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jungkoode · 1 month ago

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死 KKANGPAE | #17 死

† bedroom confessions †

“His real name is the most dangerous thing he’s ever given you.”

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⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7.5k

rating: explicit (18+)

content: first time in jeon’s bedroom, real name revelation, sexual tension finally exploding, dirty talk that’ll make you blush, spanking kink discovery, emotional walls starting to crack, post-sex vulnerability, and lines being crossed that can never be uncrossed.

Kiki Nation’s discussion thread for this chapter.

☠ author's note ☠

Y’ALL I’M DECEASED. Just casually writing 7.5k of filth like it’s nothing. Who even am I at this point? My laptop is judging me, my FBI agent is traumatized, and I haven’t made eye contact with my roommate in three days.

So… that happened. Jungkook finally shared his real name AND his bed, and honestly? The power that man holds when he’s being all dominant and teasing is absolutely CRIMINAL. I had to take several water breaks while writing this chapter because WHEW. Is it hot in here or is it just me? (¬‿¬)

The fact that Jungkook’s idea of aftercare is literally “wanna stay connected all night?” has me HOLLERING. Sir, that is NOT how this works—but also it’s so perfectly HIM. Our emotionally stunted sniper boy doesn’t know how to process feelings unless they’re shooting through a rifle scope.

And Y/N with the attitude even DURING sex? A queen behavior. Standing ovation for not becoming a complete puddle the second he touched her (though let’s be real, it was close).

Let’s also talk about how they can’t stop BANTERING even post-orgasm. These two idiots calling it “charity work” when they’re both equally obsessed with each other? THE DELUSION. I love them so much it physically hurts my face.

I know I promised slow burn but uh… Listen. LISTEN. It’s an EMOTIONALLLL slow burn. The fuck buddies tag is there for a reason. Sometimes characters just take over and you have to let them bang it out, you know? It’s for their mental health or whatever.

Don’t get too comfortable though! We all know what happens in this universe when people get too happy… the universe (aka me, their cruel god) decides to throw a wrench in everything. ⌒(o＾▽＾o)ノ

Next chapter will give us a little morning-after situation and maybe even some actual plot development if I can stop writing smut for five seconds!

Love ya, trauma vultures! Keep those comments coming, they fuel my sleep-deprived writing sessions!

xoxo 💋

P.S. Also, for the hate comment I deleted 5 seconds after it was posted (you tried though)… here's an even longer author's note, since yk, like you said, nobody reads them… More for me to yap without consequences, I guess.

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You're in Jeon's room.

Jeon's fucking room.

When he'd texted you to come to the shooting range earlier, you'd figured it was just another one of his typical late-night training sessions.

But now? Now you're here, on his bed , with him standing over you like he’s already decided you’re his next target.

Like you’re already dead and just haven’t figured it out yet.

Okay, maybe a tiny part of you had hoped for this. (Shut up , horny brain.)

But you'd only agreed to be fuck buddies like, what, some hours ago?

And here you are already, sprawled across his sheets, heart hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape.

Talk about moving fast.

Except it isn't simple. Not when you're already spread out across his bed like you fucking live here. Not when your heart's kicking like a scared rabbit in your chest.

Your fingers curl into his sheets on reflex. Satin. Dark. Smells like pine and something sharper—pine. Him. God, that should not do things to you but it does.

You fight the dumb grin twitching at the corner of your mouth.

Because here's the thing.

He's just as gone for it.

Jeon's staring down at you like he hasn't eaten in days. Dark eyes locked on you like you're dinner and dessert and every guilty pleasure combined. There's no hesitation. No second-guessing. No going slow. Just that razor-focused, dangerous glint he always gets before pulling the trigger on a mark.

And Jesus Christ, you're the mark.

Your breath catches.

That stormy energy of his? It's fucking alive. Wrapping around you. Crawling over your skin. You feel it. You taste it. Static in the air—sharp, biting, almost buzzing in your goddamn teeth.

His fingers graze your thigh and oh.

That's nice. Really nice.

But before you can really enjoy it, he pulls his hand away. Plants it on the mattress by your head, making the bed creak under his weight.

You snap your head up in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Your voice cracks. Great. Love that for you.

But then his other hand comes up—slides along your jaw like he owns you. Fingers rough. Callused. Deadly. And all you can do is stare like a fucking idiot as his thumb presses against your bottom lip. Tugging. Testing.

You go pliant before you even process it. Lips parting on instinct.

His mouth opens just a little—like he's picturing it. Like he wants to taste you. Swallow you whole.

And goddamn it, you want that too.

So bad it hurts.

Is he imagining what it'd be like to kiss you? 'Cause you sure as hell are.

"You sure you can handle the kind of tension relief I'm talking about?" he asks, voice low and gravelly.

You almost laugh. As if you haven't been thinking about this exact scenario for weeks.

"Guess you'll have to show me so I can decide, huh?"

That does it.

He moves. Fast.

You barely register it before he's already there—mouth crashing into yours like he's starving. Teeth. Tongue. Fucking warzone.

There's no slow build-up. No teasing. Just pure, raw take.

Your breath punches out of you as you grab for him. Instinct. Desperation. Your fingers slip into his hair—damp, messy, soft as hell. You tug. Hard.

He groans into your mouth. Loud. Deep. Way too fucking hot. It rips down your spine like lightning.

You bite his lip just to feel him suck in air through his teeth. God, that sound—that sound—shoots straight to your core. Your legs twitch under him, thighs pressing together, trying to ease the ache.

It doesn't work. Makes it worse.

Jeon doesn't let you off easy either. He dives back in. Deeper this time. Tongue claiming, swallowing every shaky breath you give him like he owns them now.

His body shifts—presses down harder—pinning you to the mattress without saying a single word. Your back arches up like a fucking reflex. Can't help it.

And then, just as fast, he pulls back.

Forehead against yours. Breath ragged. Lips slick and swollen.

His chest rises and falls like he just ran a mile.

You're no better. Gasping. Throat dry. Pulse wrecked.

"We doing this?" he asks.

Not really a question. He knows. You both know. Still—he waits.

And maybe it's stupid how much that makes your throat go tight.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yes."

One word. That's all it takes for Jeon's eyes to darken further.

His mouth finds yours again, but only for a moment. Then he's moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. When his teeth graze below your ear, a small gasp leaves your throat.

Fuck.

The sound does something to him. You can tell by the way his fingers dig into your hip, how his breath comes out just a bit harsher against your skin.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers spread wide like he's trying to touch as much of you as possible. The shirt bunches up with the movement.

More skin exposed to the cool air of his room. More of you for him to explore.

You can barely breathe right. Every inhale is shallow, desperate. A whine builds in your throat, needy and embarrassing, but you're too far gone to care. You want more. More of his hands on you, more of his mouth, more of the way he's practically caging you in with his body.

He makes this sound—low and satisfied, almost like a growl—that has heat pooling between your legs.

"Jeon," you breathe out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.

"Jungkook," he corrects, voice rough with want. "My real name is Jungkook. Say it like that again."

Your breath catches. Using real names in Kkangpae isn't something you take lightly. It's intimate. Personal. A sign of trust that goes beyond the physical.

"Jungkook," you say again, louder this time. Testing how it feels on your tongue.

The way his eyes darken tells you everything you need to know about how it sounds to him.

He growls—actually growls, okay paw patrol?—at that, like your voice saying his name is doing things to him. Like he can't get enough of it.

God. The way he's looking at you right now.

"Turn over for me," he murmurs like a command, but there's something patient in his voice. "I need to see that ass."

Your whole body feels like jelly as you move. The mattress dips beneath you, and fuck—you realize how exposed you are right now, laid out for him like this. How vulnerable.

How wanted.

"Ass up, sunshine," he says, voice raspy.

You push yourself up on your elbows, lifting your hips. The position makes you feel s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, but it also feels slightly intoxicating, being on display like this, knowing exactly what it's doing to him.

The sharp intake of his breath is worth it.

His hands hover over you for a moment—those same hands that can take a life from a mile away with a sniper rifle now ghosting across your skin. The anticipation has your stomach in knots, has you fighting the urge to push back against him.

When he finally touches you, it's almost reverent. Like he's mapping out territory he plans to claim.

"Fuck," he breathes out; and the way he says it—like a prayer, like worship—makes your face burn. "You have no idea what your ass does to me."

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, kneading with the kind of expertise that makes you wonder h̶o̶w̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ if he's thought about this before.

You have to press your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds trying to escape your throat.

Because if you start, you're not sure you'll be able to stop.

He takes his time, methodical in a way that's driving you insane. His thumbs spread you open, then let you fall back together. His hands work their way, massaging and squeezing. The heat under your skin builds until you feel like you might combust. Like you might actually catch fire right here in his bed.

"Such a perfect ass," he groans, and then—oh—his lips are pressing against one cheek, then the other. Soft kisses that feel somehow filthier than anything else he's done. "Fucking beautiful."

The praise hits different when it's coming from him. When it's Jungkook—cold, distant, perfectionist Jungkook—telling you how perfect you are.

When he pulls back, the loss of contact hits different. Like someone just yanked a warm blanket off you.

"I want to try something," he says, and okay, when his voice sounds like that you'd say yes to almost anything he'd say.

"Yeah?" Your voice is breathy, but at this point you're too curious (too turned on) to give a single fuck.

His hand traces up your spine, gentle in a way that doesn't match how intensely he's staring at you. The contrast makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"I want to spank that gorgeous ass of yours."

It comes out like a confession, like he's been thinking about this for a while. There's a question mark hanging at the end of it though, waiting for your permission.

Oh.

Something hot and electric zips through you at the suggestion. Your brain staggers for a second, but your body's already made up its mind. You're nodding before you can even process what this means.

"Let's do it," you say, maybe too eagerly, but the thought of his hand coming down on your ass has lit something up inside you that you didn't even know was there.

"Remember our safe word?"

Even in the middle of this is, he's making sure you're both on the same page.

"Black tape," you confirm immediately.

Having that word there, knowing you can use it anytime—it's like a safety net. Makes everything else feel okay.

"Good."

He positions himself behind you again, and the anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you crazy. His hand hovers over your skin, making you feel every inch of exposed flesh.

Then, the first spank lands.

It's almost gentle—like he's testing the waters, seeing how you'll react.

The sound it makes in the quiet room has your face burning.

Sharp. Clean. Loud.

Your skin blooms with heat where his palm connected, and fuck—it's not exactly painful, but it sends this electric feeling through your whole body that has you gasping. The sting melts into something warmer, spreading under your skin until you feel like you're floating.

Your face burns.

And... It's not from pain.

Obviously, he's watching you like a hawk, trying to read your reaction. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy and intense.

"How was that?" His voice comes out rough, like he's the one who just got spanked.

You have to take a second to remember how words work.

"Good," you manage to get out, barely above a whisper. "Really good."

He gives you time to process, to just feel it. Then his palm is back on your ass, but this time he's not spanking. He's just... touching. Soothing the heated skin with gentle strokes that somehow feel more intimate than the spank itself.

It's messing with your head—how he can switch from rough to gentle so fast. One second he's spanking you, the next he's treating you like you're made of glass.

The air feels exactly like right before a storm hits.

Jungkook's presence behind you is overwhelming in the best way, and when his hand moves away, you actually have to bite back a whine.

Every second he makes you wait feels like torture. You arch your back a little, trying to be s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ subtle about asking for more. You can't see his face, but you know he's smirking.

You've seen that look enough times to picture it perfectly—that cocky little quirk of his lips, the way his eyes get all dark and intense.

"Ready for another?" he asks, voice gone all gravelly; and it shouldn't be hot, but it is.

Your heart's going crazy in your chest when you nod. "Yes."

Waiting has has your skin tingling, has you holding your breath without even meaning to.

You can feel him shifting behind you, the mattress dipping as he draws his arm back.

When his palm connects this time, it's not a question—it's a statement.

The smack echoes off the walls, louder than before, and holy shit.

"Fuck," you gasp out.

It stings more this time, sharp and intense, but in a way that makes everything feel unfairly good.

"How does that feel?" His words drip with arousal, but there's still that undercurrent of concern.

Always checking, always making sure.

"Nice," you hear yourself say, and you're surprised by how eager you sound. Like you can't get enough. "Keep going."

There's a pause, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"As you wish," he finally says, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smirking.

He pulls back again, and like the asshole he is, he makes you wait a little bit.

Not for long though, because clearly, the fucker is enjoying this too.

When the third spank lands, it's like a lightning bolt straight to your core. It's stronger, more controlled, and the pleasure that rips through you is so intense it steals your breath.

You cry out—not from pain, but from how good it feels.

How it makes your whole body sing.

This time, his hand stays put. You can feel the heat of his palm against your stinging skin, and it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

"Beautiful," he breathes out, like you're some kind of work of art.

You hadn't pegged Jungkook as the type to be into this kind of thing. But the way his breath catches, the slight tremor in his hand as it rests on your ass—it's like he's discovering something about himself right along with you.

Maybe it's a spanking thing. Or maybe it's just a you thing.

Or your ass thing.

Either way, the realization that you're affecting him this much?

Heady. Bargaining material.

His fingers start tracing patterns on your heated skin, soothing the sting. Again with the contrast, from the spanking to this. Like he's not quite sure himself where he stands.

"You okay?"

You nod into the pillow, not trusting your voice right now.

Because how do you tell someone that you're more than okay? That you're floating on some kind of pleasure high you didn't even know existed?

And honestly, this whole situation is simply making it hard to think straight.

But then, Jungkook moves, slowly, creates some distance and—oh?

A soft thud. His towel hitting the floor.

He steps closer once more, bare skin against yours, and it's hot. He's hot. His skin is hot.

His body is all hard lines pressed up against your softer curves, and when his cock presses against your panties, you actually have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

You push back against him without thinking.

S̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ Needy.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he makes this sound you can't quite classify.

The raw want in his voice does things to you. But before you can even think of responding, his hand comes down on your ass again.

Hard.

The sound echoes through his room, and you can't help the moan that slips out.

(Anyone walking past his door would definitely hear that one.)

"Tell me you felt that," he demands.

"I felt it," you manage to get out between breaths. "I felt all of it."

Then his free hand wraps around your waist, fingers spreading wide like he's trying to conquer as much of your body as possible. He pulls you closer, and god—you can feel every inch of his cock pressed against you through the thin fabric of your panties.

The contrast between his rough skin and the smooth material is driving you insane.

"You want more?"

He's trying to sound teasing, but you can hear how affected he is. His voice is multiple octaves deeper than his usual 'whatever' tone.

"Yeah." Your voice comes out wrecked. "Don't stop."

He laughs—this low, dangerous sound that makes your toes curl. "God, I love how eager you are."

His hand comes down hard—harder than before—and the sound echoes through his room like a gunshot. You can't help the groan that rips from your throat. It's embarrassingly loud, but who cares at this point?

The sting burns hot across your skin, sharp and biting, sinking deeper until it melts into that aching pulse you can’t get enough of. You can feel exactly where his palm landed, the heat of it sinking deep into your flesh.

"Christ, you take it so well," he says, and his fingers dig into the spot he just spanked, pressure making you bite your lip. "I can see the shape of my hand on your ass, turning red. It's fucking sexy."

You're breathing like you just ran a marathon, each exhale coming out kind of whiny and desperate. Your brain’s mush. All you can register is his hands and the heat of him grinding against you.

"Jungkook, please." The way you say his name is straight-up pathetic, way too needy.

You push back against him, wanting to feel him without these stupid panties in the way.

His fingers trail down your spine, so slow it’s infuriating. They dance over the curve of your ass before playing with the edge of your underwear. When his fingers finally hook into the fabric, you freeze, chest tightening as he pulls the fabric aside.

Your face is pressed into his mattress, ass up in the air like some kind of offering. You should feel exposed, but something about it just feels right.

"You're already so wet for me..." You can hear the smirk in his voice. What an asshole. "How can I resist?"

But he does resist, the bastard.

His touch goes all gentle, fingers just barely exploring your folds like he's got all the time in the world. Like he's trying to memorize every little detail—how wet you are, how warm, the way you can't help but tremble.

He then makes this approving sound deep in his throat and you've had enough.

"Jungkook," you whine, dragging out his name like some kind of desperate prayer. "Stop teasing."

"But I want to watch you squirm," he says, and fuck—you can tell he means it.

He wants to see you fall apart, wants to watch you beg.

What a bitch.

His sadistic little game only gets worse when you complain. You can feel his finger right there, barely touching where you need him most, just collecting evidence of how embarrassingly wet you are. The anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you insane as he slides that finger up and down, parting you without actually giving you what you want. Using your own arousal to make the glide easier.

You try to push back against him, to get his finger inside you—anything. But his other hand is pressed firm against your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Jesus Christ, just fuck me already," you can't help but groan, frustrated.

But Jungkook—because he's a bastard—just keeps playing his little game.

"I'll fuck you when you're ready to break from wanting it so bad," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

He loves it.

His finger circles your entrance, the touch so light it's actually torture. Every time he passes over that spot, you clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you.

When he finally pushes just the tip of his finger in, you actually sigh out loud—half relief, half frustration. Your whole body's shaking with how bad you need more, but he keeps holding back. Adding pressure so slowly it should be illegal, pushing in just to pull back out again.

He's drawing this out just because he can, the power-tripping dickhead.

The pressure builds just a tiny bit as he shows you the smallest amount of mercy, sliding that one finger in entirely so slow you think you might actually lose your mind.

It's not enough—nowhere near enough—and he knows it.

You want him to stop being so careful, to just take what you're offering.

Despite how frustrated you are (or maybe because of it), you can't help but smirk.

"What, you got no condoms this time either?"

The words come out all breathy between your gritted teeth—and honestly? Not your brightest idea, bringing up that particular memory from the tent.

The response is immediate—his hand comes down hard on your ass, sting spreading across your skin like wildfire.

"Aw, what the fuck—?"

You yelp, caught between the sharp pain and how embarrassingly turned on it makes you feel—like your body can't decide if it wants to flinch away or push back for more.

"You should know better than to sass me right now."

Then his hand is smoothing over the spot he just spanked, gentle in a way that feels almost worse than the hit itself.

"You're such an asshole," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it.

You both know you don't mean it, not when you're bent over his bed with his finger inside you.

"Mhm, but you fucking love it, don't you?"

He says it like it's just a fact. Like the sky is blue, water is wet, and you get off on him being a dick.

(The worst part is he's not wrong.)

You can't help but grown more impatient when you feel his ring finger press up against your entrance, right next to where his middle finger is already buried inside you. He pauses there, just letting you feel the pressure.

"For fuck's sake, just do it." Your voice cracks embarrassingly, giving away just how bad you want it.

He laughs, low and rough. "Patience, I want you to feel every single inch."

Can he die? Genuinely.

Then the pressure builds as he starts working his ring finger in alongside the other one. He's being so fucking methodical about it, pushing deeper into you at a pace that's making you lose your mind.

Every inch feels like it takes forever.

"You feel so fucking tight, you sure you can handle both?"

The teasing note in his voice makes you want to bite him. He already knows the answer, the smug bastard.

"I can take more than you can give," you get out between breaths, because fuck him.

And it's meant to be cocky, but it comes out sounding more desperate than anything.

"We'll see about that."

His fingers stop moving for a second—just long enough to make you whine—before he starts pushing in even slower. Like he's trying to make you feel every single movement, every stretch, every slide.

And at this point your body's on fucking fire. But can you be to blame, when he's been nothing but an infuriating tease?

Little pleading sounds keep escaping your throat without permission. You're practically chanting 'please's as you try to push back against his hand. But he's got you pinned, keeping that torturously slow pace.

"Fucking... jerk," you mutter—because he absolutely is.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I am."

When both his fingers finally—finally—bottom out inside you, you actually gasp. Your body clenches around them greedily, trying to get any kind of movement, and the grunt he lets out sounds s̶e̶x̶y̶ pleased.

"Tell me how much you want it."

It's not a request. His voice has that edge to it that makes it very clear.

"I want it more than my next breath." The words tumble out raw and honest.

"Good girl," he says, and even though it's rough around the edges, the praise makes you stutter.

His fingers curl inside you, making you moan embarrassingly loud. Then the bastard just... stops. Stays completely still, letting you feel exactly how deep his fingers are, how they're stretching you open.

You're actually going to lose your mind if he doesn't start moving soon. But you refuse to beg—you won't give him the satisfaction.

"I think listening to you beg is my new favorite sound," he says, like he can read your thoughts.

"Fuck off—" The words die in your throat when his fingers pull back just a tiny bit before pushing deep again, and yup, the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pathetic.

"You're driving me insane," you tell him, trying to sound angry.

"That's the idea." He says, but it's all dark and pleased. "I want you out of your mind with need, so when I finally give you what you're begging for, you'll remember who put you there."

Fuck.

His fingers are still buried deep inside you, not moving, and you can feel every single knuckle. It's like a preview of what's coming later—a promise that this is just the start, and he's planning to take his sweet time getting there.

The seconds drag by like hours. You're stuck in this weird space between pleasure and frustration, where his fingers feel so good but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough. The heat of his body against yours isn't helping either. Having him this close but not getting what you want is actually torture.

"Are you planning on moving anytime this century?"

And yeah. It sounds bitchy.

Exactly how you want it.

"In due time."

You can barely breathe right, desperation clawing at your throat. Then—oh—his finger brushes against your clit, so light you almost think you imagined it. Your hips jerk without permission, chasing that barely-there touch.

"Jungkook," you warn, half-growl, half-whine.

He chuckles. "No patience at all, huh?"

"Just fucking touch me already." The snark in your voice is falling apart, giving way to pure need.

"Ahh, I love it when you get all feisty."

You open your mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove that smugness, but then his finger is back on your clit.

Just ghosting over it, barely any pressure at all.

But your whole body lights up anyway, every nerve ending suddenly wide awake.

"This is torture," you accuse, though the breathiness in your voice kind of ruins the effect.

"Not torture. Appreciation." He hums. "I'm just enjoying all those pretty sounds you make. The way you shake. How desperate you get."

Bastard.

His finger starts moving in slow circles around your clit, adding just a tiny bit more pressure. It's enough to make your back arch, trying to get more friction, but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough.

"Please," you whine, past caring how needy you sound. "Just—a little harder, please, Jungkook."

He gives you what you asked for—barely.

Just a fraction more pressure, but combined with his fingers still buried inside you, it's enough to make your body clench around him.

He's got you trapped between pleasure and frustration, keeping you right on that edge.

"This what you want?" he asks, mocking. "This pace good for you, hmm?"

You know exactly what he's doing—getting off on your impatience, on how desperate he can make you with just his fingers and that stubborn w̶i̶l̶l̶p̶o̶w̶e̶r̶ control of his.

The pressure on your clit keeps changing, going from barely-there touches that make you want to scream to just enough to have you chasing more.

"Jungkook, I fucking swear—"

The words die in your throat when his finger suddenly presses harder.

"What?" His voice drops even lower, hitting that dangerous note that usually means he's about to stop playing nice. "What exactly are you swearing?"

"That I'll rip your fucking hair out if you don't stop messing around." You have to grit your teeth to get the words out, trying to sound threatening even though you're literally shaking with need.

He laughs—this deep, dark sound that vibrates through you—and rewards your threat with a firm stroke that has heat coiling in your stomach.

"That's not very nice," he says, but he sounds more amused than anything. Like your empty threats are entertaining him.

His finger goes back to those slow, torturous circles around your clit. Each pass builds the pressure a little more, but it's never quite enough to get you there.

The most f̶u̶c̶k̶e̶d̶ messed up part? You're kind of into it.

This whole power play thing you've got going—how you push and he pulls, how you threaten and he teases.

It's addictive.

Because in truth, there is something powerful about knowing you can make Jeon Jungkook, Kkangpae's perfect soldier, want to hear you say his name.

Suddenly his whole rhythm changes.

No more of that torturously slow pace—his fingers start moving with actual purpose, curling inside you in a way that has your toes curling. Like he's finally done playing around and just wants to make you genuinely cum.

Hallelujah.

The sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up filthy. You have to press your face into the mattress to muffle it, which only makes you more aware of how heavily you're breathing, each gasp basically fucking advertising how good his fingers feel.

"Come on, sunshine," he teases. "You don't have to be quiet. These walls are soundproof."

But you just press your face harder into the mattress.

It's become a matter of pride now—you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing exactly what he's doing to you.

You're right there, so close you can taste it—

And then the fucker stops.

A pathetic whimper leaves your throat as you squirm beneath him, feeling weirdly empty. The loss of sensation has you actually wanting to cry.

When you turn your head to glare at him, he's got this insufferably satisfied look on his face.

He reaches over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer like he's got all the time in the world. The foil packet he holds up catches the light, and the victorious look he gives you makes you want to bite him.

"See, I do have condoms this time, you smart mouth." The smirk on his face should be illegal.

"Oh wow, look who's being a semi-functional adult for once." You narrow your eyes at him."Want a fucking gold star or something?"

He laughs whilst tearing the foil packet and for some reason, it is weirdly hot—how focused he looks while rolling the condom on.

"Maybe after this you'll want to give me one," he says, still sounding way too amused.

He settles back on his knees, raising an eyebrow at you like he's waiting for something. You huff, pretending to be all put out even though you're literally dying from how bad you want him. When you press your cheek against his cool sheets again, you make sure to arch your back just right.

You know exactly what that view does to him.

Feeling extra b̶r̶a̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, you wiggle your hips a little. Just a tiny movement, but it's basically saying 'come and get it' without words.

And bingo.

His hand comes down on your ass hard—but despite that, you feel weirdly victorious.

Then he's right there, lining himself up.

His tip brushes against your entrance, teasing to the point of madness, because at this point you just want him inside already.

You bite down on the sheets, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg again. But your body's giving you away anyway—the way you're trembling, how desperately you're trying to push back against him.

He takes his sweet time, just watching you. His eyes trail down your spine to where his handprints are probably turning your ass red.

After what feels like forever, he finally pushes in, one smooth stroke that rips the air from your lungs.

And it's impossible to muffle yourself; even with your face squashed against the mattress, when he bottoms out completely.

You feel every single inch of him, filling you up so completely it's genuinely insane. And he just stays there, buried deep inside you.

"So fucking tight," he growls, sound vibrating through you, making your toes curl.

Your body moves on its own, pushing back against him, desperate for more. You need him to move, need that relentless pace you know he can give you. But the bastard just holds you there, completely still, making you feel every single detail of how he's splitting you open.

His fingers dig into your hips—not hard enough to leave marks (yet), but firm enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. And the slight bite of pain just adds to the pleasure, kind of welcome honestly.

When he finally pulls back, you almost whine at the loss—but then he slams back in, hard and deep, and your brain melts. Everything gets kind of blurry after that.

Your skin feels like it's on fire everywhere he touches. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through his room (thank god these walls are actually soundproof), getting louder with each thrust. His pace is brutal, punishing, but it's exactly what you've been dying for.

"That's it, take all of it."

And there's just this thing in how he says it—that has you pushing back against him like you're desperate for it.

(Maybe you are.)

Every thrust feels like getting hit by a natural disaster; like a fucking hurricane. It's hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except how he's driving you into the mattress.

He's fucking you like he's got something to prove, hips snapping forward so hard it's just obscene, has you clutching at his sheets like they're the only thing keeping you grounded.

Then his hand slides underneath you, looking for your clit. Like he knows exactly what you need without you voicing it out.

The second he finds it and starts rubbing circles against it, electricity zips through your whole body. It's almost too much, the dual sensation of his cock stretching you open and his fingers working your clit.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you moan, and you barely recognize your own voice. "Don't stop."

He lets out this grunt that gets lost in the sound of him pounding into you.

But he listens, thank god, keeping up that relentless pace with both his cock and his fingers.

It's not gentle. He's fucking you like he wants to break you, like he wants to hear every embarrassing sound he can wring out of your throat.

"Just like that, sunshine," he pants. "Fucking take it."

Each thrust builds something wild inside you, like being caught in the eye of a hurricane. The pressure coils tighter and tighter until you think you might actually lose your mind. Everything feels too much and not enough all at once.

Your senses go into overdrive—the obscene sound of skin hitting skin, the heavy scent of sex filling his room, the salt of sweat on your tongue. You're drowning in pleasure, and Jungkook's the one holding you under with his relentless pace.

Then it hits.

The orgasm crashes through you in waves, drawing these embarrassingly loud sounds from your throat—whimpers, growls, straight-up begging. Your body clamps down around his cock like it's trying to keep him there forever, fingers still working your clit through it all. Pleasure zips through every nerve ending until you can barely breathe.

"Jungkook—" His name rips from your throat when you come, sounding absolutely wrecked.

The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts.

He falters for just a second before picking the pace back up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're seeing stars. Each stroke sets off these little aftershocks that have you questioning your sanity. His groans get louder, deeper, mixing with the sounds you can't help but make.

Every thrust hits exactly where you need it, precise and commanding in that way only he can manage.

You can feel how tense he is, how close he is to losing it.

His breathing comes out all rough and uneven, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave marks, using the grip to pull you back onto his cock like he can't get deep enough.

It's feral, is what it is— how he's moving now—like he's completely lost in it, chasing his own pleasure.

"Shit, I'm close," he groans against your neck, chest pressed tight against your back, skin burning everywhere you touch.

Then he goes rigid as it hits him.

You can feel every twitch of his cock, every pulse as he fills the condom.

He makes this plethora of sounds—deep, rough groans combined with some high pitched ones; all stripped away until he's just raw need and pleasure.

"Ah— fuck—"

Every curse that falls from his lips sounds snatched from him, desperate.

His hips stutter against yours, losing his rhythm as he rides it all out. His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, holding you still while he falls apart. Each thrust gets slower, like he's trying to make it last.

When he starts coming down from it, his hands go gentle where they were rough before.

He's still panting hard against your neck, little aftershocks making his cock twitch inside you. His heart's hammering so hard you can feel it against your back.

Jungkook collapses against your back, his legs apparently giving out after how hard he just came. His chest is slick with sweat where it presses against you, and his breath fans hot across your neck. He's still buried inside you, cock softening but still making you feel so full.

The sound he makes—this low, satisfied groan—is almost cute. Like a big cat after a good meal.

The afterglow starts to settle, leaving this heavy kind of quiet between you. Your breathing starts evening out, going from desperate gasping to something more normal.

You both just... stay there for a minute, too worn out to move.

Then he just... drops his full weight on you. Like his arms finally give out or something.

The heat of his body wraps around you completely, and maybe it'd be nice if he wasn't crushing your lungs.

His whole body is radiating exhaustion, and yeah—you get it. That was intense.

"Jeon, move... you're heavy," you grunt into his pillow.

Your voice comes out all rough from how loud you were being earlier.

"Give me a second," he mumbles against your skin, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. "You can't expect me to move after fucking you like that."

He sounds half-joking, half-serious, nuzzling into your neck like he's planning to just stay there forever.

You can't help but laugh at that. Something about seeing Kkangpae's perfect soldier brought down by an orgasm is kind of hilarious.

You shove at his side, trying to get him to budge.

He doesn't move an inch, the bastard.

Instead, he has the audacity to suggest something so wild it's weirdly very him.

"How 'bout we fall asleep just like this, me still inside you?" His voice comes out all lazy and satisfied.

You can tell he's half-joking, but there's this note in his voice that says he's actually considering it.

You reach back to smack him, caught between being annoyed and kind of endeared by how shameless he is.

"Fat chance, thundercloud," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it.

He laughs—this deep, warm sound that tells you he's smiling even though you can't see his face.

But you really can't breathe with him crushing you, so you push at him again, harder this time. "Seriously, off. You're heavy as fuck."

He makes this exaggerated groan like you're asking him to run a marathon or something, but finally rolls off you and onto his side.

His cock slips out (and fuck, that's a weird feeling), and then he sprawls out next to you, throwing one arm over his face as he catches his breath.

The sight of him like this—all tatted up and muscled, skin still kind of shiny with sweat—is doing things to your brain that you really don't want to examine too closely.

After a few more deep breaths, he sits up with this little sigh like moving is the worst thing ever. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he deals with the condom.

There's something almost gentle about how he handles it, which is kind of funny considering how rough he w being just a minute ago. He ties it off and tosses it in the trash with this practiced little flick that says he's definitely done this before.

"So, you wanna cuddle?" The teasing in his voice is obvious.

It's a callback to your conversation earlier, when you were both pretending this was just going to be sleeping.

"Seems like I'm not the one wanting to cuddle after all," you shoot back, matching his tone.

Jungkook gives you that smug little grin.

"Just doing some charity work," he says, voice all teasing and challenging, daring you to argue.

You can't help but scoff. The audacity of this man.

"Charity work? Please. If anyone's being charitable here, it's me."

He laughs—this deep, satisfied sound that fills his room. "Ha. Don't act like you didn't enjoy that just as much as I did."

Well. He's got you there, but you're not about to admit it out loud. Not when he's being this smug about it.

You tilt your head, feeling a crooked smile tug at your lips. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess we'll never know."

He shifts closer to you, and fuck—even after everything you just did, your body still reacts to his proximity.

"Maybe I need to fuck you again to find out," he says, voice dropping low enough to make heat pool in your stomach.

"Oh? You sure you can handle another round, tough guy?"

The smirk he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"Sunshine, I've got stamina for days." He says it like he's joking, but something tells you he's not exaggerating.

"For days, huh?" You raise an eyebrow. "Someone's confident."

"Because I know you," he says softly, words ghosting across your skin.

That makes you pause.

Know you?

He doesn't know you any more than you know him.

Sure, your bodies seem to speak the same language—the way you fit together, how you respond to each other's touch.

But that's all this is.

All it can be.

Nothing more complicated than pure physical attraction.

But you don't feel like getting into that right now. Not when you're both still riding the high of what just happened.

"Tempting," you say instead, drawing the word out. "But we've got a long night ahead, and I'd rather spend it actually sleeping."

He narrows his eyes at you, looking way too pleased with himself.

"My bed seems to be the only place you're actually honest," he says, and how does he always have a comeback ready?

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Was that supposed to be a compliment, Jeon? Getting soft on me already?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says, putting on this fake serious face. "Can't have you thinking I actually enjoy your company or something."

"Oh, please. Soft is literally the last word I'd use to describe you." You can't help but smirk at the double meaning.

A yawn catches you off guard—not because you're tired (okay, maybe a little), but because you're actually kind of... comfortable?

Weird.

"Anyway, time for sleep. That's what we said we'd do, remember?

He literally snorts. "Sleep? After what we just did? You're fucking with me."

"Not anymore, I'm not," you shoot back, and the look on his face is actually priceless.

"Come on," he tries again. "Round two? I promise it'll be worth staying up for."

But you're already settling into his stupidly comfortable bed. "Nope. Some of us need actual sleep, thundercloud."

"Fine," he sighs, all dramatic about it. "But just so we're clear—this isn't me giving up. It's a tactical retreat."

You actually snort at that. "A tactical retreat? Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yeah, well." He pulls the covers up, finally accepting defeat. "Pushy ain't sexy."

You both settle comfortably in the quietness of his room.

And you can't help but ponder.

It's weird how easy this feels—being here with him, joking around after what you just did.

Like you're not just teammates or gang members or even fuck buddies.

That thought's definitely more scary than it should be.

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phantasm-ae · 2 months ago

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Okay but like… i saw this pic around my fyp and I can’t help but imagine getting Ghost a bunny solely because it looks like him JSJSJSKSKSJSJSK

Anyways, heres a drabble on that

cw: suggestive smut, p in v, afab readerxghost, oral (f receiving), slight fluff

Headcanon: getting fwb Ghost a bunny that looks like him

Pairing: Ghostxreader

something something giving Simon a bunny because it looks like him.

Not planned. Not scheduled. But honestly, when is it ever with him anyway?

You'd just gone out for groceries. That was the plan. Grab milk, maybe eggs, more of that tea he practically scarfed down when he took over the place. God he just went through your fridge didn't he?

But you can't really get mad can you? Insufferable bastard that he was. Worming his way through your own life without permission.

Without favor.

No pursuit.

No accommodations just forced entry.

And now. Apparently. Into your arms in the form of one very large -- Jesus look at the size of that thing! -- and very pissed off rabbit. Heavy too. Solid. All hulk and muscle in a way that rabbits really shouldn't be. Like a furry little brick of war crimes and unresolved trauma. Yep. That's Simon.

You're 90% sure he even growled at the shelter worker when they tried to put him back in his carrier. The weighty plastic mauled and gnawed on. Too tiny. Too small. Too kind to accommodate a creature like that. Yep. That's Simon

"you sure you want him lass? Got kittens in here and puppies if you want", the shelter worker had said. Looking at you concerned and weary. Probably worried that you were in and out of your knocker with this one. Toeing the line between worry and are you mentally stable enough for this?

But you were already shoving bits of cash across the counter. Attention fully taken by the brooding thing with a warm and knowing smile

"Yeah", you'd said, watching the rabbit try to murder a carrot with a slow, surgical malice. "This one"

Now here you are, hours later, spent, sated. Filled, and panting in your bed. Sheets tangled. Skin still humming with Simon half-on top of you. Blanket of muscle strewn across your waist. Half buried in the pillow beside your head because "missed you birdie. needed you yeah? gone without you so long"

And of course you were dumb-dumb but not dumb-dumb... right?

So you'd believed him.

let him.

Welcomed him.

let him strip you bear and lay you down the kitchen counter. Sopping. Crying. Panting and whining while he buried his face to the nines down your core. Cold marble against fevered skin. Your shirt bunched up on your waist, baring your pebbled tits in view, while his hands practically muscled and gripped their way onto your thighs.

Held. Palmed. Clawed. Prisoned.

You were sure the indents and bruises on your inner thighs were moments where he lost accidentally lost control. Never having intentionally hurt you. Never capable. Never wanting to.

Slurping and sucking on the folds of your labia and clit like it was a personal mission between his mouth and your pussy alone. Sacred. Cleric on an altar. Groaning like he'd been starved for too long.

Stranded.

Parched.

And now, nirvana was between your legs

There was no gentle easing. Never really is whenever SImon got like this. God did you love it though. Just full assault. Tongue. Lips. Teeth. Mean. Overstimulation be damned

"cute this way yeah birdie? cunt practically pulsin' for me"

He liked the tears. Liked the tremble. Liked the way your body tried to escape even as it begged him not to stop. Because who was Simon if he didn't enjoy making his little bird scream and quiver underneath his touch.

You came once, and he didn’t even pause -- just gripped your thighs tighter, thumbs bruising into soft flesh, and kept going. Like your orgasm was an agreement. Like your moans were consent to ruin. By the time he finally rose -- chin soaked, mouth swollen, eyes dark and shining with something unspoken -- he carried you into his arms. Dizzy.

Wrecked.

Whining and whimpering incoherently.

Shaky.

Newborn fawn.

Fresh kill being hauled into your bedroom where he proceeded to manhandle you onto the bed -- face down, ass up, a position that felt less like suggestion and more like claim.

You barely had time to gasp, to find your breath between the heat and blur of it all, before he was behind you again -- pressing his weight over your back, one big hand flat between your shoulder blades, holding you down.

Like you’d run. Like you could.

“Still twitchin’,” he muttered, voice dark, ruined. A low hum against the shell of your ear as he ground his cock between your cheeks, already hard. “Didn’t get enough, huh?”

You whimpered, a sound punched out of your throat that didn’t sound like a yes or a no -- just need.

And he knew. Of course he did.

Because Simon always knew.

And now, he’s still draped over you like a weighted blanket with intimacy issues. Breathing soft and even. Sated and spent. Seed dripping down your thighs and sheets. Mission accomplished. The heat of his skin soaking into yours. A hand resting over your belly, thumb stroking there absently, like he's grounding himself. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

Which is exactly why you decide now is the time.

You shift a little, enough to get his hand to loosen. Enough to twist beneath him with a grin you know he can feel more than see.

“You asleep?”

He grunts.

Close enough.

You press a kiss to his cheek, lips skimming the edge of that jaw he rarely lets you near. “Got you something.”

Another grunt. More wary this time. His body tenses a hair, but you’re already slipping out from under him, ignoring the way your legs shake as you pull on his shirt -- it’s long enough to cover most of the carnage -- and pad toward the corner of the room.

The carrier’s still there. Heavy. Silent. Ominous.

Trying not to wince as you notice a growing dent and another hole at the side. Freshly mauled and gnawed. God you hope he doesn't eat anything important here.

You kneel beside it, unlatch the door, and wait.

There’s a pause.

And then: the slow, deliberate thump of massive paws as the creature waddles and hops out.

Surveys the room

Tactical.

observant.

Calculating. Fucking perfect

Immediately starts chewing the corner of Simon’s boots like it owes him money. Simon -- still half-asleep, still blissed-out and boneless -- blinks once, slow and confused. Sits up just enough to see over the covers.

“What the fuck is that?”

You grin. “Your emotional support rabbit.”

A long pause.

The rabbit, undeterred, begins gnawing at a strap. You think it’s almost... judgmental.

Simon stares. “Big bloke. Looks like it wants to kill me.”

You shrug. “That’s why I got him. Seemed fitting.”

Simon’s quiet again. Processing.

Then he leans back on the pillow, one arm flung over his eyes.

“Course you did.”

Another pause. The rabbit finishes murdering the boot and hops onto the foot of the bed. Heavy. Menacing.

“...What’s it called?”

You try not to laugh. “Didn’t name him yet. Figured you’d want to.”

The rabbit growls. Growls.

Simon groans. “You’re not right in the head, birdie.”

You grin and climb back into bed, curling into his side, watching as the rabbit hops up between you both like it owns the place.

“Neither are you,” you whisper into his shoulder, already smiling.

“He just needs a little space. And maybe therapy.”

Simon folds his arms. “Does it bark?”

“It’s a rabbit.”

“Still not convinced.”

Silence, thick and suspicious.

The hulking mass of the bunny flops onto its side without warning. A resounding thump thump follows as its weight meets the slightly dusted carpets of your floors.

Limbs stretched out, as if to say I’ve decided this rug belongs to me now.

Simon stares. The bunny stares. Something probably ancient passes between them.

“I don’t want it.”

“Didn’t ask if you did.”

“He’s not living here.”

“He’s not here for you.”

Another long pause.

“…You named it after me, didn’t you?”

You bite back a grin. Yes “He named himself.”

Simon exhales, a long-suffering sound muffled by the pillow. The rabbit twitches an ear, unimpressed. The two of them -- standing-off like old soldiers in a temporary ceasefire.

You plop a box of greens on the counter. “Just don’t feed him anything weird.”

Simon, muttering: “'should’ve stayed deployed.”

You, grinning: “You’re welcome, by the way.”

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carpenterswife · 1 year ago

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HALF OF ME (iv)

SUMMARY: With Soldier Boy alive in the 2020’s, back in America, he starts his mission of vengeance. Of course, his first stop is to you; the only woman he’d truly wanted to start a relationship with, who’d taken his spot only months after his supposed death. And you don’t exactly expect your old lover to appear in your home, with the intent to kill.

WORD COUNT: 2238

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Typical Soldier Boy behaviour, gore, heavy violence, canon divergence.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Finding you was difficult. They were beginning to think Ben had been wrong, that you were six foot under in some unlabelled grave, rotting away. But, Ben was sure. And arguing with him seemed like signing their death warrant.

So, they kept searching. Despite the fact they could have located at least two other Payback members, and had them dead, by now, Ben was insistent on killing you first.

So, they kept fucking searching.

And then they found it.

It was a tiny discrepancy. Something most people would simply brush past. But, Hughie found it, and it was all they needed. They followed the rabbit hole, down and down, finding hidden documents and details not even Ben knew about.

It only took two days to pinpoint your location.

The Appalachian Mountains. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Smack-bang in the middle of one of the largest forests in the entire USA. But, to Ben, that fact was whatever. He had your location. And he was going to find you, even if it meant spending weeks searching every inch of that forest.

Butcher and Hughie knew it was a dumb idea.

But, they got Ben in a car, and started their roadtrip.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

The quiet life was nice, you’d decided. You’d forgotten about Queen Maeve’s uninvited visit, going back to your routine of feeding the animals and drinking coffee on the balcony every morning.

It was weird. You used to be one of the most famous people on the planet. There was blood staining every inch of your hands, and families who were likely still trying to gain justice for the people you killed. You had decades of history. And, yet, you now lived out your days as some sort of Disney princess.

You couldn’t complain. It was better than willingly running into gunfire every week.

Padding through your dark home, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the floors, you headed for the kitchen. You were never too old for a midnight snack. Especially in the comfort of your own home. You turned into the kitchen.

And you saw it. A dark figure, shadowed in the corner.

But, you kept moving, playing oblivious. In your mind, your old training make itself own. Ben’s critiques and advice played like a movie, as you pulled the cabinet open, standing high on your toes to reach for packet of chips. Your senses were on fire, focused in on the quiet breaths, the soft squeaking of boots on the tile.

They moved, and so did you.

You ducked under the fist swinging towards your face, snatching a knife from the block beside the fridge. Holding it tightly in your fist, your stance ready to attack, you looked at the intruder. Every muscle in your body froze.

“Ben?”

He didn’t pull his punches. Ben grabbed you by the throat, using your momentary distraction to his advantage, shoving your back against the sharp edge of the counter. Instinctively, you swiped the knife towards him, but a rough hand caught your wrist, slamming it down onto the counter.

A cry of pain slipped past your lips, fingers releasing the knife. It was his turn to grab it, tossing it from your reach.

No words were spoken, just heavy breathing.

You’d never seen Ben look at you like this before. This look was reserved for those who got on the wrong side of him. Those who disappeared mysteriously overnight and were never found again — but you knew what happened. And so did he.

He was here to kill you.

“Ben—“ You choked out, through the tightening grip his hand had around your throat. The grip tightened, and your breath caught with a squeak, broken gasps for air trying desperately to pull in oxygen.

“How much did they pay you?” He demanded, his voice low and gravelly. “Huh? How much, did they fucking pay you?” There was something about him that was so different. A new edge to him, maybe. But, what caught your attention, was the look in his eyes.

Hurt. He was staring at you like you’d ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it.

You clawed at his wrist, unable to bring any air into your lungs. Your nails bit into his skin, the scratches down his wrist quickly repairing themselves. He let you go. Not out of mercy. No. He grabbed your collar, lifting your head up, and then slamming it down onto the counter.

Your vision went completely white, all remaining breath knocked from your lungs with a gasp. Blinking desperately to clear the stars, you tried to struggle. But, he slammed you down again. And again. And again. Until he tossed you to the floor like nothing more than a rag doll.

The counter was cracked from the force of it, blood staining the white marble, and splattered across the counter. Your own kitchen. Stained with your blood. You could feel the warm liquid dripping down the back of your head, matting in your hair.

If you weren’t a supe, you’d be dead.

He didn’t let you get a word in, brutal with each of his attacks. As you desperately tried to scramble away, body on fire, he put his foot down on your ankle. Leaning down, staring intently at you, with dark eyes, Ben snarled. “How much?”

“Ben—“ Finally, words escaped. In a pathetic whimper that made his lips twitch in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your breath hitched with pain.

That answer wasn’t good enough for him. You swore you could feel the bones in your jaw crack, as his fist met your cheek. You cried out in pain, the force of the impact whipping you around, hitting your head against the ground.

His hand curled into your hair, forcing your eyes on him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you bitch.” Your breaths were ragged, with pain and terror, staring up at the man you thought was dead. He seethed, nothing but anger and disgust (and hurt?) in his green eyes. “You whored yourself out to me, huh? Put my dick in your mouth? For what? Fuckin’ soften me up like a weak pussy?”

“Ben—“

“Don’t.” He tugged your hair, hard. “I loved you.” His teeth grit together.

Your heart broke, tears in your eyes as you stared up at him. He loved you. And he thought you’d hurt him? He was dead. He was dead. That’s what they said. They said he was dead. Your mind worked at 100 miles an hour, heart constricting.

He loved you.

Soldier Boy loved you.

You didn’t even think he was capable of that. Sure, you knew you had something special with him, something unique. But love? It’d never crossed your mind. You’d always loved him somewhat, always throwing yourself in front of bullets and danger to protect him. Always following his lead and teasing him.

Always pushing your luck with his temper. Because he never snapped. He never hurt you. He never hit you. You knew you’d loved him, when your heart would dance when he chuckled at your jokes. The way your body reacted to his hands on your hips during your first training session. You knew there was something. But, for sure, you thought it was one-sided.

That, to him, you were a good fuck. Just a hole, as he liked to say about some women.

But, you’d been so wrong. And, all this time, 37 years, he’d been alive. And you’d done nothing.

“I loved you.” He repeated, in a broken seethe. His eyes were less angry now, but still held that hint of vengeance. “I would’ve died for you.” You could’ve sobbed, right there. “We were gonna start a family.”

Your voice was shaky. “Ben. Please. I don’t know what’s going on.” You begged, pathetic and weak. Ben scoffed, emotional. “I thought you were dead. I swear it, Ben!” It was practically a plea; a desperate cry for him to believe you.

He was too blinded by his rage. “I waited every day for you.” He hissed, reaching over and grabbing his discarded shield. “For you to come and get me. To save me. You never came.”

“Ben—“

He shoved you down, head slamming against tile once more. Knees on other side of your hips, Ben gripped the edge of his shield, raising it high.

He was going to kill you. You couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t fight it. All you could do was look at him, tears running tracks through the blood on your face. A silent plea, begging him to not do this.

He rose the shield higher, lined up with the juncture of your throat.

And then he saw it. A glint of metal peeking out from under your shirt. He could recognise them from a mile away. They were his, after all. His dog tags, sat delicately just above your chest, resting on the skin like they were made to be there. His brows furrowed, movements faltering.

His dog tags. You were wearing his dog tags.

Ben hesitated, unsure.

He looked down at you, meeting your teary eyes, and his brain ran wild. Of memories of being a couple. Of the memories of when a big question mark had hung above your relationship, neither of you sure of what was going on, but treating each other like lovers anyway.

Your soft touches; the way your fingers would trace the contours of his muscles in the morning. The way you’d kiss each of his scars, muttering against his skin how perfect he was, despite the flaws and the imperfections littering his body. How gentle you were. He’d never felt a gentle touch before you.

How you’d giggle at his jokes, smile blinding, pretty dimples, cheeks flushed.

God, and those eyes. How they’d shine and shimmer when you looked up at him, like he was made of the stars themselves. He always used to melt when you propped your chin on his chest in bed, looking at him with that cute smile, and he’d trace your face with his thumb, cradling your cheeks like delicate glass.

Those few nights spent together, in the limited time you’d had together as an actual couple. The way you’d move together; perfectly in sync, like you were made for each other.

The way you’d hold him. Laugh with him. Smile at him. The passing touches. The lingering stares across red carpets and events, subtly checking each other out, and then meeting up in the supply closet. The quiet moments together, cooking dinner or merely holding each other. All those times you forced him to dance, and he’d begrudgingly spin you in the kitchen. The dates, and the movie nights, and the silly fights, and how warm his cold penthouse felt when you were with him.

Every memory, every moment, replayed in front of his eyes, as he stared at you. He lost his breath, muscles stiff. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring this shield down and kill you. His chest ached and burnt.

He couldn’t kill you.

So, instead, he hit the blunt edge of shield against your head, and watched your eyes roll back.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Coming to was disorientating and painful.

Every inch of your body ached, from the beating you’d received from Ben. You cringed as the light made the throbbing in your head intensify. Through squinted eyes, you made out the sight in front of you.

You were in your dining room. And there were two… unfamiliar men stood by your table, leaning over files and papers. Movement caught your attention.

Ben. Setting his shield down by the table.

“Ben.” You choked out, instinctively trying to reach out and grab him. To check if he was real. If he was actually stood in front you. Living, breathing. Your hands didn’t move. You looked down, frowning at the sight of tattered rope tying your wrists of the arms of your chair.

The noise drew over the attention of the three men. They exchanged a silent look, and slowly, and rather intimidatingly, approached. You whined a little, at the throbbing pain that made a tremble run it’s course through your body.

One of the unfamiliar men pulled up a chair. “What d’ya know abou’ BCL-RED?” Was that an English or Australian accent? You couldn’t tell through the buzzing in your ears.

“Wha’?” You slurred, blinking rapidly, trying to orientate yourself. “BCL-what-now?” A grunt slipped past your lips. They didn’t look impressed by that answer. “I— I saw it on a file. Back in ‘84. Never figured out what it meant.”

The man learnt forwards. “Neva’ found out?”

Your head shook, and it made the pain increase. Your face scrunched up in agony. “Mm, no.” You groaned, breaths hitched. “It was all classified. Edgar never told me. Mallory and I— we tried to figure it out.”

“Grace Mallory?”

“What? Yes. Grace.” You groaned again. “Jesus. Can you turn off the fucking lights? It feels like there’s a drill in my head.” You tried to push your face into your shoulder, hiding from the light that made your eyes burn and your head feel like Ben was slamming it against the ground again.

There was a beat of silence. “Did you know?” That was Ben. He sounded hesitant.

“Know what?” You peeked up at Ben, eyes squinted to be able to look at him. He looked tense, face expressionless. “I thought you were dead. I don’t know what else to say to convince you. I thought you were dead.”

“How did you not know?” He demanded, his short fuse lit. Ben and his fucking temper.

“I don’t know, Ben!” Your own yell made you wince in pain. “They never told me shit! I tried for 15 years to get answers!”Ben didn’t look convinced. Of course he didn’t. He was so set in his heartbreak and rage, by your supposed betrayal, that he’d utterly convinced himself. “I didn’t know.” You echoed in a broken whisper.

“How’s ‘bout this?” You blinked rapidly, trying to focus in on the accented voice. “We track down the otha’ girl. See what she ‘as to say.” There seemed to be a group-wide agreement.

“Countess?” You grunted, confused. Your gaze flicked between the three men. “I know where she is.”

And that got their attention.

banners in use by @cafekitsune

taglist: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes

@boywivlove @leavli @cassieriddle713 @drasticemotions @suspicious-stain-in-spain @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys tv #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #half of me

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vylosinbound · 2 months ago

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Hiii<333

If requests are open, can you write drabble of Obey me bros + Diavolo (if that's okay) × fem! Shy Reader.

She's kind of shy at first and doesn't talk much until she gets comfortable to those around her and open up more about herself, etc.

If not interested, it's totally fine<33

Thank you in advance<<333

Thank you so much for your request, it was honestly such a pleasure to work on it! I made sure to keep the softness and a tiny bit of suggestiveness ♡

I'm so happy you trusted me with your idea! Hope you’ll enjoy it! Feel free to request again anytime!

Delicate hearts:

The brothers' and Diavolo with a shy MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor + Diavolo

Genre: Soft Romance / Fluff / Slightly suggestive / Comfort / Tender moments / Female MC

MC is shy and needs time to open up. At first, they speak very little and get embarrassed easily, but once they start to feel safe with them, they slowly begin to act more confident. Some interactions may become a little more intimate, but always in a natural and gentle way!

LUCIFER

At first, Lucifer had only observed you quietly from behind his desk, the way you avoided his eyes, how your voice turned breathless when you answered him.

It amused him, the way you shrank under his authority, but a part of him... a darker, greedier part... wanted more.

Wanted you to stop flinching and start needing him.

It happened slowly.

One evening, you approached him in his study, papers in hand, but instead of placing them on his desk, you stepped close, so close your scent curled into his senses.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You stood there, biting your lip, before daring to lift your gaze to his. "Lucifer... can I stay with you for a while?" The restraint in him snapped like a taut string.

Without a word, he stood, towering over you. His gloved hand slid under your chin, tilting your face upward.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice a molten rumble, "how long I've waited for you to come to me like this."

The kiss he pressed to your forehead was deceptively gentle, a warning of everything he was holding back.

MAMMON

Mammon always noticed how you clung to the edges of the room when you first arrived, nervous, quiet, eyes darting away when he caught you looking.

It killed him a little inside, honestly.

"Why's she actin' like I'm scary or somethin'...?" he'd mutter under his breath, watching you with a soft, confused frown.

He wanted to be close to you so badly, but he was terrified of spooking you.

But today was different. You came up to him, tugging gently at his sleeve, your fingers barely grazing his jacket. "Mammon... can I hold onto you for a bit?" you whispered, voice trembling with courage. Mammon stared like you'd just flipped his world upside down.

"Wha—? Yeah! I mean, yeah, 'course, c'mere!" In a heartbeat, he scooped you up against his chest, strong arms wrapping you up completely. You could feel his heart racing under your cheek.

"D-dumb human," he mumbled, his hands stroking your back with surprising tenderness, "ya don’t gotta ask... ya can hold onto me as long as ya want." He tried so hard to act cool, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched, like he was desperate.

"Y'can't just look at me like that and not expect me to do somethin' about it..." he muttered, words hot against the crown of your head.

He hugged you tighter, like he was afraid you'd slip away.

LEVIATHAN

Levi couldn't deal with how you were so shy around him, skittering like a startled rabbit whenever he spoke too loudly or got too close. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball and die from guilt...The other part wanted to earn your trust so badly it made his chest ache.

And then one evening, as he streamed quietly in his room, you shuffled over, blanket in hand, cheeks burning. "Levi... c-can I sit with you?" You didn’t wait for an answer, you just tucked yourself beside him, snuggling under his arm.

Levi’s brain completely blue-screened. "M-MC... you're gonna kill me..." he stuttered, voice cracking.

But he didn’t push you away. Instead, he trembled slightly, wrapping the blanket around you both, with barely contained excitement.

You nuzzled into his side, and Levi squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the feeling like it was the greatest loot drop of his life. He let out a choked noise halfway between a whimper and a sob, curling his trembling fingers shyly around yours, feeling like he was about to pass out from happiness.

SATAN

Satan noticed everything,the way your voice softened around him, the way you hesitated before touching his hand, the way you seemed to hold your breath in his presence.

He wanted to be patient, to let you come to him... but sometimes, it was agonizing. He longed to see you look at him without fear.

Books surrounded the two of you, but Satan had long since stopped reading. His eyes were solely focused on you, how your fingers brushed the pages delicately, how your lips moved soundlessly as you read.

You caught him staring, and your cheeks flushed prettily.

Satan only smiled, slow and deliberate, setting his book aside. "You have no idea, do you?" he said, voice a soft purr. "How dangerous it is... to look at me like that."

He leaned forward, bracing one arm behind you, effectively trapping you against the couch. The corner of his mouth lifted in a playful smirk as he leaned in, until your noses almost brushed.

"Careful, kitten. I might not be able to resist if you keep tempting me like this."

But he didn’t kiss you, not yet. He let you feel the heat between you first, savoring the way you trembled under his gaze.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus adored your shyness, it was delicious, it made him want to coax every little sweet reaction from you. But he was careful, never pushing too hard, always waiting for you to bloom on your own terms.

Still, he dreamed of the day you would run into his arms willingly.

"Darling, you’re blushing again..." Asmo teased gently, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. He adored how shy you were, how easily he could make your heart race with a single look.

Leaning closer, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with maddening softness.

"You know," he murmured, voice dripping honey, "you really shouldn’t make yourself look so delicious if you don't want to be eaten up."

You squeaked, pulling back instinctively, but Asmo only laughed, warm, fond. He leaned in again, this time pressing a teasing kiss just under your jawline, grinning when he felt you shiver.

"Mmm, adorable. I could worship you forever, my sweet MC."

BEELZEBUB

Beel always watched you like you were something precious. Not like food, never like that, but like a delicate treasure he was scared to break.

You sat beside him now, half-eating your snack, half-offering him bites shyly. Beel accepted every one, his large hand brushing yours intentionally longer each time.

"You're too good to me," he rumbled, voice deep and rough.

When your hands touched again, and you didn't pull away, Beel hesitated for half a second, then carefully linked his fingers with yours.

"Can I hold you, too?" he asked, voice so gentle it made your chest ache.

When you nodded shyly, Beel gathered you against him with stunning tenderness, cradling you like you were something sacred.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie noticed how you tiptoed around him at first, your natural shyness making you wary of getting too close. He found it amusing, but also a little endearing. Still, he wanted you to want him, to trust him enough to let your guard down.

You found Belphie lying on the attic couch, one arm lazily draped over his forehead.

Without a word, you climbed beside him, curling up at his side.

Belphie cracked an eye open, smirking when he saw you.

"You're bold today, MC," he teased, voice raspy with sleep. When you shyly hid your face against his chest, he chuckled low and warm.

He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left.

"Mmm... you’re soft... perfect," he mumbled against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

His hands drifted slowly up and down your spine, lazy and possessive, as if memorizing the shape of you in his arms.

DIAVOLO

At first, Diavolo had kept his distance out of respect, he saw how easily your cheeks colored, how small you seemed when you stood beside him. It stirred something primal inside him, something he barely managed to keep leashed.

You hadn't meant to end up alone with Diavolo in the palace garden, but here you were, seated on a low stone bench, drinking one of the best teas Barbatos could make as the prince towered over you, laughing softly. Some time had passed, and you were definitely more confident.

"You're trembling," he observed, tilting his head curiously. You flushed harder, unable to meet his golden eyes.

Diavolo knelt down in front of you, massive hands resting lightly on your knees. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, voice thick and warm.

Leaning in closer, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips ghosting along your jawline.

"But you should know..." he whispered, his mouth so close you could feel the heat of it, "when you look at me like that, you make it very, very hard to behave."

He didn't touch you more than that, not yet, but the heavy, heated look he gave you said everything he didn’t.

#obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #satan obey me #simeon #headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months ago

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Hiya !!! Just wanna say i think you've become my favorite writer HVBGG anyways--i'd like to requestt some headcanons with Caine & Jax seing someone flirt with their crush right infront of em gfvtghg idk anywayss Toodles !!!

Caine and Jax seeing their crush being flirted with

ik it was a creepypasta post but the "someone tries to steal them during a date" sparked something in me i LOVE that kind of petty dumb drama i need to write more of that. make it over the top. i need to get silly notes: youre the crush, reader is gn, its a wonder you and caine arent together.... maybe youre a tad oblivious..., short post cws: none

CAINE

so you know how in the show sometimes caine goes all still and quiet? and he kind of just.... stares? he does that- not for long. maybe not even long enough for you to notice- hes shifting back to his normal attitude- or as normal as he can be in a bout of jealousy

now hes not going to tear down whoever flirted with you... well... there are some backhanded comments and "comments that dont make sense but end up being an insult when you analyze it"

he... also becomes even more attached and clingy to you in an attempt to flatter you and secure your favor. look at him! look at him now! see how adoring and attentive he is! what? no hes not being weird- hes just a little crazy for you is all

added bonus that he doesnt totally understand romance so hes... a little lost in understanding what hes feeling

JAX

externally he tries to make it look like he doesnt care at all... but the slight scrunch in his face and teeny tiny scoff he lets out gives away whats going on inside. he will NOT be the bigger and more mature person, hes going to give that person shit. he might even take some of that jealousy out on you... even if youre not really observing

my emotionally stunted and constipated rabbit my beloved(/j) he will NOT talk about it when you ask him what his problem is, he will just play it off as one of his little jokes but... its kind of hard to play it off when theres genuine venom in his voice

has it out for that person for the longest time- even after the two of you get together, if ever- doing whatever he can to inconvenience them our royally fuck them over

...at least it gives everyone else a bit of a break...?

#tadc x reader #tadc x you #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus x you #amazing digital circus x reader #amazing digital circus x you #digital circus x reader #digital circus x you #caine x reader #caine x you #jax x reader #jax x you #canon x reader #canon x you #x reader

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barrenclan · 1 year ago

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do you have any webcomic suggestions?

Oh, do I! :D I'll keep the descriptions short, otherwise I'll talk about each of these for a million years.

Warrior Cats:

The Average Adventures of Genericpaw - parody comic. But watch out.

The Exiled - Fishpaw. Murder mystery.

Follow Your Heart - Sootpaw. Personal drama.

Meandering - River. Slowburn romance.

Saltburn's Clan - Saltburn. Pinepaw's cool butch lesbian aunt.

Convocations - Elkmask. Political drama. Biggest inspiration to The Dog Star.

Other:

Wilde Life - supernatural dramedy.

Wychwood - magical post-apocalypse.

The Glass Scientists - Jekyll & Hyde retelling.

Tiger, Tiger - swashbuckling magic adventure.

Little Tiny Things - French slice of life.

Paranatural - ghost fighting teens. Also, the inspiration for PATFW's "journal style". Also, Hijack.

Phantomarine - magical ghost adventures.

Awkward Zombie - gamer comic strips.

Sakana - fish market dramedy. Yuudai.

Skin Deep - cryptids comedy.

Dumbing of Age - daily college dramedy. Gave me the worst hyperfixation of my life.

The Order of the Stick - D&D adventure. My favorite comic ever created.

How To Be a Werewolf - werewolf drama.

Fairmeadow - fantasy hippie drama.

Lackadaisy - bootlegger cats. You've seen the animated pilot.

The Property of Hate - TV head guy.

Too Familiar - magical animal companions.

I'm With You - goat people romance.

The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya - sweet vampire romance.

XKCD - it's XKCD.

Vainglorious - dragon adventures.

Bybloemen - demons committing financial fraud. Gorgeous artwork.

Bicycle Boy - amnesiac in a post-apocalypse.

Novae - supernatural historical romance.

Never Satisfied - magical teen drama. It's on hiatus right now.

Monster Pulse - teens with magic organs.

Children of the Light - magic squirrel drama.

To Catch A Star - sparklewolves.

Cursed Lights - magical animal people drama.

What Lurks Beneath - cat cult.

Rabbit Hole - bunny cult.

Villtur & Sarx - sci fi manga.

Best of Bad Decisions, The Doe of Deadwood, Repeat, I Didn't Know - Songdog comics. Probably the most influential creator on my comics.

Crushed Olive Branch - Shadowhunters gayboys.

Broken Crown - magic kingdom adventure.

Sleight of Hand - Fallout gayboys.

What Happens Next - internet teen thriller.

Golden Shrike - deer adventure.

The Pale - Twin Peaks adjacent.

Un/Bound - magical road trip.

Apocalyptic Horseplay - modern horseman of the apocalypse.

There are many more, of course, but these are some of my favorites, and the ones I could remember at the moment.

#ask #anon #chatter #webcomic jones over here #i'm not kidding either i could talk about each of these so much

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cherrypie093 · 9 days ago

Text

ATP’S PETS HEADCANONS

Patrick has a big dog. One of those lumbering, slightly slobbery breeds. He’s had him since he was a kid, back when everything was simpler and naming his pup Rex or Max was just right. The name stuck, even as the years passed and Patrick started feeling that nothing is so simple and right anymore. Patrick torments him occasionally by making him wear dumb hats on walks, pretending to throw the ball and then cackling in his disappointed face, or shoving an unlit cigarette in his mouth and giggling as he takes photos to send to everyone he knows. But under all that is a fierce devotion. If anything ever happened to that dog, Patrick wouldn’t just be heartbroken, he’d come unglued. Rex is his last tie to childhood.

Tashi has an axolotl (or something like a gecko or a tiny frog) that is suspended in a carefully curated tank that could pass for a tiny spa. She became obsessed back when she was twelve, during a science unit. While the rest of the class scowled and gagged, Tashi fell in love. She spent weeks begging her parents until they finally caved and got her one for her birthday. And the fascination doesn’t fade because it’s now discipline. She tracks water temperatures daily, changes the tank on a strict schedule, feeds with surgical precision and will spiral into a forum rabbit hole if she even suspects a shift in behavior. For Tashi, caring for something that fragile, that demanding, scratches the same itch tennis does. It’s control, structure, accountability. But it’s also her escape. It’s the one part of her life where nothing depends on winning. Just consistency, care and the quiet satisfaction of getting every detail right.

Art has a cat. He doesn’t really know how she ended up in his house. One day she was just there. He never named her, but she answers to “hey” and that’s good enough for now. She was grumpy and mean and downright annoying in the beginning. She hissed at everyone and scratched when touched. It was like that until Art’s grandmother passed. It’s like she felt his loss and decided to help. It showed in the quiet way she started moving through the space. The way she’d sit near him without asking for anything exactly when he needs her most. His grandmother used to do that too - just show up in the room with a cup of tea and let the silence do the work. Sometimes when the cat watches him with that slow, unblinking gaze, it feels like something old and familiar has found its way back to him. Not her, exactly, but something like the echo of her care. He never planned to have the cat, just like he never planned to grieve so quietly.

#challengers #art donaldson #art challengers #tashi duncan #tashi challengers #patrick zweig #patrick challengers #challengers headcanons

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darknight3904 · 2 months ago

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hii! i have a somewhat angsty request for old man logan specifically if that’s okay <3 i was thinking of you both coming from a night out with friends or even on a date and something happens which occurs in a heated argument (it can either end up w fluff, smut or both!)

Loving You

Old Man Logan X Fem!Reader

Summary: After a night out, you're feeling unloved by Logan, but he proves you wrong.

Warnings: None, just language. Logan is a dense man because he can be. Mild spoilers for the show Bridgerton on Netflix.

Word Count: 1.2k

Main Masterlist

Hi, anon, sorry this took so damn long to get out, I've been slackiing off...hope this is what you had in mind

I haven't written for Logan in a hot minute. I'm so sorry if it's not up to par.

The loud slam of a bedroom door had Logan jumping. Yup, he was in trouble.

He sighed, placing his glass of water down on the countertop, trying to remember what he might’ve done that had you upset. Left the toilet seat up? No. Ate your leftovers? No, you took those to work for lunch. Did he leave his beard hairs in the sink? Nope, he definitely cleaned those up, considering what had happened last time.

The two of you had just gotten back from a date, nothing fancy, just a simple meal at a local diner and then a quick walk in the local park. He couldn’t recall screwing anything up there, he’d held your hand in the park, listened to you talk his ears off about some new show that had come out. Logan sighed tiredly, lumbering over to the bedroom door where you were probably lying down in bed, cuddled up under that fuzzy throw blanket he’d bought for you at some overpriced home goods store after you’d basically fallen in love with it one afternoon.

Two heavy knocks with his knuckles before he says, “You alright?”

“Go away.” A quiet voice murmurs

He runs a hand over his weary face, he’s too damn old for this, dealing with some young things attitude all day long. But fuck, you had reeled him in, a bartender at this shitty local joint he’d loved for their cheap prices and heavy pours. He remembered the first time he saw you, so out of place standing behind the shitty barcounter, taking an onder from some dude who wouldn’t stop staring at your chest in the tiny top you undoubtedly wore for more tips. Logan remembered how you’d given him a soft smile, lips lined with strawberry scented lip gloss that sparkled when the light hit it just right.

“What can I get started for you?”

Since then he’d been hooked, coming in on the days he knew you’d be there, sitting at the bar even after his glass was empty, never asking for more since he was too damn busy admiring you as you shined glasses and wiped down sticky countertops.

“I’m coming in.” He says, “I wanna get changed for bed.”

Just as he’d predicted, you were curled up in bed, the blanket tucked up to your chin as you lay on your side, your phone in hand. Logan quietly walked over to his chest of drawers, shedding his jeans for a comfortable pair of sweat pants, pulling his t-shirt off and letting it fall into the laundry bin, he walked over to the bed, climbing onto the soft duvet beside you. You’d spruced up the apartment he was living in, bringing a womanly touch to everything, most of all, you insisted he start sleeping with a matching set of sheets that complemented the comforter. Thanks to you, he now slept on a pale blue sheet set, duvet to match of course.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He hums

You’re silent for a moment, not even moving as he begins to think he’s just going to have to go to bed like this. Then, he hears your phone clatter onto your nightstand, shifting to your left, you turn to face him.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

Where the hell was this going?

“Why’re you askin’ dumb questions?” Logan huffs, not interested in going down this rabbit hole with you

A frown forms on your face, your brows pinching together in anger.

“You never say it, Logan. I said it twice tonight, once at the restaurant and then while we were walking, and you just did what you always did.”

Logan feels anger rising in his chest, he did love you, you knew it too so why were you asking this now?

“And what’s that, hm? What do I always do?”

“You just grunted and then kept on doing what you always do, staring off while I make all the conversation. You’re not interested in me anymore, just admit it.”

Logan groaned, “Oh yeah, M’ not interested in you. That’s why I’m lying here in the sheets you insisted we needed, in the apartment I asked you to move into.”

You glare at him for a moment before jumping up, going to the closet to pull out the big suitcase he’d carried up the steps the day you moved in with him.

“Fine. I’ll leave then.” You huff

"Good." He waves you off, not thinking you were really serious. Where the hell would you even go?

Logan groans, running a hand through his greying hair, head resting back on the pillow, as he listened to the drawers open and slam shut from your angry motions. Alright, maybe you were serious about this.

“Now wait a minute, darlin’, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish as you slam the bedroom door shut, a curse flying out of your lips as he hears the suitcase clatter to the floor. He pulls the bedroom door open and you’re on the other side, shoving the clothes back into the damn thing, muttering about this and that. Logan crouches down, his big hands picking up a roll of your socks.

“Can you listen to me for one moment? Then you can run off to wherever the hell you want.” He asks, determined to get you to change your mind

“Fine.”

Logan motions to the couch, beckoning you to follow him.

“Now what’s this about me not loving you anymore?” Logan asks

“I just…You never seem interested in what I talk about. I was talking about the new season of my show today and you were just…staring at that guy walking that dog. You never comment on what I’m saying, you just, sit there.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say. He was listening to you talk, your show wasn’t his kind of entertainment silly little girly romcoms weren’t his thing, but it was yours so he listened to you intently. At least he thought it was intently, apparently to you it looked like he was staring off into space.

Logan places a big hand on your knee, rubbing circles on the soft skin.

“Now, I dunno where you got the idea I wasn’t listening to you, but baby I swear I was. I was listening to every word that was coming out of your pretty lips. Going on about some people named Colin and Penelope and how they’re bestfriends who are gonna fall in love, right?”

You slowly nod, staring at him with those eyes he loves so much.

“And in the last season I watched with you it was about Colin’s brother, right?” Logan asks, knowing he’s right

“Yeah.” You mumble

“Mmhm, that’s what I thought. Now all this shit about me not loving you anymore. Dunno where you got that, but it’s a load of bull. M’ fucking obesssed with you, bub. I don’t say it enough, gotta work on that, but baby I love you. M’ sorry I didn’t say it back today, I don’t have any excuses for that.”

You sigh, slowly looking at him before placing a small hand over his weathered one, the tiniest smile blooms across your face as you do.

“That what you needed to hear?” Logan asks

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly, “I’m sorry I tried moving out.”

Logan chuckles, glancing back at the fallen suitcase, “You didn’t really get far, I think I can let it go.”

You giggle, a sound he’s been in love with since he first heard it at the bar a few years ago. Logan reaches out, pulling you into his lap, placing a soft kiss to your neck, you humming as his beard tickles your skin.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

��I love you.”

“Love you too, bub.”

More Logan/Wolverine here

#old man logan #old man logan x reader #logan 2017 #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #marvel #xmen #fanfic #logan howlett fluff #hugh jackman

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jxwl4k · 3 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Love, in a Bento Box .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x reader

⤿ Decorated bentos became their quiet way of saying I love you.

⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .

- the bento box is AI, I can’t find any bento box that is bakugou inspired so I have no choice but to ask AI for help😞

There was something quiet about the way love showed itself when you lived with someone. It wasn’t always grand gestures or dramatic moments it was in the small things. The kind of things you could miss if you weren’t paying attention. Like the sound of the front door unlocking at 1:23 in the morning. The weight of keys hitting the tray. The tired sigh of someone who just spent the last twelve hours saving lives and pretending they weren’t exhausted.

It was in the bento box left on the counter, wrapped neatly in cloth, waiting like a silent “welcome home.”

Bakugou Katsuki, now one of the top heroes in the country, had gotten used to the late nights, the sore muscles, and the blood under his nails. What he wasn’t used to was coming home to something warm. Something made just for him.

It started simply enough. You’d noticed how he’d barely eat after work either too tired to bother or too wired to remember. So, one night, you packed him a proper meal. Nothing fancy. Just the kind of food he liked. Spicy, heavy on the protein, balanced enough to not make him complain. You left it on the counter before going to bed.

He didn’t say anything the next morning.

But the bento box was empty.

And it kept happening every night after that.

Eventually, it became a quiet little tradition. Katsuki would come home, eat the bento you left out, and wash the box before crashing beside you in bed. You never really talked about it. He never thanked you out loud. But you didn’t need him to.

Then, one night, while you were curled up on the couch with your phone, you fell down a rabbit hole of videos—bento box artists decorating meals for their partners. Tiny sausages cut like octopuses. Rice balls shaped into cartoon faces. Little notes tucked between lettuce leaves. It was ridiculous. Cheesy. Over-the-top.

And you couldn’t stop smiling.

So you tried it.

The next bento was a bit more… playful. You shaped the rice into something that vaguely resembled his hero mask. Gave the eggs little nori eyes and blush marks. Tucked in a cherry tomato with a toothpick that said “爆ぜろ” explode.

You half-expected him to toss the whole thing out.

But the next morning, the box was, again, spotless. Not a single grain of rice left.

Still, you weren’t sure if he liked it, or if he just powered through because it was food.

So, a few days later, while he was rubbing the back of his neck and muttering about a busted mission, you asked, casually, “Hey… about the bentos. You okay with the way I’ve been decorating them?”

He froze mid-step, eyes narrowing just a little. “Why?”

“I mean, if you don’t like them, I can stop. I know they’re kind of silly.”

He scoffed. “They’re not silly.”

“…No?”

Bakugou looked away, jaw clenched like he was fighting a war inside his head. “They’re dumb,” he muttered. “But… in a good way.”

You blinked. “A good kind of dumb?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up. You know what I mean. It’s like… they’re stupid cute, and they make my shitty day feel less shitty.”

You tried not to smile too wide, but he caught it anyway.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Tch.”

And that was that.

From then on, it wasn’t just tradition. It was your favorite part of the day figuring out what silly little thing you could hide in his bento next. A rice bear. A carrot shaped like a grenade. A tiny sticky note that said, “Don’t blow anything up (unless you have to). Love you.”

And even though he never said much, you knew he liked it. Sometimes he’d leave the note on the fridge. Other times, you’d catch him smiling barely, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth while watching you fuss over the presentation.

Love was loud when he was fighting villains, screaming orders, protecting strangers.

But at home, it was quiet.

It was bento boxes and rice bears.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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lovetaroandtaemin · 9 months ago

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Kinktober 2024

Day 6: Dumbification

Oh Sion x Reader Word Count: 825 THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!! Warnings: Soft dom!Sion, dumbification, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, a tiny bit of degradation, creampie, breeding kink if you squint. If you think I missed a warning, let me know! A/N: If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on one of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

One of the things that initially attracted Sion to you was your intelligence. You loved to learn new things, and he loved watching you light up as you talked about your passions. Every time you went down a research rabbit hole, he was happy to listen. You also had an impressive memory, and it amazed Sion whenever you recited some obscure fact you had learned years ago.

That might be why the first time you and Sion had sex, and you were barely able to form coherent sentences, it caught him by surprise. He would never admit this to you, but it also boosted his ego quite a bit as well. He loved that he could make you feel so good you could barely speak.

One night, the two of you were sitting on his bed kissing. You originally had no intention of fucking him, but the way he held you as his lips moved in time with yours had you more turned on than you wanted to admit. Then Sion gently bit your lip, and the need to have him inside you got even stronger. The moment he pulled away from the kiss, you said, “Please, I want you.”

“Aww, needy already, baby?” he asked. When your only response was a nod, he smiled and said, “All I did was kiss you.”

You blushed at his words and mumbled another “Please?”

Sion laughed and said, “What my baby wants, she gets. Take your clothes off and lie down for me.”

You immediately did as you were told and watched as Sion removed his own clothing. You had seen him naked before, but every time you did, you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was beautiful, inside and out. When he saw you staring he blushed a little bit, and you smiled.

“Well, do you like what you see?” he asked. Too embarrassed to respond, you only nodded. Sion laughed a little bit and said, “I’m gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“I want you,” you mumbled.

“Well I know that, but what exactly do you want?” When you didn’t answer, Sion said, “Come on, sweetheart. All you have to do is tell me and you can have it.”

“Please fuck me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.”

Sion got back in bed and climbed on top of you, attaching his lips to your neck when he found a comfortable position. As he slowly slid into you, you let out a loud moan. Sion quickly moved from your neck, kissing your lips instead in an attempt to muffle the noise. It didn’t do much, though, especially once he started thrusting in and out. It amazed him how loud you were in bed, especially with how shy you typically were when he teased you. He found it adorable, however, so he wasn’t complaining.

“You feel so good, baby,” Sion said, “It’s like you were made for me.” Already too fucked out to speak, you only whimpered in response. Deciding to tease you, Sion said, “Aww, already too turned on to think straight?” You nodded slightly, and he laughed, fucking you harder.

When Sion heard you yell, “Fuck! Harder, please,” he couldn’t help but get a little bit cocky. He loved seeing you like this.

“Aww, it seems like my baby likes getting fucked dumb. Am I right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, too lost in pleasure to really process what he was saying. You loved when Sion fucked you because you could feel your brain shutting off. It was the perfect stress reliever. If the noises leaving his mouth were anything to go by, this was his favorite way to help you relax.

After a few more thrusts, you felt Sion bring his hand down to rub your clit. That was all it took for a familiar feeling to hit the pit of your stomach, so you let out a whine and said, “I’m close.”

“Fuck, cum for me baby. Let it go.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As you wrapped your arms around Sion and dug your nails into his back, you felt your orgasm wash over you. When he felt you clench around him, it didn’t take long before he came inside you, a feeling that you loved more than you cared to admit.

After you both came down from your highs, Sion slowly got off of you and helped you get cleaned up. Once both of you were dressed again, he brought you each a glass of water. You gratefully accepted it, and once you were done drinking he held you while you talked about whatever came to mind. As you started to come out of your post-orgasm haze, you sounded more and more like the nerdy girl that he fell in love with. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t mind fucking you dumb occasionally, of course.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct smut #kpop smut #kpop kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #sion x reader #sion smut

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years ago

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Alhaitham & Kaveh give the vibes that they’d own a hybrid, like bunny or sheep darling so they can delude themselves into thinking they’re keeping them safe. or maybe they’re both hybrids too? maybe just Kaveh is?? the possibilities r so endless with this au

tw - implied non///con, unhealthy relationships, dumbification and unbalanced power dynamics.

there are actually so many possibilities with kalhaitham,,,, i can see any of these dynamics being really fun, but i am absolutely in-love with the concept of kaveh finding a stray bunny hybrid while scoping out an empty plot of land for an upcoming project (that is, if his client actually coughs up enough funding, this time) and immediately deciding he just can't bare to leave you all by yourself. alhaitham gets home in time to catch kaveh wrestling you into a bath, having already made a valiant effort to comb the burrs and mud out of your matted fur, and attempts to warn his roommate about how much attention hybrids can demand, how moody and absent-minded rabbits tend to be in particular, but of course, kaveh's too stubborn to listen. since kaveh swears up and down that you'll be staying in his bedroom and cared for with kaveh's meager commissions, he lets it go (even if he does keep tighnari on speed-dial, just in case).

you are a little cute, once you get cleaned up. bunny hybrids tend to be somewhat empty behind the eyes, and you're no exception, perfectly happy to be cared for and doted on and dressed up in kaveh's pretty, frilly outfits so long as it means you're fed well and allowed to spend your days bundled up in kaveh's fluffy, expensive blankets. you don't say much, not when you're alone with alhaitham, but kaveh seems more focused on treating you like some oversized stuffed animal than making conversation - always hauling you into his lap and fawning over your floppy ears, fussing over your outfits and your diet and your rough you must've had it before he took you in.

really, the only time alhaitham hears your voice is as he passes kaveh's door at night, when he pauses to listen to kaveh's cooing and the strangled, muffled sounds you let out, so unlike anything he's ever heard you make before. sometimes, he'll linger longer than he knows he should, fuck his fist as he pictures your plush body bouncing on kaveh's thigh - your big, dumb eyes wide and watery and your little pink nose twitching as you cum for the thousandth time. it's no wonder you've always got that glazed-over, faraway look; he's surprised you can bring yourself to think at all when kaveh's constantly fucking you to the brink of unconsciousness, constantly splitting you open on his tongue or his fingers or his cock whenever alhaitham turns his back. then again, alhaitham would be lying if he said he doesn't see why kaveh is so feral, when it comes to you.

if he had less self-restraint, he would've bent you over the first time he caught you traipsing around the house in one of your tiny skirts, would've told you to get on your knees as soon as he realized exactly what his roommate was using that pretty mouth for. you're lucky he has more self-respect than kaveh does. you're lucky he takes better care of his pets than kaveh does.

you're lucky that, when comes time for his turn to fuck your brains away, alhaitham's already decided he's going to treat you like the animal you are rather than the toy kaveh so clearly wants you to be.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh

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holyblonded · 3 months ago

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Can we have some hcs of Azulita? Maybe some about others from teamgetting to know her and stuff?

Also we know that she is street smart but is she academic smart?

— you are my favorite person rn i am loving azulita hcs

— azulita is incredibly street smart. she’s quick on her feet, knows how to read a room, and can clock someone’s intentions within seconds. she can navigate unfamiliar places with no GPS and can tell you exactly which exit to take, where to hide, or how to get something for cheap.

— academically… not so much. she’s not dumb but she’s just never had the space or stability to care about school. she learns fast when something interests her, but traditional learning has never worked for her. she zones out in class, can’t concentrate that easily, forgets homework, and rolls her eyes at anything that feels like busywork.

— when she first started at the academy in barcelona, most of the other girls assumed she was mean. she had a heavy accent, a resting glare, and she didn’t talk to anyone unless she had to.

— the team was different. they were more open and understanding especially when alexia told them she was still adjusting to life in spain.

— marta was the first to crack her. azulita made some sarcastic comment under her breath during a meeting and marta laughed so hard she almost choked. after that, azulita started sitting next to her.

— patri tried to give her the usual “new girl” speech. something about how things worked around there, but azulita just raised an eyebrow and said, “i’m not scared of you.” they’re not besties or anything, but there’s a mutual respect now.

— pina brought her a protein bar before a training session once and azulita almost cried. she hadn’t eaten breakfast and was too proud to say anything. now clàudia keeps extras in her bag “just in case.”

— she bonded with vicky over music. vicky caught her listening to bad bunny on a bluetooth speaker before practice and they ended up going down a rabbit hole of artists they both loved. now vicky’s her unofficial DJ. it also helps that they are around the same age so vicky introduced her to some of her friends too.

— she doesn’t like asking for help, but alexia’s been gently easing her into study routines. they sit at the table and work through school packets together. sometimes azulita tries to act bored, but she secretly loves how patient alexia is with her.

— the first time someone made fun of her spanish at school, she didn’t even flinch, just packed her things and walked out. when olga asked what happened, she shrugged and said, “they’re lucky i didn’t swing.” the next time she did in fact swing.

— frido is lowkey obsessed with her. calls her “tiny menace” and keeps inviting her to team hangouts.

— irene told her she reminded her of herself at that age and azulita almost said “gross” but then irene taught her how to break a defensive line in two touches and now she’s listening.

— azulita doesn’t trust easily, but once she’s in, she’s ride or die. and the team is starting to see that. she plays like her life depends on it and defends her teammates like it’s personal.

— she doesn’t talk about her past much, but one time, late after training, she told vicky that back in LA, football was the only thing that made her feel calm. she does tell her about the late night adventures, riding her bike past the palm trees, and the random spontaneous block parties where she danced and ate until her heard was content. vicky didn’t say anything, just nodded and passed her the ball.

#answered asks 💌#woso community #·˚ ༘ something blue: asks

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anjee0 · 7 months ago

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My brother's best friend

Chapter 4 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

B Rabbit x Female!reader. (Feel free to put an oc insert if you wish as well)

Description - In which Y/n starts to become friends and possibly more with her brother's best friend, BRabbit.

Warnings - ANGST, misundertandings

@tiny-gay-satan

It was dark and cold out and Y/n and Jordan were having dinner together. She wasn't listening to anything Jordan was saying because she was too busy thinking about someone else. And that someone else was definitely Rabbit. The past few days had consisted of them constantly going out on dates and flirting with each other every second they had. It was clear they both had feelings for each other but neither of them had made a proper move yet. Y/n started smiling like an idiot as she remembered the last date they went on last night. They snuck into the theatres like young teenagers and then stuffed pizza in their faces afterwards at a pizzeria.

“Are you listening to what I'm saying?” Jordan asked, making Y/n immediately snap out of her daydreaming.

“Uh, you were saying something about…” She thought carefully of what to say as Jordan furrowed his eyebrows and squinted at her. “You were talking about work.”

“No I wasn't. Rabbit said he doesn't want to participate in the battle next week.” Jordan replied.

“He doesn't?”

“Not after he choked. Listen, I know there's something going on between you and Rabbit-”

Y/n groaned as she threw her head back. “There's nothing going on-”

“Yes there is. I'm not dumb. And just so you know, I have no problem with it.”

“You don't?”

“No, I guess I'm fine with it. Anyway, I know there's something going on between you and Rabbit and I was just wondering if you can talk him into doing the battle. Please?”

“Fine. But you have to cook dinner for the next week.”

“What?”

“Come on! I always cook dinner. It's the least you could do.”

“Fine. Deal.”

The next day, Y/n had work again at the diner. She sat down mindlessly at the bar as she played around with the straws in the metal container. It was pretty early in the morning so there weren’t many customers right now. She sighed mindlessly until the bell chimed at the door.

When Y/n looked up, she saw 2 girls walking into the store. And one of them caught her eye. The girl had short blonde hair that curled up the ends and some smudged eyeliner on. She also wore some bold red lipstick that matched with the jacket that she was wearing. She looked absolutely stunning.

“Morning.” Y/n greeted them.

The blonde girl smiled at Y/n and sat down at the table with her friend.

“Let me know when you’re ready to order.” Y/n said.

“We will.” The blonde girl replied as she and her friend started browsing through the menu.

Around 30 seconds went by until the bell chimed the tune again. When Y/n looked up, she smiled as she was greeted with the sight of Rabbit. His beanie was falling down his forehead a bit which made him look so adorable.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked.

“I just came to see you. Anything wrong with that?”

“Nah. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thought I’d see you before my shift started.” Rabbit said as he settled down on the barstool.

“Actually, it’s good you came. I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Jordan told me you’re not participating in the battle next week.”

“Is he tryna get you to convince me?”

“Yes but-”

Rabbit immediately sighed and groaned and leaned his head forward.

“Rabbit, look at me.”

He tilted his head up and looked at Y/n.

“You’ve got talent, okay? And you shouldn’t let it go to waste. Please do the battle.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you.”

Y/n smiled happily as she felt a joyful warmth growing in her heart at Rabbit’s words.

“Thanks Rabbit.”

She quickly adjusted his beanie and dusted the top off before pinching his cheek gently. “Sorry, it was just bothering me.”

“That’s fine. Listen, since our shifts end similar times, I was just wondering if you could stop by my workplace after you finish. I’ve got something I wanna show you.” Rabbit asked.

“Alright, I’ll come over. What do you wanna show me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Rabbit glanced over at the clock behind Y/n and realised he was running late. “Shoot, I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you later, okay? Just meet me at the alleyway next to the building.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before shooting her a playful smirk and leaving.

The heat in Y/n’s cheeks rose as a distinguished pink colour appeared on her face. She couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. Maybe Rabbit was going to ask her the question she was waiting ages for.

“Excuse me, we’re ready to order.” The blonde girl called out, snapping Y/n out of her dazy thoughts.

“Oh yeah, of course. Coming.” Y/n replied.

When Y/n approached the table, she was immediately interrupted by the blonde girl. “Hey, I’m Alex,” She said.

Y/n couldn’t help but find it a bit odd how Alex had greeted her. It was pretty uncommon for customers to introduce themselves when they took an order. “Hi. I’m Y/n. What would you like-”

“Listen, Y/n. I have something important I have to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you dating Rabbit?”

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name. “You know him?”

“We dated.”

“You did?”

Y/n suddenly felt her heart sunk in a deep pool of insecurity. Rabbit dated such a pretty girl like her, why would he even take interest in me? She thought.

“And listen, I mean all well when I say this but, me and him started talking again.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah, I mean, I had no idea he was dating another girl.”

“We’re not dating yet. Just at the talking stage.”

“Yet? No offence, but I don’t think you’re gonna get to that stage with him. I think he’d prefer me.”

Y/n’s blood started to boil and shocks of fury started to surge through her veins. “Get out.” She said sternly.

“What?”

“I said get out. I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit. Leave.”

Alex faced her friend and chuckled with an annoying, smug expression before getting up and pushing past Y/n.

“Sorry for telling the truth. He prefers me anyway.” She said before her and her friend disappeared through the doors.

Y/n scoffed and shook her head as she placed her hands on her hips. An expression of unbelief was painted on her face. She refused to believe what some random girl who she had just met was saying about Rabbit. She partly believed the fact they dated but refused to believe the fact that they were talking.

Rabbit let out a sigh of relief when his boss said he was done for the way. As he left the building, he couldn’t help but just crack a silly smile. Today, he was going to ask Y/n to be his girlfriend and he just couldn’t wait. He knew he liked her, he knew she would say yes but he still felt an aching feeling of rejection hanging in the air.

Since his shift ended a few minutes earlier, Rabbit decided to run over to the flower shop across the road. He thought that maybe flowers could help out a bit. As soon as he entered the shop, the fragrance of the soft and subtly sweet flowers travelled to his nose. It smelt absolutely delightful and he knew that he would find what he wanted there. He settled on a single rose as a bouquet was way out of his budget. He silently hoped it would be enough.

Rabbit went back to the other side of the road and waited in the alleyway next to the building. He bit his nails and tapped his foot against the floor in quick beats as streams of thoughts moved in his head. What if she forgets? What if she says no? What if she laughs in his face for even asking in the first place?

He heard footsteps from around the corner and mentally prepared himself. He stood up straight and held the rose behind him as he put on a confident smile. As the footsteps got louder, Rabbit grew more anxious.

“Hey Rabbit.”

His smile immediately dropped when he recognised the voice. A jolt of anger struck through his spine. “What the hell are you doing here, Alex?”

She strutted towards him and left little space between them. He could feel her hot breath gliding across her face. “I just wanted to see you.” She said as he played with his beanie.

“Don't touch me.” He snapped as he took a step back.

“Don't be like that, baby. I miss you.” She stepped closer.

“And don't call me that either.” He continued to step back until he felt his back against the wall.

“Come on, I know you miss me.” She pouted and stood right up in front of him. “I know I do.”

“I don't, okay? How did you even know I was here?”

“I was at the diner with my friend.”

“You were?”

“Yeah and I heard your little talk with that girl. What was her name again? Y/n?” Her eyes darted down to his leg where she saw a bit of the rose poking out. She immediately took it from his grip and laughed with a cocky expression.

“Is this for me?” She asked sarcastically.

“No, give it back.” He tried to grab for it but she pulled her hand away so he would be out of reach.

“Come on Rabbit, admit it. You want me back.”

“You were the one who cheated on me!”

“I was drunk.”

“Still doesn’t give you an excuse to hook up with some random guy in a bar. We’ve been over for nearly a year now!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve changed. I promise.”

“Get away from me.”

Without warning, Alex grabbed Rabbit’s shirt and crashed her lips against his into a bruising kiss. Nothing about it was gentle or caring, it was rough and forceful and full of deceit and neediness. Rabbit stiffened as he struggled to move out of her gasp. His hands curled into fists as he felt every inch of his body screaming for him to move away.

“Rabbit?” A voice called out.

Alex pulled away as her and Rabbit looked to see who the voice was. His eyes widened as his eyes laid on Y/n, standing at the end of the alleway in disbelief as she felt her heart drop. Her eyes were filled to the brim of betrayal and anger. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her chest tightened at the sight, finding every chance to breathe more and more difficult.

“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like.” Rabbit said as he pushed past Alex in a hurry.

Alex smirked at Y/n from behind as she played with the rose in her hand. Her face was stupidly smug with a self-satisfied grin plastered across her face. She knew the effect she had on Y/n and it was thrilling for her to watch, like a game.

“Wow, Rabbit, I really didn’t expect this from you.” Y/n murmured as tears slipped down her cheeks.. Her voice was fragile like glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

“No, Y/n. Please, listen to me-”

“No, Rabbit. I don’t wanna listen and I don’t wanna see you again. Have fun with her.” Her voice was hollow and laced with pain. She felt that horrid lump, tightening in her throat. She tried to swallow it away, but it stayed there like a cork, trapping everything.

With her final words, she walked away as her steps echoed in the alleyway. Rabbit’s feet were attached to the ground, he couldn’t move a muscle. Beads of tears ran down his cheek as he saw Y/n turn the corner. He could feel his heart shattering into tiny pieces, like a delicate china cup. Alex pushed past him and shoved the rose into his chest, making him stumble back. She looked at him with an arrogant and self-centered grin as she walked away with egoistic confidence following behind her.

Y/n entered her house, her expression sour and her face dried with tears. Jordan was on the sofa, watching TV. As soon as he saw Y/n, his brotherly instincts turned on and he knew something was wrong.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked in a soft tone.

“I’m fine.” Y/n replied with no emotion.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” Jordan switched off the TV and stood up, concern growing even further within him.

“I told you, I’m fine Jordan.”

“No you’re not.” He slowly approached her and placed his hands on her shoulder gently. “Look at me. What’s wrong?”

The moment Y/n met her eyes with Jordan’s she shattered. She buried her face into his chest as she let out choked sobs full of despair and sorrow. She left bitter pools of tears on his shirt, as she cried uncontrollably.

Jordan sat Y/n down on the sofa as he held her close. “Alright, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Rabbit. He- he was with another girl.” Her voice hiccuped with each word, making her struggle to even form a sentence.

Jordan’s eyes hardened and his expression went stone cold. He looked dead into Y/n’s eyes and she couldn’t tell if he was mad, upset or maybe a bit of both. “He was with a girl?”

“Yeah. I don’t, I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, I’ll talk to that idiot, okay?”

“No, no. Please don’t. I don’t wanna make anything worse.”

“Y/n, he was talking to another girl behind your back-”

“I don’t care. Please. Don’t.”

“Fine. But if he tries bothering you, I’ll bother him back, alright?”

Y/n stifled a broken chuckle as she wiped her tears away. “Okay.”

“Hey, don’t cry. You got me, okay?”

“Thank you Jordan.”

“Come on, go take a shower. We’ll talk afterwards.”

#eminem #eminem x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader

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