He should have just asked him to grab his stuff for him.

Steve comes in a few minutes later with all of Eddie’s notebooks and campaign books piled high in his arms. He dumps them on the bed and disappears again, coming back with a stack of Eddie’s tapes and his walkman, adding them to the mess on the bed and perching on the edge.

Eddie grins at him. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Steve shrugs, a little blush flashing on his cheeks. He reaches out and squeezes Eddie’s knee. “Just know you like to listen to music while you work. I’ll bring you some dinner in a little bit, okay?”

Eddie watches as he gets up to go, smirk firmly in place as he pulls his notebooks closer to him and flips the top one open, trying to jump back into the story he was forming.

–

Eddie stares down at his notebook, sniffing loudly and tossing a crumpled up tissue onto the floor next to the bed. He taps his pen on the page, trying to will the scene to write itself. A cough works its way up the back of his throat and sticks there, making him hack over and over until he’s pulling in a wheezing breath and falling back against the pillows.

“Fuck me.” He groans out, shoving his notebook away with a huff. He hates being sick. Can’t even manage to focus on his campaign for more than fifteen minutes before he’s coughing and exhausted and–

Steve pushes the door open with his hip, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands and a bright smile that reaches his eyes on his face.

Eddie sighs, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard and lets Steve fuss over pillow placements as he hands over the soup. He stares up at Steve, his chest full of adoration for this wonderful man who works himself into a tizzy because Eddie didn’t make sure he was properly supported by his pillows. Because how is his gorgeous man even real? How did Eddie get so lucky?

Eddie sets his soup on the side table as Steve leans over him, trying to manhandle Eddie into a position he deems acceptable and Eddie grabs his face, pulling him into a soft kiss, smiling against Steve’s mouth when he feels him melt a little into the touch.

Steve pulls back with a chuckle, pushing against Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s like you’re trying to get me sick, Eds.” Eddie lets out a laugh and sniffs, trying not to be an oozing, gross mess with Steve so up close and personal. “Sorry. I just can’t help myself when you’re being so sweet.”

Steve’s face blooms red and he ducks his head with a little shake before standing and grabbing Eddie’s soup off the table again, pushing it back into Eddie’s hands. “Eat your soup, baby.”

Eddie gives him a little two finger salute and nods, dimple popping on his check. “Yes, sir.”

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie takes a big spoonful, making an obnoxiously loud slurp just to see the way Steve’s face scrunches in disgust.

–

Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing and wheezing, trying to catch his breath and be quiet so he doesn’t wake up–

Steve’s hand lands on his back, rubbing gently.

Eddie groans, looking guiltily over at Steve. “Sorry I woke–” His voice catches on another cough, sending him into another fit.

Steve sits up, hand still on Eddie’s back, the other coming up to sweep the hair away from his face. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”

Eddie nods, sucking in a deep breath and trying to ignore the tickle in the back of his throat threatening another cough. Steve gets up and heads out of the room, coming back with a glass of water that he hands to Eddie before sliding back into bed, his hand finding its way back to its spot on Eddie’s back. Eddie takes a couple of small sips before setting the glass aside and laying back down, Steve scooches in close, pressing their foreheads together, one hand still on Eddie’s back, the other working its way to tangle in his hair.

Eddie hums reaching up to cup Steve’s face, feeling content as his eyes slip closed.

–

The next morning Eddie wakes up feeling much better. He’s still a little stuffy, but his throat doesn’t hurt anymore and his head feels a little clearer. Like the sick haze is starting to dissipate. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan and slips up to jump in the shower.

The hot water does wonders for him and by the time he steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his drenched hair with a towel, he feels almost human again.

He glances over at Steve, still fast asleep in the bed. Eddie’s brow scrunches together and he looks at the clock. 11:15am.

Huh. Steve never sleeps in this late. He gets up obnoxiously early to work out before he gets moving for the day. Eddie climbs back into the bed and presses soft kisses along Steve’s jaw, smiling when his sleepy eyes peek open at him.

“You slept in.” Eddie traces his fingers along Steve’s arm.

Steve lets out a little whimper, pressing his face into the pillows.

Eddie pushes some hair out of Steve’s face, his fingers grazing his forehead which is blazing.

Eddie curses under his breath, planting his hand more firmly on Steve’s skin. “Oh no, sweetheart.”

Steve peers up at him with big, sad puppy eyes, his voice strained and nasally. “I’m sick, Eds.”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #strbb #steddie fluff #ahhrenata #lady lostmind

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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

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The Devil at Your Window |3: A Show of Trust|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Nothing like an injured, soaking wet black suit Matt... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom

The voices on the television show you'd been watching gradually began to blur together into a soft hum as your lazy Saturday night wore on late into the evening. Heavy rain pelted against your apartment windows, the night surprisingly just warm enough for it instead of the snow the city had been getting in abundance. You hoped most of the snow would be melted by tomorrow with how much it had been raining today, already tired of winter and ready for spring despite it still only being January.

The sound of heavy droplets rhythmically battering against the glass windows of your apartment only began to further lull you into a relaxed state on your couch, cozy and warm beneath your blankets. Eventually your eyelids began to feel heavy, inevitably beginning to slowly lower until they dropped closed. A few times you caught yourself beginning to doze off on your couch and your eyes flew back open, your body giving a slight jolt along the cushions. Though gradually they began to drop shut once more until you fell into a light sleep.

It was at the sound of loud, frantic pounding that you woke with a startle on your couch. Your eyelids flew open, your heart racing in your chest at the abrupt, harsh noise that had disturbed your peaceful night. You laid there on the cushions disoriented, wondering how long you’d fallen asleep for and what time it currently was as you squinted at your television.

Another series of rapid banging had a gasp slipping out of you, your body sitting bolt upright on the couch. Your head spun in the direction of the noise only to spot the Devil once again standing on your fire escape. Except unlike the previous time he’d stopped by a few days ago, he was bent in half with an arm wrapped across his abdomen, clutching his side. From the faint light of your television screen illuminating him out on the fire escape, you could see the painful twist of his mouth.

He’d gotten hurt tonight. There was no denying it with the way he was carrying himself like that.

Throwing the blankets off of yourself in a rush, you rose to your feet, turning off the television before darting straight to the window. Your hands moving quickly, you undid the locks before pushing it up. Droplets of freezing rain immediately pelted you in the face and you tried to blink them from your lashes.

“Why the hell are you out in this?” you asked him, shouting loud enough to be heard over the rain as you stepped to the side. “Get in here!”

The Devil didn’t utter a single cocky remark this time to your surprise. Instead, he began to climb through the opening of your window as you headed over to the nearby lightswitch, flipping it on so you both could see better. At the sound of him emitting a hiss of pain between his teeth, you spun back around just in time to watch him drop to your worn wooden floors in a sopping wet heap.

“Shit!” you cursed.

In a hurry you sprinted back over, pausing only briefly to quickly slam your window shut, blocking the rain back out of your apartment once more. Then you dropped to your knees roughly, the fabric of your sweatpants absorbing some of the water that had already begun to puddle around him. The Devil continued to lie on his side, his mouth hanging open as loud, ragged breaths left him. You cringed at the sight of him lying there, suddenly feeling panicked and helpless.

“What happened?” you asked him. “Are you okay? Do you need a hospital or a–a doctor?”

“No,” he grunted out instantly. “No hospitals.”

You grimaced, your hands darting out to help him only to hover over his body where he lay in a heap before you. Eyes flying wildly around him, you did your best to search for any sign of injury, but you couldn’t seem to spot anything besides his soaking wet clothes now clinging to him even tighter than when they were dry. You couldn’t seem to spot any bleeding, either–there at least wasn’t any blood on your floor–but with how damp his clothes were and how dark the fabric was, it was impossible to know for sure.

“Well I don’t know how much medical knowledge you think I have,” you told him with a nervous laugh, “but it only extends to things I can fix with a bandaid. And I’m guessing that’s not what’s– shit !”

The Devil rolled onto his back before you with a loud, pained groan, entirely cutting you off. Eyes wide in panic, your hands still hovered uselessly above him. His breathing was labored as he lay in the growing cold puddle of water he was making on your floor.

“What's wrong?” you asked in a rush. “How can I help?”

“Baseball bat,” he breathed out, voice hoarse.

You watched as his left hand lowered to his side, his mouth curling into a painful grimace as he gestured along the length of it. He’d gestured to the entire length of his ribcage, where each bone was unmistakable with how skin tight the wet fabric was on him. And while you weren’t a doctor, it appeared like something seemed off in one of the spaces. Had he broken a rib?

"Just–just needed somewhere safe,” he continued, breath still coming in sharp. “To try to heal. Barely–”

A hiss of pain escaped his lips, his head rolling back along your floor. You began to gnaw on your bottom lip, your heart still hammering away frantically in your chest. Your body was still in a state of panic as you sat there on your soaked knees, not sure how to help the masked man before you.

“Barely made it here,” he finished.

Still nervously gnawing your bottom lip, you shook your head, unsure of how you were supposed to help him. “Why come to me? I’m not a medical professional, Devil!”

An amused huff of laughter broke on yet another wounded noise from him next. Worry only further filled you as you glanced back down at his ribs. Something definitely didn’t seem quite right.

“I can–can heal myself,” he began, voice still strained. “Sort of, at least. I just–just need somewhere quiet to meditate.”

“ Meditate ?” you asked in shock, the word flying out of you. “You’re going to meditate ? I don’t know if you know this, Devil, but yoga is not the answer right now! You need a hospital!”

Something like a smile faintly pulled at the corners of his mouth–the first one you’d seen on him this whole time. Somehow that only worried you further. Had he gotten hit in the head with that baseball bat, too?

“No, not yoga,” he told you. “But that was–was cute.”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead, your jaw once again dropping. Hands falling back down to your sides, you sat there dumbfounded with this man once more. Who the hell was he?

“I’m sorry, are you flirting with me?” you asked him. “While you’re literally lying in pain on my apartment floor soaking wet from freezing rain? With most likely a broken rib?” You shook your head, beginning to rise back up to your feet. “Okay, I’m calling you an ambulance, you probably have a concussion and there’s–”

Something caught your wrist and you paused from your place halfway risen from the floor. Glancing down, you spotted a black gloved hand holding onto you with just enough strength to catch your attention. Slowly your eyes rose back up to where you figured his were behind the wet black mask. His head had rolled along the floor towards you, a despairing look on the lower half of his face.

“Please,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t. Just–just trust me. Please?”

For a moment you stood there in an awkward sort of crouch, your bottom lip once again caught between your teeth. You scanned him over as he lay there on his back, your eyes inevitably landing on that space where you assumed he’d broken a rib. Flinching, you focused back on his face, his hand still holding your wrist.

“Please,” he tried again. “I just need maybe twenty minutes. Then I’ll head to my place. I know someone who can help me better when I get there.”

“Then why not call them now? Or why not go there instead?” you asked him.

One corner of his lip twisted upward in something like a sheepish smile. “You were closer,” he answered softly. “And I’d rather not risk outing myself by bringing you both together.”

Eyelids falling shut, you pinched the bridge of your nose with your other hand. Gradually you felt him release your wrist as you tried to think through this situation. Everything inside of you was screaming to ignore him and to call an ambulance. If his rib was broken there was no way he was going to just walk out of here in twenty minutes feeling better.

But maybe there was something different about him. Like those other superheroes. Truthfully, you’d always wondered with every news story you’d heard about The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Could there be something special about him? Like an ability to heal himself?

Blowing out a rough breath, you lowered your hand from your face and focused back on him. “You can meditate to heal?” you asked him carefully. “You’re not–not shitting me, are you? Because if you need a hospital I’d rather you go to one and not like, die on my floor or something.”

“I’m not going to die,” he assured you. “I can heal. Not completely, but enough. It’s…a sort of skill I learned a long time ago.”

“Seems like a pretty useful fucking skill,” you muttered to yourself, catching the small smile on his lips. “Okay, well you’ve got to be freezing with those wet clothes. Do you want some blankets?”

“I am incredibly cold actually,” he admitted, that sheepish grin returning. “Fighting the urge to start shivering is becoming quite difficult. But I was actually hoping for a favor if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him curiously. “And what favor would that be?” you asked him.

“I need to be able to focus when I meditate,” he told you, grimacing as he spoke. “And let’s just say, for me, that’s hard to do with–with cold, wet clothes on my skin.”

It took you a moment to process what he was saying, your mind initially focused on trying to understand what he had meant by telling you that focusing would be hard for him to do with wet clothes on his skin, as if there was something more to it than discomfort. But then suddenly you caught what he’d meant. Breath catching in your throat, your eyes grew wide. Did he want you to take his clothes off?

“So you…” you began hesitantly, voice trailing off.

“Yeah,” he answered, an awkward chuckle falling out of him before it broke off on a gasp of pain. “But it’s not exactly easy for me to move, so I’d–I’d need some assistance getting the shirt and pants off.”

Swallowing hard, your eyes traveled down from his masked face and back towards his body. His very toned, very attractive body that you’d thought about a few times in a not so appropriate way since his last visit. And here he was, injured and asking you to take his clothes off in your apartment. Licking your lips, you tried to fight the heat that suddenly sparked low in your stomach–this wasn’t the time or place for that.

“If you’re uncomfortable with that, don’t worry about it,” he told you when you’d remained silent. “I understand. I can just–just try to work around it, it’ll just be more difficult.”

Shaking your head slowly, you told him, “No, no I can help. I just wasn’t exactly expecting you to show up injured and wanting to get naked at my place tonight.”

The smile you’d come to know him for returned to his face, the sight of it a minor relief. It eased your panic and fear a little, at least.

“Well I’m not asking you to take off the mask or the boxers,” he pointed out. “So I’m not really getting naked here tonight.”

“So the Devil wears boxers and not briefs?” you teased, hoping to hide your nerves with humor as you settled back down on the wet floor beside him again. “Guess you’ve answered a much-asked question for the masses of Hell’s Kitchen tonight.”

“Boxer briefs, if you want to be technical,” he replied, still grinning slightly. “But you’d have figured that out on your own soon enough, I imagine.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you felt the heat beginning to creep up your neck at his comment. You knew he meant it in the way that you’d find out because you’d be taking his pants off to help him get warm and ‘heal’ with his meditation somehow, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if it could’ve had another meaning.

“And does that mean you’re part of the masses wondering what I wear under this?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

Cheeks flaming, you laughed a little nervously. “Now I’m really starting to think someone got you in the head with that baseball bat, too,” you replied. Clearing your throat, you tried to switch the topic back to the situation at hand. “So how am I supposed to…manage this, exactly? I imagine moving is painful, but I have a feeling your clothes aren’t going to just come right off with you being this wet.”

A rumbling laugh came from him, the sound mixed with pained groans and gasps as his rib clearly ached and protested the movement. Brows knitting together, you shot his masked face a concerned look.

“You should probably not be laughing right now,” you informed him. “Pretty sure that’s not helping. And it sounds painful.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” he began, a wheeze of laughter still coming from him, “in my experience, the opposite has always been true.”

This time your head tilted curiously to the side as you tried to work out what he meant. For a moment you sat there, replaying what you’d just said in your head. And then it hit you and your face flamed even further.

“Oh my God!” you shrieked, fighting the urge to slap his very solid thigh beside you. “It is not the time for this!”

His laughter subsided, but the grin remained on his lips. “I’m sorry, you’re entirely right. I’m not trying to make you more uncomfortable,” he apologized. “I’ll stop and focus. Promise. You’re just cute when you get flustered like that. I truly appreciate your help though, Miss…?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Absolutely not the time for that, either,” you scolded him, doing your best to ignore how he’d once again called you ‘cute.’ “So focusing on the task at hand here, I’m guessing for this ‘meditation’ that you do, you sit up for that, right? Not just…lay in a heap on the floor?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Generally.”

“Okay,” you began slowly, your cheeks still feeling like they were burning as your eyes trailed down every visible muscle along his chest beneath his wet shirt before landing on his belt buckle. “I suppose that means removing your pants first would be the best course of action,” you mused aloud. “Probably easier to remove with you, you know, laying down as opposed to sitting.”

“Probably,” he answered, a hint of a smile in his tone.

You sat there hesitating for a few seconds, your gaze still on his belt buckle as silence filled your apartment. You could practically feel his attention on you, the hair on the back of your neck raising. It wasn’t like you’d never undressed someone before, but generally all of those situations were vastly different from this one. It wasn’t like you were taking off his pants so that you could sleep with him, yet somehow sitting here, staring at him on your floor like this–especially after the comments he’d just made–had this moment feeling oddly and unexpectedly intimate. Even with his injured side.

“So uhm,” you said, pausing to wet your lips, eyes still focused on his belt buckle, “I’ll just start there. I guess.”

“Here,” he murmured.

His gloved hands rose up from his sides, reaching down and working to unclasp his belt buckle. It was so quiet in your apartment as his hands worked that you could hear the clink of the metal as he undid it. Swallowing hard and trying to control your wildly beating heart, you watched as those gloved hands deftly undid the button of his dark pants next. The slide of his zipper downward afterwards was even audible as you sat there beside him, trying hard to think about anything other than how you wished his pants were coming off under different circumstances.

“If you could help get them off the rest of the way,” he said, his voice drawing you back to the moment, “that’d help. I can’t exactly sit up and take them off at the moment or I’d do it myself.”

Blinking hard a few times, you nodded. “Right,” you answered. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just–just…yeah.”

Something like a breath of amusement passed his lips as his hands dropped back to the floor at his sides. Your stomach began to twist nervously, realizing he was waiting for you to take his pants off now.

Leaning forward, you carefully gripped the fabric of his pants on either side of his hips. They were incredibly cold to the touch, the realization of which helped ease some of that growing heat of your own because he had to be freezing right now. Though as you began to tug the black, wet pants down his thighs, trying your hardest to be gentle as you heard him gasp out, you realized this wasn’t going to be remotely easy or fast.

To put it lightly, the Devil certainly filled out his clothes.

With a hiss of pain he arched his back along the floor, allowing you to pull his pants down just beneath his ass after much effort. You muttered an apology, trying to focus your hardest on not hurting him further as you began to peel the soaked fabric down his thighs next. It took every ounce of your willpower to not stare at the way his damp, black underwear clung to him, revealing what was hidden beneath the fabric as you pulled his dark pants downwards past a particular appendage.

As you continued to tug the wet pants down the lower half of his thighs, you became increasingly aware of the way your fingertips were dragging along the length of bare skin on his legs. The dark wisps of his hair brushed against your fingers and you grit your teeth, trying hard to remain focused on what you were doing and not how you were gradually beginning to feel.

He quite possibly has a broken rib , you reminded yourself, trying to focus on pulling each pant leg down past his muscular calves. Stop it. He is injured. This isn't sexual. This isn't sexual.

After having removed his boots, leaving his socks on which were thankfully dry, you managed to pull his pants entirely off of him a minute later. You tossed the rumpled ball off to the side of you where they landed along your wood floor with a soft, wet thump .

“Okay,” you said, attention returning to his face. “So maybe we should sit you up–even though that goes against everything inside of me if you do have a broken rib–so that I can get your shirt off?”

The Devil nodded, his gloved hands landing flat on the floor at his sides before he abruptly pushed himself upright, something like a distressed growl escaping between his clenched teeth as he moved. Your hands immediately darted forward, landing on his shoulders as you tried to steady him before you.

“Shit, I didn’t mean you had to do it like that ,” you chastised. “I could have helped you!”

“Well,” he breathed out, a grimace on his mouth, “little too late for that.”

Attention dropping down, they landed on his gloved hands. Those, too, were wet. And with how tight his shirt was, there was no doubt in your mind that you were going to have to remove those before removing his shirt.

“Okay, gloves next, then your shirt,” you told him.

He obediently held up his left hand first, holding it out towards you. With far less hesitation than when you removed his pants, you began to undo the velcro strap around his wrist. The sharp tear of the velcro rang loud in your ears before you began to gently ease the glove off of his hand. Once you'd slid it off, dropping the glove onto the floor beside your knees, your eyes admittedly lingered on his hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, your own left hand still gingerly holding his wrist.

He had big hands. You also spotted a few cuts where his knuckles had clearly torn from fighting. You resisted the urge to run your fingers over the dried bloody marks, though the sight of them didn't stop you from wondering what his hands would feel like gliding up beneath your own shirt, scratching you lightly with the callouses you noticed on his palms and fingertips. Your eyelids briefly fluttered shut at what your imagination conjured up, imagining them on your skin far warmer than they currently were as his palms ran up your sides and delicately over your ribcage.

But then you abruptly reminded yourself of where you were and what was going on. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you released his wrist, though you noticed the very faint tilt of his head just before you did. Feeling embarrassed, you undid his other glove faster than the previous one before removing it. Gathering both gloves in your hands, you tossed them over to the side of you where they landed just beside his discarded pants.

Focusing back on him, you became aware that all that was left to do was to peel off his shirt now. Which would only end up revealing exactly all of that muscle you already knew was waiting beneath that thin black material. Your mouth felt like it was going dry at just the thought of seeing him even further undressed.

This isn’t sexual , you tried to remind yourself.

Sucking in a breath, your hands dropped down to the hem of his soaking wet shirt. Carefully you began to lift it up, still holding your breath as defined abdominal muscle after defined abdominal muscle revealed itself to you. You could feel the way your hands had begun to shake before you’d even managed to cautiously slip the wet material over his head, his arms raising up in an attempt to help you as he let out a faint grunt.

Sitting back on your damp knees, you discarded his shirt off to the side by the pile of his other soaked clothes on your floor. Though this time when you returned your attention back to the Devil before you, he was wearing only his damp mask, black boxer briefs, and some dry, black socks. Releasing the breath you’d been holding, you tried to keep your voice steady as you rose back up to your feet.

“I’ll grab you some blankets,” you told him. “To help you get warm.”

Heading back over to your couch, you did your best to calm your breathing and once more mentally remind yourself of the situation the pair of you were in. Surely if he caught you staring longingly at his body you'd scare him away considering how skittish he seemed despite his flirtations with you. Besides, he was injured . That wasn't how you should be feeling right now, even if his body looked chiseled out of marble as he sat on your floor.

Picking up the two blankets from your couch that you’d fallen asleep under not that long ago, you bundled them in your arms before turning back around. Making your way back towards the almost naked vigilante sitting on your floor, you noticed that he’d scooted away from the puddle of water he’d made, now sitting in a dry spot.

Stepping over to the side of him, you bent over and gingerly wrapped both blankets around his bare, broad shoulders. The Devil quickly grabbed onto the edges of them and hugged them tight around himself as he softly thanked you. You saw his body give a shudder just before he grit his teeth, a muscle flexing in his jaw as his mouth twisted in pain.

“Hopefully that helps,” you said, straightening up and taking a few steps backwards. You gestured a hand towards the pile of his wet clothes on your floor. “I can take those down to the laundry facility in my building,” you offered. “It’s just a couple of floors down. I could try to throw them in a dryer to dry them a little for you while you're here.”

The Devil’s mouth curled into a soft smile as he shook his head gently. “No, that’s alright,” he replied. “They’ll just get wet again the moment I step back outside because it's still raining. And if anyone in your building were to see you with them, I’m sure they’d begin to wonder. I hear my clothing is…quite recognizable.”

A frown settled on your face as you stared at the wet clothing he would inevitably have to dress back into. “Right, yeah,” you mumbled, nodding. “That makes sense, I suppose. Though maybe I could lend you an umbrella?”

The Devil laughed lightly, but you spotted the grimace on his mouth as your attention returned to his face. The frown only deepened on your face and you wished there was more you could do to help him right now. He was clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in a lot of pain.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need both hands to get around out there,” he explained. “An umbrella would just get in the way.”

Sighing in defeat, you awkwardly wrapped your arms over your chest and glanced down at your bare feet. Now that he was sitting on your floor almost entirely undressed, injured, and wrapped in your blankets, you didn’t know what you should do with yourself while he did…whatever it was that he needed to do.

“Should I just give you some privacy then?” you questioned softly. “For your meditation? Or…?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Devil’s covered gaze drop down towards his lap. The movement appeared almost nervous, which had you glancing up curiously at his quiet form sitting there on the floor.

“Actually, could I ask one more favor?” he asked. “Even though I know I probably shouldn't.”

Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you wondered what he meant by that. But nevertheless, you were willing to offer him whatever help you could–within reason, of course. Because someone needed to make sure he was taken care of after everything he was always doing for this city. It was becoming increasingly obvious to you that he certainly didn't take care of himself to the extent that he needed to, and you still weren't convinced that he wasn't lonely and in need of someone on his side.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“Could you, maybe–”

He broke off on a nervous laugh which quickly turned into a groan of pain yet again. You winced, taking an involuntary step towards him.

“Could you maybe help keep me warm?” he asked hesitantly. “While I meditate, I mean?”

Your eyebrows instantly flew up onto your forehead at the question, but it was the tone of his voice that had you even more surprised. He always appeared so cocky and self-assured when he'd been here with you, but right now he sounded almost uncertain and nervous.

“It's just, the blankets alone aren't quite that warm enough for me to properly focus any time soon and–”

“Okay,” you blurted.

Your quick agreement to his request surprised even yourself as you stood there, staring at the Devil’s parted lips, his explanation left unfinished. Arms hugging your chest tighter, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Had you really just agreed to cuddle him half naked now? And so easily?

“It's okay if you're uncomfortable,” he assured you. “I realize what I'm asking you is a bit much, considering the circumstances.”

“No, it's–it's fine,” you replied, cautiously making your way towards him. “You have dubbed me your favorite space heater after all.”

A soft smile pulled the corners of his lips upwards as he nodded slowly. He opened his arms, spreading them wide and revealing his almost naked body beneath the blankets he’d been wrapped up in. Both of his legs were crossed before himself as he patiently waited for you to join him beneath the blankets. The sight only had your nerves increasing yet again tonight, because this moment also felt far more intimate than it probably should have.

“How would it be best for me to uh, lend you my body heat?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from rising a few octaves as you came to a stop directly in front of him. “I don't know what you need to do to heal. I don’t want to be in the way or anything.”

“If it's not too uncomfortable for you, you can just sit on my lap,” he answered. “I need to really focus on myself and tune everything else out. So as long as you're sitting fairly still you won't bother me.” A sheepish smile reappeared on his face as he added, “And we sort of need to be close in order to actually share body heat. Like before.”

You nodded, though you didn’t completely agree with him about this being like last time. Because before when you'd both cuddled together for warmth he had been fully clothed.

“Right,” you murmured. “Just like before.”

You hesitated a second longer, eyeing the way he was still sitting cross-legged on your floor, his arms still stretched open for you. With a deep breath in, you lowered yourself down onto his lap without any further opportunity to overthink the situation. Moving carefully, you adjusted your position on his lap, trying hard not to hurt him as both of your legs straddled his hips. Facing him, your arms nervously wrapped around his bare waist, your hands awkwardly resting on his lower back. His skin was cold to the touch and you resisted the urge to rub your hands along him to warm him up. Surely that would be crossing a line.

The Devil’s arms wrapped the blankets around the pair of you once you'd settled, inevitably encircling you in a sort of embrace that drew you even closer to the front of himself. Your cheeks were on fire as you felt your chest brushing against his solid one. Just like the first time he'd appeared at your apartment and cuddled you for warmth, you were growing increasingly aware of your bra-lessness around him. Especially with the way your nipples were poking at the fabric of your sweatshirt each time they grazed his very firm chest. You desperately hoped he hadn't noticed. It was already difficult enough trying to ignore the feel of him beneath your ass because that wasn't helping you to keep your head right now, either.

“Is this okay?” you whispered.

The Devil cleared his throat, his face mere inches from yours now that you were in his lap. You were doing your best to focus on the picture on your wall just behind him because staring at his lips would only result in you embarrassing yourself further.

“Yeah,” he answered. “As long as you’re comfortable. I’m just going to try to focus–” he paused, clearing his throat a second time, “–so I’ll uh, need silence for a bit.”

“How long?” you asked.

You kept your eyes glued to the picture on the wall, trying to ignore the way his chest brushed against yours with his next inhale. Despite how cold he felt, you felt like your own body temperature was elevating.

“Twenty minutes?”

Your eyelids fluttered at that deep, gravely voice just beside your ear, his warm breath grazing the side of your neck. You were going to be sitting in his lap for the next twenty minutes trying to resist the urge to kiss him? To grind down against his cock that you were positive you could just partially feel beneath you? To not bury your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him?

“Hopefully I’ll be able to concentrate,” he said, voice strained.

“Sorry,” you whispered back. “I'll try to sit still.”

Silence fell between the pair of you, but your mind quickly grew louder than the room around you. You kept having to remind yourself to focus on staying quiet and immobile because you were doing this to help the Devil. That was what you needed to focus on and nothing else.

Eventually, as an unknown length of time passed while you both sat there on your floor, you began to feel his body relax against yours, as if all the tension was beginning to gradually ease out of his muscles. His breathing became something steady and rhythmic, which was when your thoughts finally turned to something less inappropriate. Because instead of that blazing heat that had been building inside of you ever since he'd asked you to help remove his clothes, something softer and less intense began to fill you as you sat in his lap, your own body relaxing in turn against him.

Shifting your head to the side just a bit, your gaze moved from the picture on the wall back to his face beside yours. You imagined his eyes were closed beneath the black fabric now as he concentrated on whatever it was that he was doing. You wondered what color they were beneath all that black. Gaze lowering, you studied the strong line of his jaw, taking in the little hairs of his dark stubble. Eventually your gaze traveled towards his mouth, attempting to memorize the shape of his slightly parted pink lips. You could still feel each of his soft exhales brushing over your exposed neck. Each breath of his faintly tickled your skin as you gradually found yourself breathing almost in sync with him.

For a while that’s what you found yourself doing, silently observing him while you took soothing breaths that matched his own. You noticed the subtle shifts of his mouth as he sat quietly beneath you, the faint twitches of his arm muscles against your back. At a certain point you became aware of how warm his body had become, no longer as cold as when you’d first plopped into his lap.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he startled you with a very subtle movement. His head gradually lowered a few inches until his forehead came to rest against your shoulder. That unfamiliar warmth only grew inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest at the unexpected display of his trust with you tonight. Smiling slightly, your own head tilted a little to the side, coming to rest against his as your own eyelids lowered.

You may not have known much about the mysterious masked vigilante who ran around the streets of the city at night, but you knew he had a good heart. Underneath the flirtatious comments and jokes was a man who deeply loved this city and the people in it. You just wished the city could give him literally anything back in return for the blood he clearly spilled for it.

You must have briefly fallen asleep wrapped around the Devil because when he began to shift beneath you, you startled awake. Eyes slowly blinking the sleep from them, you pulled back and glanced at his face still so close to yours. The Devil was wearing a pleased grin, the sight causing your stomach to twist into knots.

“Comfortable?” he teased.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” you apologized quickly, embarrassed. “It's just late and I'm tired, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you again.”

“It's okay,” he assured you, still grinning. “But maybe I should get dressed and let you sleep in your own bed now.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, disappointment creeping into you. “Right. So you're–you're done with your meditation thing?”

“I am,” he answered. “And feeling far better and warmer than before. So thank you.”

His arms unwrapped themselves from around you, the cold from your apartment suddenly hitting the back of you where you were no longer wrapped inside the blanket cocoon with him. Biting your lip, you carefully disentangled yourself from around him, your heart strangely sinking to your stomach as you did.

Almost immediately after you'd climbed out of his lap, the Devil rose back up to his feet in a smooth motion, barely wincing at the fluid movement. He balled your blankets in his hands, your eyes drawn to the pull of muscles on his arms and chest as he moved with ease, looking nothing like the man who'd collapsed on your floor in pain not that long ago. He tossed the balled up blankets smoothly past you where they landed perfectly on the back of your couch.

Afterwards he turned, crossing the few steps towards his pile of damp clothes still lying on your floor. With barely any show of pain, you watched as he bent down, grabbing his still wet pants and beginning to pull them on. You cringed as he began to pull them up his legs, aware they must’ve been cold and uncomfortable to dress back in, but a glance back at your window proved that it was indeed still raining. Even if you'd dried them he would've been soaked again in seconds.

“You're going to have that friend of yours check on you, right?” you asked him. “To make sure you're alright?”

The Devil looked over at you, his hands buckling the belt of his tight pants. That cheeky smirk was on his lips again, which must have meant he somehow really felt better, even if you couldn't possibly begin to comprehend how what he'd done had actually healed him.

“Still worried about me?” he questioned back. “I promise I'll be just fine. And yes, I'll have my friend give me a little check up, if that helps ease your mind.”

“It does,” you admitted.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you focused on the window you knew he was soon to slip back out of in an attempt to give him privacy as he dressed. That unfamiliar sinking feeling was back in your gut again, demanding attention. But you didn't have long to contemplate what it meant before the Devil was stepping into the space before you, now fully clothed in his attire once more. Except for his gloves, you noticed, which he was holding in his left hand.

“Thank you for your help once again tonight, angel,” he whispered.

His right hand reached out, unexpectedly and gently cupping your jaw. The pad of his thumb affectionately traced along the line of it with a tenderness you’d never felt before, stopping once it reached the corner of your lips. Feeling your heart skip in your chest at his touch and what he'd just called you, the question slipped right past your lips in a faint breath.

“Angel?” you asked.

His thumb remained beside your lips, a faint smile ghosting over his own beneath his still damp mask. “Well you won't tell me your name,” he replied quietly. “And you continually insist on helping the Devil despite how undeserving I am, so I think it only seems fitting.”

His thumb moved, just barely grazing your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, your face involuntarily inching forward towards his.

“Sleep well, angel,” he murmured.

Too dazed to even formulate a response, you stood there silently as his hand released your face. Turning around, he made his way towards your window, quickly sliding his gloves on before raising it back up. Without hesitation, he slipped through the opening and back out into the cold, rainy night.

By the time you'd recovered from whatever that moment had just been, he was already closing your window after himself. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he turned and dove over the side of your fire escape railing.

Heart still hammering erratically in your chest, your hand reached up, fingers gently touching the place his just had. Closing your eyes, you could almost recall the tender feel of them on you even now.

And that's when it made sense. You weren't just eager to help the masked man because of what he did for the city and how much of a hero you thought he was. And it wasn't just because you believed he didn't really have many others in this city to help him.

It was because you were beginning to feel something for him. Something more than just physical attraction despite not knowing his name or his face.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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ilys00ga · 3 months

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BABY, I CARE FOR YOU.

➞ pair: yoongi x f reader

➞ genre: sickfic, best friends to potential lovers (who knows?), fluffy fluff, yoongi being the best bff you could ever ask for, I miss him so much.

➞ synopsis: where the reader is sick and her bff is always there for the rescue.

➞ warnings: none.

➞ A/N: another request by @parkjennykim, who used 'she/her' pronouns in the req so I used those accordingly. This was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :)

PS. readers, remember my reqs are still open for now. you can go ahead and send some (read pinned post if u haven't yet, tho).

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the bag you've been carrying all day slipped off of your shoulder as soon as you pushed the door to your apartment open and stepped in. not bothering to pick it up, you remove your shoes and leave them somewhere near the entrance and take a deep breath through the nose.

your body was having a party that day. muscles and head aching like crazy, throat bleeding as it burned with a ticklish feeling that lingered for hours and bringing out coughing fits from your chest every few minutes, legs barely holding you up and an annoyingly runny nose, you're sure the skin around it is red and raw from how you've been rubbing at it with tissues all day. not to forget the fact that you were freezing to death even though the heaters were doing their work in the flat more than enough.

“Mom is finally home!” A loud squeal came rushing from down the hall. You raised your head with some difficulty to see your best friend approaching you with your cat, Leo, in his arms and a wide smile adorning his face. He stopped in his tracks and frowned, however, as soon as he noticed your scowling expression and bloodshot eyes.

“Woah, you look so not happy right now.” he commented.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?” Though your expression softened as you spoke, your voice still held a wince the more uncomfortable the light bulb became to your squinted eyes.

“You didn’t answer my calls or even texts, so I just decided to come over myself.” he explained, then eyed you up with knitted brows and a barely noticeable pout on his cherry red lips, “are you okay?”

“My head and body are killing me. I’m going to sleep. You can stay as much as you like, just feed Leo before you leave, plea-." A couple of sneezes cut your sentence off. The action stabbed daggers into your already throbbing brain; so painful that your eyes teared up and you squeezed your hands around your skull to try and control the waves of shock that hit you all of a sudden.

“Wait,” Yoongi put Leo on the floor and walked towards you. the back of his hand felt like a soft, warm blanket wrapped up around your body on a cold, snowy night as it rested on your forehead, so you closed your eyes and hummed in satisfaction.

“You’re so hot.” he grimaced at the heat that bit his skin, and when he noticed how you smirked mischievously with your eyes still closed shut, he whined, “don’t!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Your tongue felt numb as you blinked your eyes open and smiled at him.

“Come, you need to take a warm bath and eat something.” his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, slowly pulling towards the bathroom.

"Your hands are always warm. I like that a lot." you whispered, absent-mindedly eying the way he was soothingly caressing the skin under his thumb.

“Are you going to bathe me?” his cheeks warmed up at the question you blurted so suddenly, but the way you were slurring your words implied that none of the things you were rambling about were intentional. the fever really took its toll on your brain.

“Go do your thing, and I'm going to make you something warm to eat.” he bit his lower lip and pointed towards the bathroom, leaving to start doing his task in the kitchen.

"The walls are spinning around me!" You whimpered as soon as you entered your room, wet hair wrapped up in a towel, a fluffy, warm hoodie swallowing your torso and a pair of sweatpants. Yoongi, who was sitting on your bed, immediately fixed his gaze on you with a small smile. you could spot your favorite pair of socks laying beside him on the bed sheets, and your heart skipped a beat or two at how thoughtful that small gesture alone was.

"I'm sorry. let me just blow dry your hair, and then you can eat." he apologized, pointing at the hair dryer he'd been holding in his hand and patting the empty spot next to him.

"You're spoiling me today." You complained, but still obediently sat besides your sweet friend.

"You're sick, I'm taking care of you." he replied matter-of-factly.

you murmured a small 'thank you' before he gently started taking the wet towel off your head, then started carefully drying your hair.

When you stepped into the kitchen, you found Yoongi setting plates, along with utensils on the small table located by the wall. his eyes landed on you as soon as your painful-sounding coughs announced your arrival.

“Feeling any better?” his brows rose worriedly, and his gaze followed your hunched up body as it walked and took a seat.

“kind of. thanks for the food.” You offered a genuine smile despite all the tiredness washing over your limbs. he nodded knowingly.

“Here, take these when you finish eating.” He put a tablet right next to your bowl and sat across from you, digging into his own plate as well.

After a while, you decided to break the comfortable silence when your eyes fell upon the clock hanging just above the door frame, “You have work tomorrow, and it’s getting late. you should probably go.”

“I know you’re a jackass and you’d sleep on an empty stomach if you wanted to, even when you’re sick.” he muttered so casually it almost made you giggle if it weren't for the guilt of forcing him to stay taking over your mind.

“That’s not right!” You started to argue but hissed when your head reminded you that it still got a tornado going on inside of it as it throbbed even harder.

“Stop talking and eat!” he scolded, and you wordlessly complied.

"I'm not leaving until you're tucked into bed and fast asleep," he added in a stern tone after a small pause, making you grin weakly and stuff your face with another spoonful of soup.

"Are you feeling any better?" Once again, yoongi asked after pulling the duvet over your chin. he chose to sit right by your side, on the floor and with his back facing you.

you replied with a muffled hum, barely audible as you were busy gratefully enjoying the softness of your comforter with closed eyes. it felt as though it had some kind of magic that absorbed all the aching tension in your body, allowing you to finally heave a sigh in relief after such a long, tiring day.

"Where's Leo?" you asked.

"probably napping somewhere after his meal."

"You fed him?"

"Of course I did. I'm not like you, forgetting my cat as soon as I get sick." he smirked teasingly.

"I didn't! I knew you were gonna stay, and I trusted you, like I always do." Your voice was only getting weaker and weaker, sleepy as you fought a battle against sleep just to answer your cheeky best friend.

Yoongi only smiled, glancing at you with tinted cheeks. he allowed his gaze to linger just a tad bit more on your closed eyes, nose poking out above the fuzzy blanket and shoulders ever so faintly shivering as the fever still clung onto you. he found the sight so endearing, he chuckled quietly and sighed, "Good to know you do."

"'m so 'ired." You slurred.

"Sleep, darling. I'm right here." was the last thing you heard him say ever so gently before surrendering your powers and drifting into a deep slumber.

Yoongi kept observing as you slept for a while before standing up. He bent down to press one soft kiss on your cheek and another one on your forehead, then walked out of the room with extra efforts not to make any noise and disturb your peaceful night when it had just started.

"Mom is sleeping. Let's hang out in the living room, hmm?" He picked up the fluffy cat that came running towards him as soon as he saw the door opening and kissed his head. heading towards the living room with a small smile on his face.

#yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #bts #bts imagines #bts fic #sickfic #friends to lovers #maybe not #hahaha #who knows #suga fluff #bts fluff #fluff

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bossbtch1 · 7 months

Text

Shadows Of The Past

The GIF and picture are not mine; credit goes to the respective artist/creator.

Summary : Bucky's nightmares have returned, and you wanted to make him feel better. However, both of you have different approaches in mind. Bucky then attempts to make a deal with you. What kind of offer will he propose, and will you accept it?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (No mentions of body type or ethnicity other than the reader being female)

General tags : SMUT, 18, Porn with Plot

TW: Needy!Bucky, Gentle!Bucky, Fluff, Comfort, PTSD, Cuddling, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Dirty talk, Unprotected sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal sex, Anal sex, Aftercare

Word Count: 7,5k

A/N : Hey there! As I promised, here's the first version of this story. Funny how it was meant to be short fic, but it turned into quite a story, huh? It's around 70% smut, but I've added some sweet fluff and comfort to the mix (so you won't get bored). So, go ahead, dive in! Hope you sin with me!

While you were asleep, a sharp cry pierced the silence, jolting you awake. Your eyes flew open, and your heart raced as you realized the agonized sound came from Bucky. He thrashed against the blankets that had been wrapped snugly around him, his face contorted into a pained grimace, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

The nightmares that had haunted him before had returned, and it seemed they were more relentless than ever, plaguing him for weeks. He tried to keep his suffering from you, not wanting you to worry, but he could no longer hide his distress.

Amidst his cries, you could hear him desperately calling out your name, his voice laced with terror. "No! Please no, don't hurt her. Y/N! Y/N!"

Hearing him call for you, pleading with someone who wasn't there, broke your heart. You hated seeing him suffer, and you wished there was some way to ease his pain.

You wanted to blame Shuri, blame Wakanda, blame his therapist. They said he was free of his trigger words, so why couldn't he sleep? Why couldn't he be free from the nightmares?

With a racing heart, you reached out, gripping his quivering shoulder, "It’s okay Bucky,” you whispered, your voice soft but urgent. "You're just having a nightmare, baby. Everything's going to be okay. I'm right here. It's just a dream. Please, just wake up, baby,” you murmured, running your hand gently over his cheek.

But he remained trapped in his own subconscious torment, lost in the depths of his nightmare.

Desperation welled up inside you, and you shook him more vigorously, hoping to pull him back from the horrifying visions that plagued his sleep. "Bucky, please, come back to me. I'm here with you, and I'm safe."

Slowly, his body began to relax and he stopped thrashing, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up, breathing heavily as his eyes frantically searched the room, his face wet with tears.

"Hi, there you are." You smiled, trying to mask the pain in your heart. "It's okay. You were having a nightmare, but it's over now. You're awake. I'm right here. No one can hurt us."

He looked at you, his eyes full of fear, still trying to discern what was real. You could see the fear still lingering in his gaze as he recognized you. "Y/N?" his voice cracked with fear and confusion.

"Yes, Bucky. It's me. I'm right here. See?" taking his trembling hand and placing it over your heart, letting him feel the rhythmic beating. "I'm okay. Everything's okay."

Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he felt the beating of your heart beneath his fingertips, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "Thank god." Burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you as he breathed deeply, the tension slowly leaving his body as he relaxed.

"It's okay, it's over," you whispered reassuringly, running a hand through his hair soothingly.

"I'm so sorry, baby" he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. "I didn't mean to wake you."

You cupped his face, looking into his eyes, seeing the exhaustion there. "It's okay, really. You don't need to apologize."

His gaze dropped, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. "I should be better. Stronger. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"I told you I would be there for you no matter what, and I meant it," you insisted. "It's okay, Bucky," you whispered, holding him close and stroking his back soothingly. "It was just a dream. I'm right here, and I won't let anything harm you."

He clung to you, his grip tight as if he feared letting go would send him spiralling back into the horrors of his dreams. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice strained, "I thought... I thought I lost you.”

"You will never lose me, Bucky," you said firmly, cupping his face and looking him straight in the eye. "Never. I promise."

He let out a shuddering breath, his body relaxing at your words. His breathing began to steady as he focused on your presence, the reality of your touch grounding him. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

"You don't have to know," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You have me, I'll always be here with you. And I'm not going anywhere."

Slowly, the panic receded, the adrenaline subsiding. His grip on you loosened, but he kept his arm around you, needing the reassurance of your touch.

Your fingers carded through his hair, gently working through the knots. "Would you like to talk about what happened?" you asked, your voice gentle and understanding.

He shook his head slightly, his lips forming a hesitant smile. "Not right now. Just being with you is enough."

"Okay, we can just lay here and cuddle. I love cuddling with you." You pressed another kiss to his forehead.

He smiled up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "I love you."

You wiped sweat from his face, kissing his temple. "I love you too."

He sighed, closing his eyes and settling back against your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart. "Thank you, baby. I'm sorry I keep waking you up like this. I don't know why I can't just let go of these nightmares."

"Shush, it's okay, Bucky. You don't need to say sorry.” Your voice was soft, your touch tender as you caressed his face. "We'll face this together. You're not alone."

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a small smile. Then you noticed both of your glasses were empty on the nightstand. As you tried to get up to fetch some water, Bucky caught your hands, holding them gently but firmly. "Where are you going?"

"Just to the kitchen," you replied. "Don't worry, I'll be right back. I'll get us some more water.”

“No, please. Don't go. Just stay with me." He tightened his arms around you, not letting go.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice strained. You could see the panic and desperation in his eyes, the fear of losing you still lingering in his mind.

You didn't want to leave him, and you had never seen him so distraught. You felt his grip tighten around your waist, his arms holding you close to him.

"Okay Bucky, I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere," you whispered, laying back down beside him. He curled up against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and clinging to you as if he were afraid you would disappear.

He curled up against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and clinging to you as if his life depended on it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be like this.”

You held him tighter as you murmured soft reassurances. "Shh, it's okay, Bucky. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm here for you."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? To help you relax?" Your fingers gently stroked his hair as you placed soft kisses on his forehead, offering him the comfort and security he desperately needed.

He looked at you, his gaze intense, the look in his eyes darkening with desire. "No. No." You knew where this was going.

"Why not baby? You know it will make me feel better." His mood changed in an instant, and he suddenly looked predatory, like a wild animal ready to devour its prey.

He didn't even wait for an answer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss, his hands roaming your body hungrily. He kissed and sucked your neck, his hand trailing down to your thigh and stroking your skin teasingly. He was already hard against your leg.

You broke the kiss, "Bucky no…”

He moved in and began to kiss the nape of your neck, making you moan. "Just a little? I'll be good to you, baby." He said in his best innocent voice. "Please, I need you." he breathed against your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

“We can't keep doing this. Dr. Raynor is very clear about this." Dr. Raynor, his therapist said this wouldn't help him, that it would just be a distraction every time and wouldn't actually help him through his trauma. You both had agreed that she was right.

"Screw the doctor, Y/N. I want you." He pecked a quick kiss to your lips and looked into your eyes, a pleading expression on his face. His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of your body.

"Will you help me forget about it?" He moved lower to between your thighs. Bucky lifted his head from between your legs and looked at you, "Will you let me pleasure you, my love?"

"No, Bucky. We can't." You said sternly even though your pussy getting wetter by the second. "You know it's not just my decision. We both agree," you whimpered as his finger kept hovering above your pussy, barely touching.

“Mm… I know…” He hummed. “But, I can also see you're getting wet." He slid his hand to touch your panties, rubbing your pussy, feeling the wetness seep through the fabric. "I don't think you want me to stop, doll."

"Mmmm," you moaned and tried to keep yourself from squirming under him. His thumb brushing over your clit and causing you to buck into his touch.

As much as you wanted to give in, you couldn't. You slapped his hands away and sat up. "You know the effect you have on me. That's not something I can control." You said, annoyed.

Then he trailed his hands over your breasts and cupped them, squeezing and kneading, his thumb circling your hardening nipples through the fabric of your dress. You arched your back and pressed into him.

"Doll. Please? I just need a little taste. I'll be good. I'll eat you out, lick your pussy and make you come, let me taste you.” He said, begging, his voice pleading.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the last bit of your composure. You "Ah! No…” You grabbed his wrist. "I'll do anything for you, but this is not the way. We're not having sex, Bucky."

He grabbed your waist, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he leaned forward, his lips just a breath away from yours.

"If it's going to make you better..." he guided your hand to his crotch, and you could feel how hard he was through his sweats. "You feel that? One look at you and this happened." You wanted to stroke him, but you needed to stay strong, for him.

"Bucky, stop," you pulled away your hand and looked at him. "We talked about this. Why can't you be reasonable?"

"Alright, what if we made a deal?" He asked.

"A deal?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. A deal."

"Go on." You were intrigued.

"No sex, no intercourse, no penetration. How about if I promise that I won't try anything, you let me have a taste. Let me please you."

"Hard pass. You said that the last time and we knew what happened. No." You said firmly, recalling the last time.

"C'mon doll, please? I'll be on my best behavior," he kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear, "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"No deal. You're a terrible influence, Bucky Barnes." You moved away from him.

He groaned and leaned closer and bit your ear lightly. You shivered and turned your head slightly. "Okay, if you let me fuck you right now, I'll go see that doctor tomorrow," he offered, and his lips moved over the pulse point on your neck.

You could feel your breath hitching, "Really? You'd go see her willingly?" You beamed at his progress. But you didn't want to cave in yet and give him what he wanted, "But you need to see her regularly after this.”

"How often?" He said, he sucked on your neck, leaving a mark, and started to move on top of you.

"Twice a week, at least," you replied, closing your eyes and enjoying his body against yours as he rubbed his hard-on against you, teasing you through the thin material.

“And what do I get on my end? If I do all that for you, I need something in return. It's a deal. Right?"

"Right," you replied. You thought of what you should do with him. What could you offer in exchange. "You get me?" It sounded absurd even to your own ears. But the look on his face told you that was the best thing you could offer.

Bucky chuckled, "Hmm. That's a very tempting offer." You could see him smiling, and his hands caressing your waist. "But I already got you. Try again, sweets."

You could see how his blue eyes were shining with lust. His pupils dilated, and he licked his lips, his eyes not leaving yours. You could feel his excitement rubbing against your inner thighs.

He moved his hand lower to under your breast. You stilled a moan when his thumb rubbed your nipple. "Okay then, we can have sex as often as you want."

Bucky hummed, and his fingers moved from your breasts to your belly, and lower. "As much as I love that idea, I already get you as often as I want.”

"Oh fuck." You breathed heavily, "Bucky, you're not being fair."

"Says the woman who wants me to go back to that old therapist, so she can dig into my head." He said, his fingers slipping between your legs. "She's annoying. And she asks too many questions."

"She's not annoying. She's just doing her job," you defended Dr. Raynor. Bucky shrugged.

"Fine, I'll suck you off." You could feel yourself getting more and more wet, you wanted him now, but you held back, not yet, not until he agreed to go see Dr. Raynor.

"That's not a bargain, that's just a normal day for us." He said, teasing. "Come on, what are you willing to give me?" He grinned and his tongue traced the outer edge of your ear.

“You're not playing fair." You whined.

"Oh but, baby. I never play fair. So, what are you offering?" He licked your neck and kissed it.

You bit your lips, you knew what to say. You knew exactly what to say. But the only thing is, would you say it? You stared to his blue eyes, those blue ocean that was full of desire.

You stared to his blue eyes, those blue ocean that was full of desire. "Well?" He said, his thumb flicked your lips.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. "You can put it in my ass," you whispered.

Bucky's movements stilled, his eyes narrowing in surprise and confusion. He leaned back slightly, studying your face intently. "I didn’t hear you," he said, his tone demanding an explanation. "What was that?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you gathered your courage. With a steadying breath, you spoke louder, your voice carrying more conviction this time. "I said, you can put your dick in my ass."

His lips twitched and his eyes crinkled. "Y/N. Look at me." You shook your head, feeling shy.

He moved his hand and took your chin and turned your face towards him. "Are you sure?" He asked, a serious expression on his face.

"Yes," you replied, your voice quivering slightly. "If you agree to go to Dr. Raynor, if you see her and promise to work with her, I'll let you fuck me in the ass."

"Baby, please, don't," he pleaded, his voice laced with both concern and guilt. "I don't want you to force yourself."

"No, no, no, I'm okay. I want this. I'm willing to try. Beside I’ve been thinking about this. So, no. I'm not forcing myself." You reassured him.

"Fuck. Are you sure, baby girl? This is a big step. I can wait. You know that, right? You're worth the wait. If you're not ready, you should tell me. It's not like we're rushing it."

"I'm ready, Bucky. I trust you," you said, your voice firm yet gentle. You paused, your eyes locking onto his, determination shining through. "However, there's a new condition. You need to see your Dr. Raynor regularly. Make it three times a week," you added, your tone unwavering.

He looked at you, his expression conflicted. You didn't want him to back down, "And I will make it worth your while. I'll let you do anything you want with me."

A mischievous smirk played on his lips, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Anything, huh?" he teased.

"Within reason," you quickly clarified, clearing your throat, ensuring there were boundaries even in your desperation to help him.

"Alright. It's a deal. Three times a week and I get to put it in your ass." Bucky agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You couldn't help but smile too, relief flooding through you. You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"That's how you bargain, baby." He teased you.

“Just kiss me please.” You couldn’t resist him anymore. You missed his dick inside of you, missed the feeling of him thrusting inside you, filling you.

"Only because you asked nicely," he said, his voice tender, before leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

You moaned, "More." You begged, tugging at his hair.

He chuckled and crashed his lips into yours. He pulled you closer, kissing you fiercely. You moaned and opened your mouth, inviting his tongue in. He sucked and swirled his tongue around yours.

Your tongues danced together, fighting for dominance as his hands slid down your body. They landed on your ass and squeezed before he pulled away to pushed your shirt up to your neck, exposing your breasts.

He grinned as he stared at your breast. He cupped them, giving them a squeeze before his thumbs rubbed your hard nipples. You threw your head back and moaned.

He licked a stripe from between your breast to the valley, then to the other breast, giving it the same attention, licking and sucking, then biting lightly.

You moaned at his touch, your breast and your clit felt so sensitive, like you could come any minute. He grinned satisfied by your reaction, he loved how wet and sensitive you got for him. He kissed your neck, biting gently on your skin, leaving his mark on you, he wanted the whole world to know you were his.

"Now, first let me taste that delicious pussy of yours." You gasped as he pulled you toward him and knelt in front of you, putting your legs over his shoulders.

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, and he rubbed your inner thigh to opened your legs wider. He pushed your panties to the side, his hand slowly made his way down to your core, teasing you before inserting his fingers inside you.

You moaned at the sensation. "Bucky, please..." You moaned, desperate for his touch.

"Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you need." He slowly dragged your underwear down. You felt the cool air hit your wet pussy, and you shuddered.

He took a moment to admire the sight of you completely exposed to him, his eyes roamed over every inch of your body. His pupils were blown wide and you could see the desire in his eyes.

"You're so wet, so ready for me." He groaned, his breath tickling your inner thighs.

You felt the tip of his tongue lick a line up to your clit, and you felt a shockwave run through your body. He licked your slit from bottom to top, then he swirled his tongue on your clit, causing you to gasp loudly. He inserted a finger in and started to fuck you fast with his fingers, his tongue licking your clit.

He was so good, his tongue lapping your pussy like a starving man, lapping up your juices, teasing your clit and fucking your hole. You moaned loudly and made him chuckle, "So fucking responsive."

It felt amazing, the sensations of his tongue and fingers was almost too much, but not enough at the same time. His other hands travelled to your nipples, tugging and pulling them, the sensation going straight to your core. He knew exactly how to drive you insane, he was so good at this, and it was so hot.

You could feel your orgasm building, and you tried to hold back. You were so close, but you didn't want to come too soon.

"Do you like this, baby?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

“Yes, I do. It feels so good."

You felt his tongue deep inside of you, lapping and swirling up your juices, while his thumb pressed against your clit making your toes curled. You bucked your hips up to his face, searching for your release.

He added another finger, his fingers pumping in and out, and then curling, hitting the spot inside of you as he continued to eat you out. "I believe this is the spot that gets you going, baby."

"Yes, Bucky." You moaned loudly, not caring about anyone hearing.

His fingers kept stroking you, and his tongue was licking and flicking your clit. "Please don't stop."

"Come for me baby, scream my name." He pumped faster, curling his finger harder. He went up to your clit, sucking and biting. His flesh hand on your breast, twisting your nipples. He pinched your nipple hard, and you came.

Your orgasm hitting you hard. "Ahh. Bucky. Mmmhhh.. Yes, yes, ahh.."

He slowly stopped, his lips leaving your pussy. He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, moaning at the taste. "Mmhh, so sweet."

"Thank you Bucky." You pulled his head toward you so you could kiss him. He came up and kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself in his mouth and it was so hot.

"We're not done yet, babydoll," he murmured, his voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. He held your gaze with intensity. "The deal is still on, but first, I need to fuck that tight pussy," he continued, his tone low and seductive, making your heart race with anticipation.

He pushed his briefs down exposing his rock hard erection. You bit your lip, admiring the sight in front of you. He was a very attractive man. His chiseled abs, his strong arms, his piercing blue eyes. And his cock, it never cease to amaze you how you can take him everytime.

Then he pushed your knees up and opened your cunt wide open. You felt so exposed and vulnerable, your pussy lips spread wide open as he moved forward.

You moaned again when his cock made contact with your dripping pussy. He teased you for a little while, rubbing the tip against your swollen folds.

"This going to be hard and fast. So get ready, babydoll."

He said as he began to push himself inside you. You were so wet that he slipped in easily, but the stretch still hurt. You let out a gasp. Your pussy lips wrapped around his cock and you felt his balls hitting against your ass. He then pulled back and slammed into you, making you moaned. He did this a couple of times, slowly fucking you.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good." He groaned.

"Faster. Oh, Bucky. Please." You begged.

"As you wish." He smirked.

He picked up the pace, slamming into you. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, stretching your hole wide open. He was using all his strength to fuck you and you loved every second of it. You couldn't believe how good it felt. You were screaming his name and moaning, not caring about the world. All you cared about is the feeling of Bucky's cock pounding into you, hitting all the right spots.

"Oh Bucky, oh god, please don't stop." You felt his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, stretching your hole wide open. He held your legs tightly, preventing you from squirming.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, as his hands gripped your hips. His fingers dug into your flesh, sure to leave bruises. But you didn't care. The only thing you were focused on is how good Bucky was fucking you.

"Do you like that, Y/N?" He said, his voice low and husky.

"Mhmm." You mumbled, too lost in pleasure to respond properly. He was fucking you so hard, you could feel his balls slapping against your ass.

"That's what I thought." He growled, leaning down and sucking on your nipple. You cried out as he bit down on your sensitive bud.

You felt your orgasm building up inside you. He started thrusting harder, and deeper, hitting your G-spot over and over again. "Oh, Bucky, I'm gonna cum!" You screamed.

"Milk my cock, baby.” He grunted. With that you felt your orgasm hit you hard. Wave after wave of pleasure swept through your body and you felt your pussy contracting around his cock.

He didn't stop pounding into you as you came, instead he fucked you harder, pushing you through your orgasm. He then pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely helpless and at his mercy. "Bucky, please!"

"Oh no, baby, I'm not finished with you yet." His grip was so tight, and he continued to thrust into you. He used his one hand holding your hands there while he used the other to reach down and rub your clit. You moaned and arched your back, loving the feeling of his hands on you.

"That's right, keep doing that. Let me hear you."

You were lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around you. You were a quivering mess beneath him, and you couldn't form a coherent sentence. This time it went much deeper than his normal thrusts. The pleasure was overwhelming. Your second orgasm was approaching, and you knew you couldn't last much longer.

"Oh yes, Bucky, I'm close. Please, fuck, oh god."

"I'm close too, babydoll. Come with me."

"YES! YES!" You screamed, reaching your second orgasm.

His thrust became more erratic, and you could tell he was about to come too. You felt his cock pulsing inside of you, and he let out a loud groan as he released his seed into you.

"Oh, fuck!" He cried out, his face scrunched up in pleasure.

You both rode out your orgasms together, his head falling onto your chest. Your legs were shaky, and your heart was pounding.

You both lay there, panting, trying to catch your breaths. You smiled as you looked up at him, "Wow. That was amazing."

"You're damn right, babydoll. You're so beautiful, and I love you so much." He replied, kissing your forehead.

He let you catch your breath first before leaning over, his eyes locking onto yours. "Are you ready for the main event now?" he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he winked at you.

"Yes." You said, nervously. You were both excited and nervous for what was about to happen. You had never done anal sex before, and you were scared that it would hurt.

"Don't worry, baby, I will make sure to be gentle. If it hurts, just tell me to stop and I will." He assured you by gently kissing your lips.

"I trust you, Buck." You smiled, feeling a little bit better.

He climbed off you and reached for a bottle from the nightstand drawer. "What's that?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He sat on the bed and opened the bottle. It was lube. "Oh." You blushed. "You had that just lying around?"

Sitting back on the bed, he opened the bottle. It was lube. "Oh." Your cheeks flushed with surprise. "You had that just lying around?" you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Yes. Just in case," he said, his tone nonchalant.

"In case of what?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in playful curiosity.

"In case we did this," he replied, gesturing between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You couldn't help but giggle, realizing you had fallen right into his trap. "You cheeky bastard, were you planning this all along?" you teased.

He flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, let's say I had a hunch you might eventually succumb. Although, I must admit, this scenario played out differently than I imagined," he added, referring to being dragged to the therapist, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

"You're such a naughty man, James Buchanan Barnes," your eyes narrowing playfully.

"That's why you love me," he replied with a wink, his tone flirtatious.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you let out a soft sigh. "One of the many reasons," you confessed, your voice softening as you gazed at him with affection.

Then, there was a brief silence. Bucky broke the quiet, his voice laced with concern, "Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want to force you into something you're not comfortable with."

"I do, really. I'm just a bit nervous, you know? What if it hurts?"

His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. "It might hurt, yes," he acknowledged. "But I will make sure it won't be long. If it becomes too much, you need to tell me, alright? I don't want you to keep it to yourself."

You nodded, "I trust you, Bucky. How do we do this?"

A reassuring smile curved his lips. "That means the world to me, Y/N."

His fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, his touch soothing. "Well, I need to prep you first. " he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I need to make sure you're ready and lubed up, then I will ease myself into you."

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment, trusting Bucky to guide you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely more than a breath. "Let's do this."

He opened the bottled and you shivered in anticipation. He poured a big amount of the liquid on his hand and spread it all over his member, giving special attention to the head.

He poured more lube on his hands and he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He gently pressed his finger against your entrance, circle your hole. You tensed up a bit, and he stopped. "Relax, doll. I'm just massaging you, don't be so tense. I need you to loosen up."

He kissed you again, and this time, you relaxed. He continued his ministrations, "I'm gonna try to enter one finger, okay? Let me know if you feel any discomfort."

You nodded and watched as he poured more lube on his fingers. Slowly pushing his finger past the ring of muscle and slowly eased it inside. You moaned as his finger slipped inside, stretching your walls. It was a weird sensation, and you felt a slight discomfort, but not a painful one.

"How does that feel, doll?" He asked, his voice low and husky. "Does it hurt?"

You took a deep breath, trying to adjust to the sensation. "Yes, it feels weird, but I'm okay. Don't stop," you assured him.

"That's normal," he said, his tone soothing, and he placed a soft kiss on your neck. "Just try to relax, okay?" His words were comforting, and you found yourself nodding, trusting him completely.

He was gentle and slow, taking his time. He started to move his finger, sliding it in and out, until he thought you were ready for a second one. He pushed the second finger inside, and you moaned.

"Do you like that?"

"Mmhmm." You moaned, your eyes closed.

He smiled, moving his fingers in and out, making sure to stretch you well.

"You think you're ready for a third one, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please."

He pushed the third finger in and you moaned, arching your back. The pain was still there but now, there was pleasure, and you were beginning to feel the pleasure taking over the pain.

"You’re doing so good, baby. I can't wait to fuck your ass, baby. I'm going to fill you up." He mumbled. kissing you deeply.

His kisses went down to your jawline and you moaned, gripping his hair. He curled his fingers inside and you screamed, arching your back.

"Does that feel good, doll?"

"God, yes! More, please." You begged, pushing your hips against his hand.

"Fuck, baby. Your ass feels so good. So tight and warm." He growled, licking your nipples, sucking on them, teasing you. His metal hand went to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His hands and tongue were all over you, making you feel so good, so loved. You were squirming and moaning, digging your nails into his skin. You could felt your orgasm approaching.

"Please, Bucky. I need you. Please." You moaned, gripping his shoulders.

"I've got you, doll. Just hang on." He growled, he circling your clit and you cried out, the pressure feeling good, so good.

"Let me know who makes you feel this way." He whispered, his hot breath tickling your neck.

"Oh god! Yes! Bucky!” You cried as you came. You laid there panting, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You couldn't believe, you came from his finger on your ass.

"You're such a good girl, doll. So perfect, so beautiful. So amazing." He growled, pulling his fingers out of your ass.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked, rubbing his nose against yours.

"Yeah, that was... That was surprisingly good." You panted, smiling.

"Good.” He smiled brushing your hair, “I think you're ready for my cock now." He poured generous amount of lube to his cock. He stroked himself, getting his cock coated with the lubricant. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready, Buck."

He cupped your face tenderly, his thumb caressing your cheek. "If it's too painful, tell me to stop, okay? Your comfort is my priority."

"I will, Buck."

You looked down at his hard cock as he got into position. He lined his cock on your entrance. Slowly, he entered you, making sure not to hurt you. It was a very different sensation. It didn't feel like you were being torn apart, but you did feel a slight burning sensation, and the fullness was quite intense.

"Oh, fuck!" He groaned. "God, baby, you're so fucking tight!”

You tensed, and Bucky hissed, he looked at you, his eyes clouded with lust. "Baby, you gotta relax. If you tense up, you'll make it more difficult for the both of us." He said, his breath labored.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to relax. "Sorry, it just feels weird. But, don't stop, I'm okay." He moved in a bit further, and you bit your lip.

The more he pushed, the more you felt like he was tearing you apart. You whimpered and he stopped, caressing your face. "Baby... tell me if it hurt. Don't bear the pain. I can stop, if you want me to." He reassured you.

"I'm fine. Just getting used to the feeling. Don't stop."

He pushed further and further, and you cried out, clutching onto him. "You're doing so good, sweetheart."

When he was finally fully sheathed inside you, you both let out a sigh.

"Oh my God, Buck." You panted, moaning at the feeling. You immediately felt too full. You felt so full, and it felt so good. You were breathing hard, adjusting yourself to the size of his cock. Why did it have to be so huge? It would hurt less if it were a bit smaller.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just adjusting myself to your size. Fuck, you're so big. I feel so full.” You groaned.

"Where's the fun in being small, doll?" He smirked, biting his lips.

"Don't be cheeky," you retorted, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He kissed you, his tongue swirling with yours, and you moaned. He pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his. He wiped it off with his thumb and sucked it clean, licking his lips.

"Fuck. That's so hot, Bucky."

"You're taking my dick so well, doll. I can't believe it." He said. "I'm going to move now okay?" You nodded and he moved his hips, and you gasped. He started to move slowly, and you moaned, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good. So warm, so tight."

Bucky was moving so slow, it was almost torture. He was so slow and gentle, treating you as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. You could see how hard he tried to hold himself back, his eyes closed, and his teeth clenched.

"You can move faster, you won't hurt me." You told him.

"Doll, I don't want to hurt you. You're still so fucking tight, and it takes everything in me to hold back."

"It's not gonna hurt, Buck. Please, don't hold back. Just do it." You begged.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, okay?"

He pulled out almost completely and slammed back in, making you moan. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, making him go even deeper. He groaned, and you whimpered, digging your nails into his flesh.

"Yes, yes." You braced yourself again. The sound of your skin slapping was loud and obscene, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"Ah, Bucky, it's so good." You moaned, feeling him pounding into you.

He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth. You moaned into his mouth. "You gave me your first time, doll. Thank you." He whispered.

He moved his hips faster, and you cried out, you could feel him speeding up. He was panting, his forehead pressed against yours. You started moving your hips with him, meeting him with every thrust.

"Fuck. You're such a good girl. Taking my cock like this."

You were a moaning mess. The only words that came out from your mouth were his name and incoherent babble.

"Faster, Bucky, please!" You urged him.

He complied and picked up the pace. He started thrusting into you faster and deeper. He was fucking you hard and fast. The headboard of the bed was slamming on the wall. You were lost in the sensation.

"Is this what you want, babydoll? You want me to fuck your ass roughly, don't you?"

"Oh god, Bucky! Yes, yes!" You moaned.

"What a bad girl, wanting to get her ass fucked.” He brushed your hair from your face and stared at you as he fucking you. “God, Y/N, you look so fucking sexy. Your breasts bouncing and jiggling, the way your mouth hang open as you scream my name, the way you're clenching around my cock. You're fucking perfect."

His words went straight to your core, "Oh Bucky, you feel so good." You moaned, feeling yourself clench around his dick.

Bucky pounded harder, making sure to hit that spot every time. You moaned and cried as the pleasure intensified. You couldn't even think straight. You couldn't remember what was going on, or why, all you could think of was the feeling of Bucky's cock inside you.

"Are you close, baby?" He asked.

"So close." You gasped.

Bucky continued thrusting, chasing his orgasm. His movements were erratic and frantic. He pounded into you, his balls slapping against your skin. "I’m close too. I'm gonna come, doll. Where do you want me to come? Do you want me to pull out?"

"No! Don't stop! Please don't stop!" You cried.

Bucky's movements were frantic and wild. His breathing was labored and his moans were louder than before. "Fuck! I'm gonna come!" He yelled.

You were seeing stars as you screamed his name, coming around his cock. You could hear him grunting, and soon enough he came too, his cock pulsing inside you. You felt him spilling his load into you, his hot come filling your ass. He kept thrusting until he was done.

He collapsed on top of you, his sweaty chest sticking to yours. You were panting, trying to catch your breath. He kissed your neck and rolled to the side, taking his spent dick out of you. You hissed and felt a trail of cum falling from your hole.

"You did so great, baby. I can't believe it. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" He caressed your cheeks.

You turned to face him, a smile on your face. "Yes, I'm sore. But it was worth it. Thank you, Bucky.”

"You are such a perfect girl for me. Thank you, doll. I love you."

You were so tired afterwards, he overstimulated you. You came too many times and you could barely speak. He held you and kissed your forehead, whispering how proud he was of you.

You were lying there with him as he stroked your hair, humming a soft melody. The room smelled of sex, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be in his arms. Your muscles and ass would be sore the next day, but it was worth it. It was a special experience and you couldn’t be happier.

"Stay here, I'm going to clean you up." He went to get up and get a towel, he knew you were too sore to move.

"You don't need to, just lie down with me."

"But you are a mess. We both are. I need to take care of you. You are the one that has my seed inside you."

"Bucky, please," you pleaded softly, not wanting him to go through the trouble.

He didn't listen to you. He gently kissed your forehead before getting up and walking over to the bathroom, giving you a perfect view of his toned toned ass. You giggled and shook your head, he was such a dork. He came back with a warm wet towel.

When he came back, you couldn't help to admire how hot he looked right now, his body glistening with sweat and all messy, thoroughly fucked. He was still naked, standing in front of you, his cock hanging between his legs.

As he returned, his eyes caught yours, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "What are you smiling about?" he asked.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your amusement, but it escaped in a soft giggle. "I'm just enjoying the view." you replied with a playful grin.

He chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Well, I'm glad you find it enjoyable," he teased, his eyes lingering on your face before he shifted his gaze down your body, and then back up again. "I must say, the feeling is quite mutual."

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his boldness. "Smooth talker, aren't you?"

He grinned, his confidence infectious. "Only when I'm around someone as stunning as you."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the compliment had its intended effect, making you feel both flattered and a little bashful. "You know how to charm a girl, Sergeant Barnes."

He winked at you, his smile turning into a smirk. "I aim to please."

He crawled into bed with you, Bucky gently began cleaning you up, his touch gentle yet firm. You were exhausted and sore, and in that moment, his care felt like a lifeline.

He spread your legs and started cleaning you up, removing the cum and wetness that was leaking from your entrance. "Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

"You were perfect, baby. This is exactly what I wanted. I'm so happy right now.” You said and smiled at him.

He ran the warm cloth along your thigh, and then did the same to your other leg. His hair was messy, but his eyes were sparkling with contentment. You couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by the sight of him.

He broke the silence, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession, "It was Zemo."

"Huh?" You were too mesmerized with his beauty, so you didn't pay attention.

His jaw clenched with the memory, as he wiped you clean, gently. "My nightmare." He began, his voice strained. "We were back at the Berlin facility, and he was talking about Sokovia. He wanted me to become the Winter Soldier again. But I couldn't, not after everything I've been through. I couldn't go back to that darkness."

His voice cracked, and you could feel his pain as if it were your own. "But then he said that you were going to get killed instead. I didn't have a choice, I had to do it. I was fighting myself, trying to break free and reach you, but I was trapped, helpless, and just screaming..."

His breathing became rapid, shallow gasps escaping his lips. "Hey... hey..." you murmured, gently bringing his face to meet your gaze. His eyes were clouded with fear, refusing to meet yours directly.

"Bucky, look at me," you implored, your voice soft yet unwavering.

His blue eyes finally bore into yours, searching for solace amidst the storm of his thoughts. "It wasn't real. I'm here, safe and sound, and so are you. You're safe now. He's gone," you assured, your words carrying a soothing cadence.

Moving closer, you delicately stroked his face, your touch a balm to his turmoil. A tender kiss landed on his forehead, a silent promise of security. "Zemo is not here, and neither is HYDRA. You are safe, and I am safe. They can't hurt us anymore."

He remained silent, his vulnerability laid bare before you.

"You can't change the past, Bucky," you continued, your voice gentle but firm. "It's behind us, and we have to live in the present. We're together now, and that's all that matters. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah? You promise?"

"Of course, I do. I'm not leaving you, Bucky." You tried to lighten up the mood, “Where else can I find someone that can fuck me like you?”

He laughed, “Yes, no one allowed to fuck you. Only me.” He was getting possessive. He hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead. "Thank you baby, thank you for everything. I love you, babydoll."

"I love you too, Bucky. Get some sleep. You need rest."

"I love you more, doll. Sleep well."

He cleaned himself up, then lay next to you and covered you with a blanket. He cuddled up close and wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled up against his chest, closing your eyes.

A/N : Woah congrats, I'm glad you can make it till the end with how long the smut is. Is it to your liking? Gentle and Needy Bucky are in my top 3 so I've been really wanting to make this kind of story. That aftercare especially ugh I feel like it doesn't get enough attention.

Stay tuned for version 2 - it's going to be packed with angst, fluff, and some hurt/comfort, maybe with a touch of mild smut. Is that something you're interested in? Let me know!

If you guys like my story, please check out my other stories : masterlist

Happy sinning! (is that a word? lol)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky fluff #bucky comfort #marvel x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky one shot

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welcometomyoasis · 7 months

Text

The number one period essential, Choi Seungcheol

Requested by: @brownsugarbaybee Pairing: seungcheol x gn! reader Genre: fluff, comfort Word count: approx. 800 words Warnings: reader has a uterus, menstruation A/n: my first request 🥺 i hope you like it Kari! 💜

Walking onto the balcony of your apartment, you smiled softly when the fresh evening breeze hit your face. The weather had been nice today. It would have been a great day for an evening walk down by the river. But alas, you were cooped up in your apartment, nursing your period cramps and aches.

Sighing, you took one last longing look at the setting sun before closing the balcony door and drawing the curtains. You clutched your abdomen and hunched over, grimacing as yet another round of cramps hit you.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

“Define what you mean by okay Cheollie. I’m currently nursing what feels like a thousand stabs to my uterus. If you mean that, then I’m just peachy.”

Snickering, your boyfriend crouched down next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and gently rubbed his other hand against your abdomen. You and Seungcheol had been dating long enough that he knew how to handle your cramps well. The warmth of his palm slowly soothed your pain, and the rhythmic motion helped to soothe your foul mood.

Looking at Seungcheol, you grinned sheepishly, “thanks cheollie. Now, if you don’t mind, can we cuddle on the couch while watching tv?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Snuggling closer to Seungcheol, you took a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent. He was focused on the tv show, but had his arms wrapped around you. Seungcheol was like a human heater and you were convinced that he was the best weighted blanket ever. He provided the warmth and comfort that you craved even as your body continued to put you through the monthly torture. In other words, having a Seungcheol during your period was necessary.

You brought your arms up to rest against his and turned to tuck your head against the crook of his neck. You rubbed your head against his neck, giggling as his hairs tickled your face. Even without looking at him, you knew he was happy. You could feel the smile slowly creeping up on his face, and the deep chuckle that reverberated through his chest. You were content.

Sadly, that contentment did not last long. After a while of being in that position, you were starting to overheat. The warmth from your boyfriend that once brought you comfort was now making you feel irritable. Everything just felt wrong. You were feeling heavy, sticky, the cramps had come back, and to make matters worse, you could start to feel the disgusting mess down there. Squirming around in Seungcheol’s arms, you tried to find a more comfortable position. Feeling this, he inhaled sharply. And that was when you snapped.

Huffing, you pulled Seungcheol’s arms away from you and shot up from the couch. Confused, Seungcheol asked, “what’s wrong?”

“You’re breathing.”

“I’m sorry what? I’m breathing?”

Nodding, you folded your arms and sat at a spot on the couch that was further away from him. Seungcheol looked at you incredulously. Taking a moment to compose himself, he slowly inched his way towards you. You turned away from him, sulking and rubbing your hands against your arms rather harshly.

Seungcheol grabbed your hands, and brought them down to lay against his on his lap.

“Baby?” The softness and worry that coated his voice broke you out of your little moment.

Your lip quivered as you turned to face him. You said, “oh I’m sorry Cheollie. Everything is just wrong. Everything hurts. I’m warm, I’m irritable. I have cramps, my back hurts. Here you are trying to help me feel better and here I am just making everything worse.”

Humming, he replied, “It’s okay. We’ve been through this before, remember? Last month, and the month before that, and the one before that. I could go on. The point is, I’m here to help. Whatever you need. I don’t mind that you are cuddly one minute, and then giving me the cold shoulder the next. You always make up for it anyway, plus you deal with my moods all the time, not just once every month.”

Letting out a laugh, you scrunch your nose saying, “yeah, your moods. Especially on your birthday.”

Seeing you smiling again, Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He looked at you and rubbed the back of your hand using his thumbs. He said, “How about this? You just sit here to cool off, and I’ll get us some food. How does ice cream, chocolate, potato chips, cookies, and hot tea sound?”

“It sounds perfect. Thank you Cheollie. You treat me so well.”

“Anything for you baby. Now, just rest and I'll be back soon."

Watching Seungcheol potter around the kitchen, the feeling of contentment washed over you once again. Curling yourself into a ball on the couch, you had only one thought.

If anyone asks me what my period essential is, I would tell them this - it's Choi Seungcheol.

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

I Need Him Like Water

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You think Bucky’s having an affair. He thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. But he must notice the living room light is left on. Every night.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst! (w/ a happy ending!), miscommunication, mentions of infidelity

a/n: I love feedback!! Please let me know what you think, it gives me motivation to write more :)

Masterlist

The living room light was dim, just a yellow glow reflecting on bare brick walls and the satin of unused couches. You had meant to turn that lamp off an hour ago—when Bucky still hadn’t come home and the clock still continued to tick past times you refused to acknowledge.

You had meant to be in bed before his boots even clicked past the threshold of your apartment.

He threw his jacket on the kitchen table, ignoring the coat closet where your own jacket was left hanging alone. The reprimand caught in your throat, guarded behind the firm line you had pressed your lips into. You blinked at the kitchen cabinets, the glass of water nearly slipping through your fingers.

“Hey, sweetheart. You stay up waiting for me?”

His voice was uncomfortable—not the tone, but the way it hit your ears. You couldn’t remember a time you had felt that way about him. A sort of guilt crept along the seams of your skin, coiled in your chest until you had to fight off a grimace.

“No,” you replied, a sigh in the otherwise stagnant air. “Just got up for some water.”

He would know you were lying the moment he stepped into the bedroom. A glance at the untouched bed, still made up from this morning in an attempt to distract your mind, and he would know. You could lie and say you fell asleep on the couch. Or maybe, he wouldn’t even ask.

He shifted, and you could hear the way denim brushed against skin. “Okay. I’m gonna get ready to turn in for the night.”

“Okay,” you affirmed. The water from your glass trickled into the sink. The sound lined up with his footsteps.

Another light flipped on in the apartment, somewhere in the back, where the city wouldn’t be able to see if they looked up at the high rise. But you knew it was on; you could hear Bucky rummaging around in the bathroom and the pale-white illumination was a gentle cast on the hall floor.

You fought the urge to rip open the neglected coat closet and leave. It would be so easy to break this routine, to finally stop pretending that you went to bed every night for the second time after he came home. To come to terms with the fact that you loved him too much; that he probably stayed for convenience, for comfort, for an easy home. That you needed him, and he simply acknowledged you.

But you wouldn’t. Because you loved him too much.

So you flipped the living room light off—let the bulb slowly cool as you shuffled toward the bedroom and brought a feigned calm along with you.

“Did you have a nice night?” you asked, after slipping under tightly tucked blankets.

Pale light dimmed. The room was left in darkness, but you could still see him.

“Not really. Was just work, you know the drill.”

“I wish they wouldn’t keep you so late,” was all you could formulate. Because you didn’t know the drill. You didn’t know if he was really at work, or who he was really with.

Bucky ran his thumb along your jaw, leaning over the bed far enough for his lips to touch your skin. But they didn’t.

“You have no idea how much I wish that, too,” he whispered, but it sounded pained.

Why was he pained, you wondered? What had he done to cause so much remorse?

You didn’t want to dwell on the possibilities, to let yourself become more upset than you already were.

You couldn’t make this a big deal; nothing could be a big deal anymore, an event. How were you supposed to make him want to be home, be with you, if you caused problems?

Be calm. Be peace.

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist instead. “Maybe you’ll have a weekend off soon? We could go somewhere.”

Something fought behind his eyes. “I’ll let you know what I can do. Get some dates and see if they work out for you, okay, honey?”

Of course they would work out for you; all you did was sit at home and wait for him. He had insisted on as much when you got married, told you he was going to take care of you and held you as if you were the most precious thing in his life. You struggled to remember how that had felt; you strained to remember the feel of his hands on you.

“Okay, Buck, that sounds nice.”

You smiled, but his hand fell from your face. It trailed, for a moment, down the slope of your shoulder, and you shuddered and bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. His brows were furrowed, his eyes following the trail of his fingers. The small burst of red light from the restaurant sign across the street peaked through a gap in your curtains. It flashed on his collarbone.

You kicked your feet from the confines of the blankets, swiveled and shifted until your legs hung off the bed and slotted between both of his. There was a limit to your husband’s intimacy, and you were intent on soaking up every second of it—every second that his attention was on you.

The movement made his eyes snap to yours and then flit around the planes of your face. His hand was warm on your shoulder, palm encasing the breadth of it, making your skin tingle beneath the surface. You wanted to drag him closer, to make him kiss you for the first time in however long, but the only thing you could do was be still and feel his touch.

The gnawing feeling in your gut was odd, off-putting. To know you would do anything, forgive anything, for a man that thought of you fleetingly… it was embarrassing and fulfilling in a way that juxtaposed your being. Because you had never been this person, and yet, here you were.

You wanted to fill the silence with something other than the fan in the corner of the room. You opened your mouth just to close it, the small breath you released in between profound in the stifling room. The curtains shifted again, and it was then you realized you had been staring at the wall behind Bucky’s head, avoiding him. Avoiding the inevitable.

“Bucky…” you breathed, taking another moment before finding his gaze. But the name was lost the second you did.

Glossy—his eyes were glossy and wet and even in the darkness, with only the occasional restaurant light flashing along his chest, you could see the pool forming in his waterline. Panic struck you in an indescribable way; you knew this was coming, but you weren’t ready for it right now.

Because you loved him too much, and you were afraid you would forgive him. Afraid you would stay.

He opened his mouth and you felt yourself cave.

“I wish you would talk to me,” he said, all shaky and revering and halfway broken. “I won’t be mad, swear it.”

If it were cold, you’d be able to see your breath. “What?” you asked, because it didn’t make sense. Why would he be mad? Why would he have the right when you were the one that sat at home and watched cars pass on the street below.

Bucky moved his touch down to your elbow; along the bone that met your wrist and down to your pinky, the outside of your hand. He took a staggering breath, as if to keep himself steady and together and whole. You knew the sound well.

“I won’t be mad, I just wanna know how to fix it. What to do to make you come back to me.”

“To come back to you?” Your voice pitched off the edge of a cliff, flung headfirst into a lake of freezing cold water.

“I know I’m gone a lot,” he continued, blind to the confusion marring the softness of your face. The softness you always held for him. “I know they have me going on missions too much and disappearing to god knows where. That even when I’m state-side I’m still barely home. So I’m not… I’m not mad that you’re… that you—”

The words got caught in his throat, lost along with the rest of the conversation you didn’t know you were having. The bed sunk beneath your hands as you leaned back, blankets and sheets and heavy memories gripped between stiff fingers. You watched as Bucky ran a hand down his face, looked on as his bare feet stepped back and faded into plush carpet.

“I don’t—I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” you stuttered, relaying your confusion.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling. “Please, just tell me. Tell me who it is, at least.”

“Who?”

“Don't make me say it. I can’t say it.”

“Bucky,” you stressed, gaze narrowing at the sight of wet tracks down his face. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

You wanted to fix this, ached to, but there was also a nagging echo in your brain reminding you that it should be you struggling to catch your breath. You with wet cheeks and unintelligible words. That even though you would lose yourself in this man in front of you, he didn’t deserve to hurt like you did.

Until he spoke the words, “Tell me the name of the man you’re sleeping with,” and suddenly, life felt like shades of gray.

“The man I’m sleeping with,” you repeated, slow and dumbfounded. “I’m not…”

Bucky left the spot he had molded into the carpet and stepped to you, bringing your face up in his hands. They were soft, the type of delicate you remember from your wedding day, your birthday; from late nights after too many glasses of wine. His thumb ghosted your throat and you felt the tremor along your skin.

“Tell me,” he pleaded. “I just have to know that. You don’t gotta say anything else.”

“This isn’t funny,” you decided on, knocking his hands from your face. You pressed away from the bed and paced across the floor, arms covering your body to protect yourself and hide from his unfair words. “This isn’t some joke to me.”

“Believe me, I’m not laughing.”

Your neck craned as you looked over your shoulder at him. His posture was deflated and his hands held out in front of him as if he didn’t know where they belonged. His hair was out of place and his face fell toward the floor. This didn’t look like a man trying to pawn off his cruel actions, and you were then plagued by an even more harsh reality.

“Do you really think I’m having an affair? After… after all I’ve had to come to terms with because of you?” you asked, an uncharacteristic bite bleeding into your words. You didn’t mean to sound so angry.

Bucky’s face puckered into hurt, eyes quickly dragging to your face. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

You laughed, low and sardonic and breathy. “Maybe you forget that I have access to a television. And the internet. And that I sit at home for weeks at a time while you’re off ‘fighting the good fight’ and getting rewarded for it. Honestly, Bucky, do you think all of those dinners and banquets you go to don’t get publicized?”

“Y/n—”

“No, really, James—” you continued, feeling yourself slip. “—did you think I’d have no idea? That you could waltz in here and accuse me of something you’ve been doing for weeks and that I’d just take it? I mean, I know I put up with a lot, but this is just… this is just ridiculous.”

Bucky’s hands dropped. His mouth opened and closed far too many times for your liking, but you’d expected that. What was he supposed to say—how could he defend himself—when you laid it all out like that? You figured the image of his perfect wife was slipping, but, in all honesty, that ruse wasn’t something you could hold onto much longer, not with his frigid accusations.

“I would’ve preferred it if you just left me.”

That finally sent him into motion, his breath leaving him in one harsh gust and his back straightening as he very clearly spoke the word, “No.”

You went to scoff, to spit out some angry words about him finally acting like he cared, when his voice overpowered your own.

“I don’t know where our wires got crossed, but there has never been one moment where I’ve thought about another woman. No matter where I’ve been. You really think I’d throw away everything I’ve got with you for some girl at a dinner I didn’t even want to go to?”

“I’ve seen the pictures, I’m not stupid—”

He stepped forward, face inches from your own. “I know you’re not. And I didn’t think… God, I didn’t think for a second what that might look like to you. I know this might not mean much, but I don’t know who any of those women are. They all come up for pictures and I’m not supposed to say no for my image’s sake. But, sweetheart—please, look at me.”

Your gaze had tracked to the back wall, watching nothing in particular and letting your eyes unfocus because nothing was making sense. Bucky leaned down and craned his neck to catch your line of sight, not touching you, seemingly afraid to.

You bit the inside of your cheek, allowing him the small reprieve of you as you focused in on him.

“I’ve been goin’ crazy,” he began, fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. “You started pulling away, answering my calls less. But—fuck—y/n, I thought it was because you found someone else. I thought I’d lost you, but I’ve been too much of a coward to bring it up. I never thought it was because… I never figured it was because of something I’d done.”

The tips of his fingers skimmed the skin at your hips and you felt the goosebumps in their wake. He quickly rectified his intrusion, gripping your shirt tighter in his fist. He became watery in your view, tears filling your eyes and creating an ache at the base of your neck.

“You never said anything,” you croaked.

Bucky’s smile was sad. “I love you. If I could only have you during the small moments at night, when you leave that stupid old lamp on in the living room and say three words to me, I’d take it.”

It struck you then—the similarities between you. The pain he felt had been festering beneath far too many surfaces, all leading up to now as the dampness of his eyes glinted in the dark room. It was reciprocated in you, could be found with a hand-held mirror in just a quick glance, and yet, neither of you had noticed.

You both had expected the worst, and simply accepted it.

“Bucky,” you breathed. You grabbed for his waist and tugged him closer, feeling his haggard sigh along your cheek. “I thought it was you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

He pressed his forehead to your temple. A wetness met the high point of your cheek. “God, never. Never, sweetheart.” His hand ran across the back of your head. His lips flitted along your skin. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So have I.”

Bucky brought his other hand down to skim at your wedding ring, touch feather-light and unsure. When he found what he was looking for he tugged you closer, slotting your face into his neck and placing his chin atop your head.

“We’ve been bad at talking to each other, huh?” he pointed out.

“We have. I’m sorry, I should’ve tried harder.”

He shushed you. “It was both of us. We both should’ve tried harder, me especially. I made a vow to you and I’ve been doing a pretty shit job at keeping it. Even after all those words I wrote down on that hotel notepad.”

You laughed, the sound not as lackluster as before. It tapered off with the drone of the fan. “You haven’t held me like this in a while.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“All I’ve wanted is for you to hold me.”

The hand on your head tightened, going rigid as a sadness seeped into tendons. “I’m sorry, baby.”

It was silent after that. There was a bed, a couch, even the floor, and neither of you went to sit. The moment would break the second you parted, and there would be more talking. More apologies. More reasons behind curt conversations and lost opportunities for touch. No excuses though; there were no excuses for this. From either of you.

Bucky started to sway. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “You know, Steve woulda told you,” he finally broke the silence. “After he beat my ass, he woulda told you if something was going on. You’re family.”

“I thought he might not have known. He’s not the best at… that kind of stuff.”

Bucky huffed out a scoff. Some of the tension began to melt away. “Maybe when it comes to himself. But that guy has been in my business since the 1930s. He’d know.”

You felt a smile creep onto your lips, the first in a few days, at least. But more than that, you felt the rumble of your husband's voice through his chest. You pressed your face further into his body, chasing the feel and the sound of him.

He hummed. “Can you say it back?”

You almost missed the words with how soft they were. Dragging your head back, you kept your hold on his waist, refusing to fully leave. “Say what back?”

“That you love me.”

The twisting in your stomach was worse than anything you had felt these last few weeks. Worse than the first time he came home late after seeing the press pictures. Worse than the first time he didn’t kiss you before bed. Worse than weeks of silence.

“Of course I love you,” you affirmed, shaking your head in incredulity. “I love you so much. That’s why I’ve stayed.”

The kiss you shared was sticky from dried tears; rushed from prolonged confusion and desperate from so much time apart. Not physically, but there was so much you had let fizzle out. To kiss him—to feel his lips against yours, however uncoordinated they were—was like a revelation and a cure.

It was unfair that you had avoided this for so long. You fought for someone to blame, but no one came to mind, so instead, you focused on kissing him. And he seemed more than willing to return the favor.

You wouldn’t talk tonight, not about the important stuff. There would be time for that later.

No, tonight he held you. Tomorrow, you would talk.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst

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cumulo-stratus · 2 months

Note

Could you do a fic of a reader with chronic pain x Spencer Reid? Please just fluff and maybe angst but obviously it's totally up to you. I've been having a few flare ups recently and it sucks ass.

Maybe Spencer like low key just makes them rest all day even though they want to help out with a case?

Love your writing btw! :)

French press coffee[s.r]

Spencer insist you take a break despite your insistence

WARNINGS- mentions of chronic illness symptoms,

Spencer Reid x gn!reader ][ fluff/hurt comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- The reader is implied to have chronic fatigue, or something similar but let me know if anything is inaccurate!

1.3k

You couldn't hold back a grimace when you finally reached a standing position after much effort. The pain radiated through the rest of your body, making it hard to function, not to mention the fog blanketing your brain.

But before you could even think about how to deal with the flare up, you dreadedly remembered you had work today. Well you had work (almost) everyday.

This meant walking to the train station with spencer. Then taking the 45 minute train ride, with Spencer. And then you and Spencer could finally get to work, only to then fly to god knows where and profile serial killers.

You internally sighed. You were in for a long day. But you couldn't let Spencer know that- or he would make you stay home from work like the wonderful boyfriend he was.

So you instead crept quietly out the door, wincing when it cracked slightly. As soon as you slipped through the door your shoulders relaxed and you padded into the kitchen to start coffee.

Or at least you tried to, but you were slowed down by the intense ache radiating in waves. Usually the pain was bearable, of course with the help of your accommodations, at home and at work- but not today. When you finally made it to the kitchen counter, you grabbed the kettle and started boiling water for the necessary caffeine.

Just because Spencer will accept any coffee, doesn't mean he isn't the eensiest bit a coffee nerd. He especially had a sweet spot for French press coffee.

Spencer felt the first sip was just that much more satisfying when you had to work a little bit for it.

Despite his wet noodle type physicality, he still always pushed his whole weight down on the pump. He would feel it slowly sink under his gaze and he would smile slightly.

You smiled at this thought as you sank down into one of the chairs sitting around the kitchen table.

But the smile faded as soon as it had placed itself on your lips when your mind came back to the pain aching through your body and fog coating your mind.

The whistling of the kettle woke Spencer, his face scrunching up at the unpleasant noise. With the hope of finding the source and stopping it. When your sleepy boyfriend broached the kitchen, he found you slightly hunched over the kitchen table in a chair.

but when you heard Spencer come in you stayed hunched until Spencer called your name and you perked up, noticing the boiling pot.

Spencer noticed your expression flicker when you stood up, and took note of that and the fact that you didn't notice the kettle boiling at first. Spencer could read you like a book, and right then- you were saying you were in pain. Well Spencer had to read between the lines, but he was just as good at that.

“Good morning my love,” Spencer mumbled into your shoulder, as he had now wrapped his arms around your waist while you poured the steaming water into the large canister.

you just so conveniently turned around to greet spencer just before you got to the step of pushing down on the pump, spencer took a note of this as well.

“good morning” but this time the smile actually reached your eyes when you spoke, Spencer always brightening your mood. you even forgot the pain for a brief moment when he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your eyes easily drooping closed. But when he pulled away to finish the coffee, not commenting on your casual avoidance of the physical exertion portion of the process, reality came back harshly.

You took this opportunity to sit down, closing your eyes and sighing for a moment at being off your feet. Again, Spencer noted this to himself.

A couple minutes later, he approached you quietly, two mugs in hand. One was black with at least a couple tablespoons of sugar, and the other with just an average amount of cream and sugar.

Spencer pressed one into your eagerly awaiting hands, and the other onto the table while he put the coffee grounds away.

You could feel your boyfriend watching you carefully ever since he entered. Not only was he a profiler, but so were you. Although both of you knew he was watching, and the other knew, neither said anything. It was like an odd competition of who would bring it up first, you or him.

He won. “How's you feeling today?” Spencer spoke with a casual tone but the question held weight. the weight of the whole morning that had come before.

you smiled weakly as a response and shrugged, saying “ not too bad, i'll just bring my cane,” you tried to sound casual but Spencer could see right through you.

He threw a knowing look, his eyes holding empathy. You couldn't meet his gaze. “Angel-” Spencer couldn't get the rest of the sentence out before you interrupted firmly. “No- I'm going to work. We have cases, people need us.” You had a determined look on your face, you were always stubborn.

Spencer thought this to himself as his gaze softened, a sympathetic look creeping up. “Honey, you need to take care of yourself, it's okay to not go to work for one day. You'll be better help with the case when your not in pain and your more clear headed-”

You found it hard to argue, stuttering a bit before huffing and saying “but the team needs me…” your argument was meek, as you had essentially already accepted defeat.

Your disagreement made Spencer furrow his eyebrows, causing the familiar worry crease between the two form.

Though it was hard for Spencer to stay mad at you, especially when you looked so sweet like that. Sat at the kitchen table, a warm mug of coffee cupped between your hands, your hair a mess from sleep.

there was still a substantial amount of coffee left in your mug. You had forgotten it for arguing with your boyfriend.

Spencer Instead pushed himself up from his chair with a heave, making his way to you a couple steps away.

He reached out a hand. A compromise. You took it silently in surrender to Spencer's insistence. Although you didn't say anything Spencer could tell you were slightly embarrassed at needing to take a break.

He offered a small squeeze of your hand as reassurance, hoping to provide some comfort.

Spencer used his hold on your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. He left a chaste kiss on your lips and left you to get ready.

He instead used the time to call your boss and explain the situation. You could vaguely hear Spencer speaking to someone on the phone as you pulled out some of your (Spencer's) most well worn lounge wear.

“Hey Hotch, ya, ya- oh really- are you sure?” You could only hear Spencer's side of the conversation as you entered the living room with your cane in hand.

Spencer threw you a smile as you walked up to him, taking his cheek in your palm and placing a soft kiss.

Once Spencer hung up the phone, he explained that Hotch had told him that it was mostly a paperwork day. This meant Spencer could stay home with you all day(as the workaholic he was he always brought his paperwork home anyways).

Despite having woken up not more than an hour ago, you were ready to sink into the couch, resting your cane against the side.

You weren't really listening to what Spencer was saying very well as the fog was growing thick in your mind.

Spencer almost immediately noticed, and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you into his side.

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. Spencer placed one arm around your shoulder and used the other to work on some reports.

You spent most of the day in his arms, sleeping, or talking with your boyfriend. You tried doing some mission reports but your brain felt like sludge and your muscles ached.

But it wasn't as bad, because you had Spencer there with you.

The End

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shares-a-vest · 3 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 1: Love is... Letting someone take care of you (Prompt by @starryeyedjanai)

wc: 722 | Rated: G | tw: the ever-present possibility of Steve vomiting, migraines

Tags: Sick Fic, Steve Has a Migraine, Caregiver Eddie

Eddie makes his way down the hall, following the sounds of gross, loud and retching coughs, his pace quickening with each step.

Steve was supposed to meet him at the arcade an hour ago. Steve isn’t exactly the most punctual person (despite the guy always looking at his watch with a laboured sigh). He sleeps in more often than not.

But he’s never an hour late at 2 in the afternoon.

“Stevie?” he asks, just narrowly missing the doorframe as he practically spins into Steve’s bedroom.

He doesn’t wait for an answer and tiptoes towards the blanketed form that is spluttering gibberish like Steve is attempting to answer.

Eddie looks around the room, his hand hovering over Steve’s form.

The place looks about the same as usual – a little too clean for the bedroom of a twenty-year-old boy, curtains drawn like they were downstairs. Steve’s work clothes from yesterday are discarded on the floor...

Wait.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, rubbing the blanketed mass now.

The lump moves to reveal a muss of Steve’s hair, sticking on end, looking greasy and tangled at the back. Steve grumbles.

Eddie rounds the bed, hoping the other side will reveal Steve at least a little.

“So dizzy,” Steve mutters as soon as Eddie spots his flush, pained face in amongst his bedding.

His eyes roll back and close, a full-bodied grimace shaking the pile of bedding.

Eddie eases down and reaches to comb his fingers through Steve’s fringe, only to be hit with just how clammy his boyfriend is. He swoops back the sweat-caked hair, patting it down gently.

“Think I’m gonna… throw up,” Steve says clear as day and gulps.

And Eddie thinks this might be the first time he has ever seen someone’s face flush green.

“I’ll go get your bucket,” he says, earning a reedy whine in protest.

Steve doesn’t embarrass easily, but he does when it comes to his (sometimes vomit-inducing) migraines and the yellow bucket Claudia Henderson brought by after Spring Break and demanded he keep close by. It sits under the sink in the ensuite bathroom now.

Eddie makes quick work of retrieving the bucket, plus some tissues and a glass of water. There are more supplies he could do with, he thinks, but they’ll have to wait.

“Come on, Big Boy,” he says, tugging at the covers, “Time to sit up.”

Steve moves at a snail’s pace to get himself untangled from his cocoon and sit upright. The blankets eventually fall away to reveal a flush, bare chest.

“You naked under there?” Eddie teases.

“Clothes sting,” is all Steve says as he swings his legs around with a monumental effort to hang off the side of the bed.

“Feet on the carpet, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs, placing the bucket in his lap and spotting it with his own hands.

“I’s gross,” Steve mutters, head falling into the receptacle, his voice echoing in its (so far) emptiness, “Go... away.”

He sways a little as if those limited, broken words were too much. Eddie wraps his free hand around his boyfriend’s middle.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he begins, “And you are not gross. You need help. I’m here now.”

He soothes his hand up Steve’s back, feeling him relax a touch.

“O-okay,” Steve hiccups, a tear falling onto his cheek.

“I’m here to look after you,” Eddie reassures, his voice barely above a whisper, “And I’ll get you good enough that we can pack you up and get you over to my house. Sound good, hmm?”

Steve half-nods into his bucket before he looks up.

His eyes are glassy. Nose red. His fringe now sticking to his forehead. He looks like a wreck, unkempt and sweaty. Now only a pale, pink-tinged green.

But Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to his partner’s cheek anyway.

“Just think about your feet on the carpet, okay?” he whispers when he pulls back, “Your feet are planted on the ground – balanced, steady. Focus on that for a while. It’s okay if you throw up.”

Steve huffs and nods.

“‘Kay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve.”

Steve drops his head towards the bucket again and Eddie begins detangling at the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps after a long while of silence (and him not blowing chucks everywhere), “L-Love you.”

#yayyy love month is here #had to go for a sick fic first off #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddielovemonth #sick fic 🤧#steddie ficlet #tw vomit #tw vomiting

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m00nlight-ramblings · 5 months

Text

Happy to Help

Your first period after joining the companions is causing some serious problems for you. Gale is happy to help alleviate some of your pain.

Pairings: Gale x reader who gets a period (no romance)

Warnings: reader gets period, mention of blood and pain.

Word Count: 1.34k

Requested: yes

A/N: graphic created by me. I do not give permission for my work (both writing and graphic) to be used without my permission.

The pain in your stomach burned as you tried to steady your breathing, creating a small "o" with your mouth. Your hand kept laying against your stomach even though you knew you wouldn't get much relief from anything at the moment.

"Gods..." You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut. Your lower stomach lurched in a stab of pain, causing you to groan. Digging your heels into the bedding of your mattress, you tried to quiet your groan so that the rest of your companions wouldn't hear.

Of course, you thought glumly, the pain consuming your thoughts, Of course I'd get my period within the first few weeks of travelling with these new people, and of course it would be one of the worst ones I'd had in a while.

You knew it would have arrived sooner or later, but you were really hoping for the later option. Well...in all honesty, you were kind of hoping that your period would just disappear somehow now that you were on the most important mission of your life, but that was neither here nor there. Having your period was annoying enough when you were in the comforts of your home in Baldur's Gate, where you could properly rest with the right elixirs and cures. But now that travelling and fighting and rations were involved? Gods, cleaning the rags was enough of a hassle, never mind trying to push the shooting pain away while invading a goblin camp.

Straining against the blankets you wrapped in, you scrunched your face to try and (fruitlessly) ease the pain. The water you had dipped your cloth in to lay on your stomach had turned cold, and you didn't feel like exuding any of the little effort you had left to try and heat it up again at the fire.

Suddenly, there was a rapping on your tent flap. Gently you called, "Come in", but stayed laying on your bedding. Gale strode inside your tent, dressed in his nightwear. He tied your tent flap closed and awkwardly stood near the entrance.

"Hello. I wanted to come check on you," He said, his hands clasped behind his back. He took a step towards you, a soft smile on his face, "I know you're in pain-"

"Suffering," You corrected him, allowing yourself to be fully over-dramatic because fucking hells having your period was awful, "Not just in pain, I'm suffering."

"Sure, yes, suffering..." Gale's cheeks turned pink, "Well...I know that you are suffering, so I wanted to check on you. Can I get you anything? Admittedly, I obviously know nothing of the pain that menstruation can cause, but if I can help aid you in any way, I would be more than happy to help." He eventually ended up sitting on the stool next to your cot, gently resting one of his hands on mine. Your stomach lurched again and without thinking you grabbed his hand, squeezing it so hard you watched his fingers turn purple. He grimaced, but didn't make a sound.

"If you could rip my uterus out, that would be great." You spoke through gritted teeth, breathing heavily.

Gale chuckled lightly while shaking his head. He reached out to touch the water bowl by your cot, "Gods, this water is freezing. Here," With much struggle he ripped his hand from your death grip and hovered it over the water. He murmured a few words under his breath and suddenly the water started to steam, "Where is your rag?"

Silently, you nodded your head towards the rag on the trunk next to your bed. You closed your eyes again as you heard Gale take the rag and dip it in the water. He gently moved your hand away from your stomach and lifted your sleep shirt up and you felt the heat of the rag lay across your stomach. Breathing a sigh of relief, you opened your eyes again to look at Gale.

"Thank you," You spoke quietly, trying to offer a smile, "And...sorry for basically breaking your fingers."

He chuckled again and worked to spread the cloth across the entirety of your bloated stomach, "What is a little pain if I know I'm helping?"

"Do you speak so poetically as a way to let everyone know you're smart?" You asked, happy to feel some relief for the first time in an hour.

Gale's eyebrows shot up, "But...I am smart."

"We know."

"My fondness of poetry bleeds into my real life, I will admit," He said, leaning back a bit, "I cannot help if my tongue is practiced in more ways than one."

"Well now you're just bragging."

Gale laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling. Looking at you, his laugh subsided, but his smile remained. "I must say, I am very happy you decided to pull me out of that portal. Not just because you saved my life, but also because it is nice having you around camp. Your humor is a stark contrast to the doom and gloom that Lae'zel and Shadowheart tend to bring."

"When I'm no squeezing the hells out of your hands, you mean." You joked. Suddenly, pain seized your stomach again and you winced, groaning. Gale sighed and gently pressed the warm rag on your stomach.

"Well, if this is the worst that you bring to camp, I'll take it. You can't help what your body subjects you to," He removed the cloth and put his hand on your stomach, "If you'll allow me, I may be of some assistance-"

"Yes. Gods, yes. Whatever kind of magic you're about to do on my body to stop this, please do." You interrupted him, eyes wide. He nodded.

"Now, I must warn you, this is only temporary, so please don't think that I can completely...end this suffering. But, I'll do what I can!" He clapped his hands, rubbing them together. You nodded as you watched Gale close his eyes, eventually placing his hands on your stomach again.

As Gale spoke his incantation, a magical hum spread throughout the tent, and a dull light sprouted from his palms. Though the pain didn't subside, you felt a tingling sensation where his hands lay, and the strange sensation caused you to close your eyes. Suddenly, as quick as it started, it was over, and you waited.

There was no pain.

Absolutely none.

"Gale..." You said, cautiously sitting up, "Gods, you're a miracle worker! I don't feel anything!" You smiled and couldn't help but wrap your arms around him, squeezing him tight, "Thank you! Oh, thank you!"

Gale chuckled and pulled back, nodding, "Like I said, it's only temporary...but it should be enough relief for you to get some sleep. No need to thank me - I'm more than happy to do it." He stood up slowly from the stool and noticed the basket full of your soiled rags in the corner, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will be taking those to the river to wash."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I'm pain-free now, so I can do it. Besides, it's my blood, and-"

Gale put up a hand to silence you, "Absolutely not. You-" He poked in-between your chest with a quick finger, "Need to rest. I may not know everything about this, but I know it takes quite a lot out of you. And we need our best ranger to be in tip-top shape. Besides," He moved towards the small basket, picking it up and resting it on his hip, "A little blood never scared me. Now...get back in bed. I will bring these back to you tomorrow. See you in the morning."

You stood watching him as he gave one final smile and left your tent. Happily - and gratefully - you flopped back down into your cot, sighing contently. Finally, some relief! You fell to sleep quickly due to the exhaustion, the smile staying on your face until the early hours of the morning.

At the creek that surrounded the camp, as he washed your rags, Gale's smile matched yours, happy to help.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale headcanons #gale oneshot #gale headcanon #gale fan fiction #baldurs gate 3 #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios #gale x tav

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cupid-styles · 6 months

Text

my favorite person

in which harry is a werewolf and he just wants to fit in with y/n and her human friends, but it's a little harder than he anticipated.

word count: 2k

content warnings: werewolf harry, smut (subby h, cum play, slight humiliation and tiny bit of impact play, dirty talk, a lil bit of dumbification)

masterlist | talk to me

fall/halloween blurb list

. . .

"Harry, you're being... werewolf-y."

"No I'm not."

Y/N turns her head to glare at him, her eyes darting down to the collar of his tee-shirt currently wedged between his teeth. She plucks at the fabric and yanks it down and out of his mouth, a quiet whine immediately sounding from his lips.

"Humans at parties don't chew on their shirts." she reminds him, lifting her cup to take a sip of... whatever Halloween-themed concoction Lena and Remi had thrown together.

"It's actually your shirt," he mutters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"You're acting like a puppy." she fires back, leaning back against the couch just as Lena walks — or stumbles, really — over in her pirate costume.

"Harry, you're here!" Lena exclaims drunkenly, plopping down between the two. Y/N grimaces internally; it's not actually because one of her closest friends is at a sloppy level of drunkness that can only be achieved on Halloween, but because Harry is still attempting to acclimate to human social interactions. And so far, it's been painful.

"Y/N said you were coming but we didn't actually know if you'd show," she continues, slurring her words slightly, "We've always felt there's something off—"

"Lena!" Y/N yelps, grabbing her hand from her lap and giving it a squeeze, directing her attention to her, "Did Claire make it? I know you wanted to try and make a move tonight."

"Oh my god, that's right!"

Y/N takes that as a yes as she pops back up, clumsy on her legs, but nonetheless makes it out of the living room lightning fast. She lets out the breath she'd been holding, only to see that Harry is worrying his bottom lip between his fingers.

"Babe, don't take it personally, she's wasted." she says, scooting back over so their thighs are pressed together.

"Your friends think I'm weird."

Her heart cracks in two and she quickly shakes her head, lowering her cup to the floor so her hands are free. She wraps her arms around Harry's broad shoulders, holding him tightly even if he's pretending not to be keen on physical touch right now.

(In reality, he always is; he's constantly pawing at her and whining about cuddles, wrapping himself up in her warm blankets when she's not around. She's never asked if it's a werewolf thing or a Harry thing, but she knows he adores being loved on more than the average person.)

"They don't think you're weird." she murmurs into his ear, pressing a kiss to his hair, "And even if they did, who cares?"

"I do," Harry insists with watery eyes, a pout on his face, "I'm trying to get better at blending in and you're the most important person to me and— well, they don't like me, and that matters."

She sighs, but she understands. She lets go of him but intertwines their fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze.

"I know it's frustrating, but trust me when I say being a human is difficult," she says softly, "It's probably ten times harder pretending to be one."

Besides his pack, Y/N is the only person that knows about Harry's true form. Oddly, she had taken it all quite well, especially considering he confessed only a few months after meeting.

(Harry had enrolled at her university, which is apparently something werewolves in their pack do — it's some reasoning about them wanting to keep people safe, but also it helped them better blend into society. They sat next to each other in a lecture and normally, Y/N isn't interested in interacting with her fellow peers, but in classic Harry fashion, he broke her down bit by bit with questions about the homework and what she'd done over the weekend. Before she even knew it, he was sitting in her living room, wrapped up in her blankets, eating the soup she'd made specially for him.)

But obviously, not everyone is like Y/N, and it isn't a lie to say that many of their peers are confused by Harry. He is very clingy with Y/N so people think they're dating, which isn't too far off from the truth — they've hooked up a few times and kiss and cuddle, but it's a weird gray area that neither of them attempt to approach. His eyes changed color frequently, he has an affinity for nosing at Y/N's neck when he's tired even if they're in public, and, because his time is split up between pretending to be a college student and dealing with whatever werewolf things he did when he's away from Y/N, he doesn't know much about pop culture or current events.

(One time, Y/N and Remi were talking about the new Olivia Rodrigo album and Harry quietly tugged at her sleeve and asked Y/N who they were talking about.)

So, yeah. He kind of stuck out like a sore thumb. But Y/N really likes all the things that make him him, and it makes her sad to see him down on himself just because not everyone gets him.

"D'you wanna go back to mine?" Y/N murmurs, their joined hands placed firmly in Harry's lap. "We can order from that pizza place you like and watch Teen Wolf. I know you love making fun of it."

He blushes (he always does whenever she mentions details about him that only she knows) and nods. It makes Y/N smile as she stands from the couch, reaching her hands out to pull him up.

"I adore you, you know," she says, looking up at him with the most sincerest of expressions, "I think you're really, really great, just as you are."

His heart feels like it might burst out of his chest so he just leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. And because he's Harry, all he's able to muster out is, "I would never be this great without you."

. . .

When they get back to Y/N's place, she notices that Harry is being clingier than usual.

She doesn't necessarily mind it, and she can partially assume how his headspace arrived to that point. In the times that they've slept together, she was surprised to realize that he teeters on being the more submissive one in their dynamic. She figured given his whole... werewolf thing, he would have some deep primal urges to dominant her, but instead, it always seems as though he just wants to be loved on and taken care of.

And really, when he crawls onto her couch, into the spot that she always snuggles herself into after a long day, and nuzzles his face into her favorite blanket, who is she to deny him?

So Y/N slips her shoes off and sits down in front of him, pushing her knees into the plushy carpet beneath her and swipes her thumb over his cheek.

"You okay?" she asks softly, to which he simply shrugs his shoulders. Gently, she climbs up onto the couch and wiggles her body behind his, a confused humph leaving his mouth as she maneuvers their position. With her back flush against the couch, she moves Harry so his back leans up against her chest, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as she spreads her legs out around his hips. Harry has longer limbs than she does and there's a height difference between them, but with a little extra effort, she's able to reach out to spread his thighs apart.

"Lemme take care of you, pup," she murmurs into his ear, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of his pants to shimmy them down. He moves pliantly, allowing her to do as she wishes in his typical quiet way. "You know you did so good today, right?"

"Not really," Harry grumbles, "You're just saying that 'cos you don't want me to cry."

"Of course I don't want you to cry." Y/N replies easily, pushing his briefs down to reveal his already hard cock, "But I wouldn't lie to you, and you know that."

Again, he shrugs, and Y/N ignores the immediate urge to gently smack the inside of his thighs.

"Don't be bratty. I'm trying to make you feel good."

"I'm not being bratty."

She sighs and removes her hands from his hips, "Do you want me to touch you or not, Harry?"

A beat. And then, "Yes, please."

Wordlessly, she takes his prick into her palm, giving it a squeeze as her other hand winds its way back around to his face.

"Spit." she says simply.

"Do you have a humiliation kink?" Harry fires back, making her roll her eyes.

"No, but I know you do," she replies, squeezing his cock again, "Spit or I'm done here."

This time, he does as she asks, submissively drooling saliva into her hand. It makes her smirk as she slowly begins to pump his now-lubricated length in slack movements.

She can feel him becoming restless in the way that he starts to buck his hips to meet her strokes, steadily becoming desperate for more. She uses her other hand to move down to his balls, rolling them between her fingers, his chest vibrating with a gurgled groan.

"There you go, baby," Y/N coos into his ear, speeding her slick movements over his cock, "Such a pitiful little pup, aren't you? Just rutting into my hands like this?"

He moans again and it makes her smile, taking his earlobe between her teeth and biting at it gently. He winces at the brief sting, another lengthy whimper falling from his lips when she tugs at his balls.

"You're such a sweetheart, letting me take care of you like this," she purrs, focusing her slick passes to the flushed tip of his prick, "Silly puppy. All you needed was a handjob from me to calm you down?"

Harry nods quickly, his head bobbing up and down before he leans back completely, letting it lull against her shoulder. She loves seeing him like this, completely void of his worries and responsibilities, just focusing on the pleasure she's giving him. If she's honest, it's an ego boost for her, watching someone as physically strong as Harry melt at the doing of her hands.

"Ask for permission before you cum," she murmurs when she feels his muscles tense.

"Please?" he gasps out, his dull nails digging into the skin of his thighs, "Please, I need to— fuck, please I'm gonna—"

She removes her hand from his cock, placing a quick smack to his inner thigh, "That's not how you ask."

"Please let me cum," he mewls, his legs shaking when she returns back to slick passes over the length of his prick. "Please, please, can I cum? Please—"

"Cum."

He swears he's never heard such a wonderful word before and it's only a few more pumps of her wrist before he's coming, thick ropes drooling over her fist and to the base of his pelvis. He's cursing, eyes shut, and she holds him tightly as his muscles contract violently beneath her touch, shushing him softly as he comes down from the intensity of his orgasm.

"Oh my god," he pants, bucking his hips as a silent plea for her to halt her movements. She does, knowing he always gets sensitive after coming. As he recovers, she lifts her cum-covered fingers up to his mouth, plucking his bottom lip open.

"Lick," she instructs, waiting for him to drop his jaw open. He does and she places her fingers on his tongue, shivering as he sucks greedily. "Good job, puppy. Such a cum whore."

He groans, his skin flushed from a confusing mix of embarrassment and pleasure, and she smirks.

"You don't ever leave any for me. Always so greedy to taste yourself," she murmurs, withdrawing her fingers when he's finished sucking on them. Lazily, he shimmies his briefs back up and flips onto his tummy, leaning up to catch her lips in a kiss. She squeaks in surprise but doesn't question it, welcoming the way his tongue readily licks into her mouth. He's always especially needy after they do things together, even if he's just spent 45 minutes making out with her pussy. She pretends it doesn't affect her, but in reality, it's one of her favorite traits of his.

When he's finally tired himself out, all traces of his orgasm gone and his breathing relaxes, he snuggles into her side. Smiling, she reaches out to run her fingers through his messy hair.

"You're my favorite person," Harry mumbles dreamily, "I hope you know that."

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