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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months ago

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Dog Tags (4)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> After you get discharged from the hospital, things start to change between you and Bucky.

Disclaimer: This is part four to parts one, two and three. Little angst, lot of fluff, Bucky and reader train together, found family moments between the team, Sam and Wanda being exhausted shippers, Bucky blushes, swearing. Not Proof Read.

By the time you were finally discharged from the hospital, Bucky was the one to bring you home.

“Bucky, I can carry my own bags.” You watched as he hauled your overnight over his shoulder before pushing the trunk of the car down.

“You’ve only just been discharged from the hospital and I don’t exactly feel like calling them up, as your husband, and telling them you’ve busted a stitch.”

“My stitches healed ages ago.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not taking any chances.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you told him, though it didn’t hold as much bite as it used to.

Bucky turned around with you in the elevator before clicking the button for the compound apartments.

“And you’re a thorn in my side, sweetheart.”

You just smiled to yourself as the doors closed in front of yourself and Bucky.

It was noticeable, the change, between yourself and Bucky.

The rare good morning grunts, or more often; complete, yet heavy, silence. They had been swapped for smiles and genuine good mornings. The training and shift patterns were easier to assign, mission reports were completed with less dent marks in the paper, and the evening dinners were less awkward.

Sam and Wanda had become hopeful. They all had.

“They look happy, don’t they?” Sam asked aloud, already knowing Wanda was silently standing beside him.

She smiled. “They really do.”

Down the hallway, you and Bucky were exiting the training room, laughing. The look in Bucky’s eyes – the light – had been rare to see in the last year. But when he was with you…

The light between both of you could blind any shadow.

“Is it permanent?” Sam asked, something in his gut denying him true joy.

Wanda smiled, hopefully. “I think so. Their connection runs deep. He helped her heal. She helped him. Nobody can end a connection like that.”

Sam nodded, turning his head to look back down the corridor where you and Bucky had just turned. He could only hope it would last.

Bucky had been in love with you for a long time, even if he didn’t like it. Sam didn’t want him to hide it away. He deserved love. And so did you.

Even when all you did was fight, you were each other's safe space.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Shut up.”

“Because one wrong hit and it all falls down.”

You were starting to regret agreeing to family games night at Kate’s apartment. It was yourself, Kate, Yelena, Clint and Bucky; all sat on the floor.

“Careful, doll.”

“Shut up.”

You knew you’d taken a risky move with the jenga block, but if you’d chosen the one Clint had first been trying to ‘help’ you towards, you’d lose.

“You know, this is a stupid game. We should play something else.” Yelena said. Her’s would be a different tune if she hadn’t lost the last round.

Kate shushed her, “She’s gonna do it.”

Clint looked at his work partner. “This is a one for all game. Can’t be girls vs boys. We’re outnumbered.”

Yelena scoffed. “Bucky is like…ancient. He qualifies for two people, at least.”

You sniggered, trying to keep your focus on the wooden block.

“You are a child.” Clint deadpanned before turning to Bucky. “They’re children.”

“Ah!” You pulled the brick free and held up your arms. “Done it!”

The tower remained standing for another minute before Clint took his go and the tower came falling down.

Yelena just laughed, “Ha.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself to stand. “Okay, I’m getting another drink.”

“I’ll set up the next game.” Yelena called out before picking up the monopoly board.

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said as you stepped over his legs before helping him up.

As the pair of you walked into the kitchen, you could hear the other three stuck in an argument over who should be the banker.

“Beer?”

Bucky held out his hand and you passed him the two in your hand. Popping off both caps, he threw the tops into the sink before handing you yours.

You both clinked the necks of the bottles against each other’s. “You did good.”

“Would have been easier if I didn’t have this super annoying voice coming from across the table.”

Bucky smirked a little, narrowing his eyes. “Now where would the fun in that be?”

You just shook your head as you took a sip of your beer. You leaned against the sink as Bucky leaned adjacent to you.

“So…”

“So?”

Bucky lowered the beer bottle from his lips and braced himself on the counter. “I’ve got a free day tomorrow if you want to…do something. With me.”

You looked him over. “Why are you shy?”

You saw him blush a little as he looked away. “I’m not- I’m not shy.”

You smiled and Bucky felt like he needed to look away despite that being the last thing he wanted to do.

“Bucky,” your voice was soft as you looked at him. “What is it?”

“I just…” Bucky’s question was on the tip of his tongue. But then he chickened out. “I was wondering if you wanted to train with me tomorrow?”

“You were nervous to ask me to train with you?”

Bucky nodded. “Last time I asked, you said no.”

You just stood back for a moment, your eyes fixed on him. “I’ll train with you.”

Bucky felt like his crush in a 40s dancehall had just finally agreed to dance with him. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded. “Don’t know who would train on their day off, but sure.” You smiled before grabbing the bowl of snacks on the kitchen counter.

“We better get back in there before the bank has a hostage situation.”

Bucky chuckled, following you back into the living room.

By the time the next afternoon rolled around, you and Bucky were beat.

Bucky held his side. “I thought you were taking it easy after your injuries.”

You laughed, “I got a full clearance from the hospital four months ago. Good as new. Thought I’d go easy on you? Never.”

You almost had Bucky to his feet but he pulled a reverse on you. Somehow you found yourself trapped on your knees, your back against his chest. “Little too cocky, sweetheart. And who said I wanted you to go easy on me?”

Jabbing him in the ribs, he calculated your next move. You were rolled onto the mat together. As you had Bucky on his back, you felt him reach for your knife. Only, it wasn’t there.

He felt a small pinch by his side. He looked down, a little breathless. “You remembered.”

A small chuckle left you. “I remember a lot of things about you, Barnes.”

You didn’t know what it was. Your words and their hidden meaning, the smile on his face as he was looking at you, the way his eyes flicked to your lips, or the fact that yours did the same with him. Maybe it was his hand, holding onto the side of your leg, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth. Maybe it was the breathless exchange. Or maybe it was your constant reminder of him that fell forward from your t-shirt.

Dangling between you both were Bucky’s dog tags.

Pulling your attention away from the slow-swinging metal, Bucky spoke, “You’re still wearing them.”

Your gaze locked onto his. “Yeah…never take them off.”

Maybe it was the fact that Bucky was looking at you like…like he wanted to kiss you. Or the fact that you wanted him to.

But something shifted.

You cleared your throat and quickly moved yourself from Bucky’s body and stood up. “I, uh, I should…there’s somewhere I’ve gotta…”

You couldn’t think straight. You just needed to get out of there, before you did something reckless.

The rest was a blur. Gathering your things up, Bucky slowly standing up and trying to keep you calm. He was clueless and worried. And somewhere between it all, you’d pressed his dog tags into his palm and left.

For the next month, things were…awkward, to say the least.

“Has she told you anything?” Bucky asked, once again frustrated that you weren’t talking to him.

It was bordering on week 5 of you ignoring him.

And it. Was. Maddening.

Wanda shook her head. “No, nothing.”

In saying you’d told her nothing, that was the truth. But deep down, Wanda already knew why. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky after that day…it had scared you. It had opened something up inside of you that you’d been forcing down for a long, long time.

“I thought we were finally getting somewhere,” Bucky sighed as he sat down.

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her.”

“How?” Bucky almost exclaimed.

“And we’re standing again,” Wanda whispered to herself as Bucky launched himself from the sofa and started pacing again.

“Everytime I see her, she doesn’t look at me. If she sees me coming down the corridor, she takes a completely different exit. We got assigned a three day recon mission last week, she won’t take the mission.”

“She’ll take the mission, Bucky.”

He just shook his head. “She won’t. She hates me. Again. I don’t even…”

“She doesn’t hate you, Bucky. She never has.” Wanda told him. “Look, Y/n…she’s not someone who trusts easily. And she trusts you, Bucky. I know she does. Maybe even more than she even knows. Which also means, I know that it scares her.”

Wanda stood and laid a light hand on Bucky’s chest, a little over his heart. “Just talk to her. Find her. Make her sit down if you have to. Talk. It’s the only thing you can do.”

Bucky bowed his head and sighed. That was even if he could get you alone in a room for ten minutes.

“We need to talk.”

You ducked your head as if a bullet had just been fired towards you. “Jesus- James.” You closed your eyes and sighed heavily. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. Make a noise or do something. How long have you been standing there?”

“Ten minutes. At least,” Bucky answered honestly before pushing himself from the wall. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run off. And, from the way you’ve been punching that bag, I’d say you’re really pissed at someone.”

“Want me to give you three guesses?”

Bucky just hummed and continued to watch you as he stood a little closer.

“What do you want, Bucky?”

“I want to talk.”

“What about?” You continued to hit the punching bag in front of you.

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Bucky came and held the bag still and for a moment, you stood back. Breathless, sweaty and tired, you looked at him.

“I know you’re not dumb, Y/n. You know what.”

You stepped away, untying the bandage from your hands. “Enlighten me.”

Bucky watched as you walked away from him. He could take a lifetime of you hating him, but not a lifetime of you ignoring him.

“Aren’t you tired of this game?”

“What game?”

“This one. And the one we’ve been doing for the last few years. I thought we made up. I thought we were finally friends.”

You shook your head. “You don’t wanna be my friend, Bucky.”

“Yes, I do.” He stood in front of you before you could walk away. You finally looked at him.

For the first time in over a month, you finally looked at him. And he knew it was still true. He could drown in your gaze for the rest of his life.

“Or maybe I don’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What I do know, however, is that I want you to talk to me. I can take you hating me for the rest of your life, Y/n. But I can’t take you ignoring me. Pretending like we don’t exist.”

“We?”

“What happened here?” You knew what he meant. The training mats were less than eight feet away from you. “That day?”

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to run away from the conversation. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

He let you pass but he still followed behind you. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened, Bucky.”

“Y/n.” Bucky stopped walking.

“Goodnight, James. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y/n, wait!”

Finally, you stopped in your tracks. Your back was still facing him, but you had stopped running. For the moment.

Slowly, you turned around to face him. Your grip tightened on your bag. “What?”

Bucky stood looking at you. Breathless. Angry. Worried. Sad. Annoyed. Tired.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, almost to himself as he bowed his head and braced his hands on his hips. “I can’t.” He looked back up at you, a little more determined. “I like you, Y/n. I can deal with you hating me. I’d prefer it, actually, compared to you ignoring me. If I’m being completely honest, I more than like you. But since I’ve barely been able to keep you in the same room as me for the last month, I’m gonna keep that to myself until I know you’re not gonna run away from me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so Bucky continued.

“Just…tell me what happened…please.” Bucky was ready to get on his knees and beg.

Your words were caught in your throat. Stuck in place, burning underneath whilst freezing on top. So you did the only thing your body was allowing you to do.

Move.

You could have turned away. You could have ignored it all.

But you stayed.

Bucky watched as you dropped the bag from your shoulder and it landed with a loud thud on the ground. Then you were making your way over to him.

Pulling him in by his dog tags, you placed your other hand by the back of his head and kissed him.

It was safe to say Bucky hadn’t been expecting it. Dreamed of it a few times, but never expected it.

It felt surreal.

You felt his hand clasp your waist, his fingertips pressing lightly into your skin almost as if to check you were real. It wasn’t long before you felt one of his hands beside your face, trying to hold you closer as he kissed you right back.

Eventually the kiss broke apart, but Bucky wasn’t ready to let you go.

“That,” you eventually said. “That was what happened…what almost happened,” you corrected.

Bucky felt lightheaded and unsteady on his feet but in the best way.

“You should have stayed that day.”

You found the courage to finally look at him.

You shook your head. “I…couldn’t. I know it’s bullshit but…it scared me. More than anything. I’ve been hiding that part of myself for so long I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, just for future reference, this is the better answer.”

You felt yourself chuckle a little once you saw the corner of Bucky’s mouth lift up.

“I can take you hating me, doll. But I can’t take the silence. Even when we’re fighting, I still know you’re there. You still talk to me.”

That was when Bucky let you go.

“What are you doing?”

From around his neck, he pulled the dog tags up and over his head. “Giving you these back.”

“But they’re yours.”

Bucky just laid them over your head and around you, holding them with a smile. “They’ve been yours since you stole them, doll.”

Holding them in your palm, you looked at them.

“They haven’t been the only thing you’ve stolen from me.”

You looked back to Bucky, a softened smile on your face. And he was looking right back at you, the same stupid grin on his face that had been making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Promise me you won’t run away from me, again?”

You shrugged. “Like you said, this is the better answer.”

Bucky grinned, sharing a laugh with you as he cupped your face before kissing you again.

He hadn’t been expecting for you to kiss him when you did, but he was certainly glad you had. Because it meant he could finally kiss you back.

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hearts4hughes · 1 month ago

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Please give us a Part. 2 of Rafe giving reader’s earrings to someone else 😭🥹🥹

part one

the next few days were rough. you hated how rafe could suck you back into his black hole after finally recovering from the first time through.

it was stupid, really. who cares if she has your earrings? they’re just a reminder of the years of your life with him. and yet, you still care. you care that she wore them, that she styled them better. you care that he pawned them off to her like they were from a cheap one-night stand.

you could delete his number, throw away all his things, pretend he never existed, but it doesn’t matter. because when the sunsets and the world quiets, you’re tossing and turning in your bed, praying you could fill the hole in your heart that he left.

the knock comes like guilt. it’s ten minutes past noon (you know because you’ve been checking your watch non-stop like it owed you something). you don’t answer at first. you stay curled up in the same hoodie you’ve been wearing since wednesday, half-watching the same show, half-hoping your phone lights up with his name, half-praying it doesn’t. math was never your thing, but you’re getting real good at fractions.

“it’s me.” his voice is hoarse. like he just woke up or hasn’t slept at all.

you don’t say anything. but your chest folds in on itself, bitter and too tender at the edges. it’s not fair, the way his voice still gets to you. still feels like home, even though it scorched every room. you open the door anyway.

he’s standing there in a black tee, wrinkled jeans, eyes hidden behind the kind of sunglasses he only wears when he’s hungover or trying to hide…maybe both.

in his hand he holds your earrings. they’re dangling, delicate, completely contrasting his calloused hands. the same ones he said “weren’t a big deal” when you asked.

you stare at them. then at him. and it’s like a rubber band snaps in your chest. he doesn’t say anything for a second. just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage the guilt out of his spine.

“i was drunk,” he says finally. “that night. i didn’t think.”

you blink. once. twice. “yeah, no shit.”

he flinches. good. a beat passes before he opens his mouth again, “i woke up the next morning hungover and feeling like a complete asshole. it wasn’t fair what i did.” the apology lingers on his tongue, but he’s too prideful and arrogant to say it.

you cross your arms, nails digging into your sleeves. “so what, you came to return them like a library book? little too late for that, don’t you think?”

he looks down and breathes in sharp. he holds it for a few seconds before releasing the breath like it was weight on his shoulders. “i couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says. “about you. how you looked when you wore them. the way you used to play with them when you were nervous. i don’t know. i—” he cuts off, like the words catch in his throat and choke him.

“i told her she had to give them back,” he finishes. “said they weren’t hers to wear. she broke up with me after, but i’m not even sure if we were together.” he shrugs like it was just another day, like that same girl didn’t ruin your entire month.

your chest burns and your vision blurs and somewhere, deep down, something in you unclenches. he holds the earrings out without an argument. he doesn’t try to come inside, doesn’t even meet your eyes—almost as if he was scared he’d say something he’s regret if he did.

“i know i don’t deserve a second chance,” he says, quiet now. “but you deserve your things back. the ones that meant something.”

you don’t take them at first. just stood there with both of your hearts on your sleeves. the air around you feels thick enough to suffocate. then, slowly, your fingers brush his as you reach for them. he shivers…and you hate yourself for noticing.

“you should go,” you whisper because if you don’t say it now, you’ll let him stay. and you don’t know if you’ll survive that again.

he nods once. jaw tight. steps back. but before he turns away, he says it. he’s not loud, not begging. just a soft, broken thing he barely lets himself feel. “i miss you.”

and then he’s gone. you close the door with earrings clutched in your hand and heart bleeding into your sleeves.you miss him too. more than you’re caring to admit.

but this time, missing him has to be enough.

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#no happy ending…sorry #nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron obx

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goyardgoyangi · 2 months ago

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𐙚 agora hills pt. 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⌗ pairings: suguru x reader

⌗ summary: you grew up in his orbit, your best friend’s older brother, always just out of reach. he was cool, unreadable, and never paid you much attention… or so you thought. but college changes things. and now guys are noticing you. he says he’s just looking out for you, that he’s being protective, but the way he touches you says otherwise. one night, one mistake that doesn’t feel like a mistake, and suddenly everything is different.

⌗ word count: 1.5k

♥ pt.3 ♥ masterlist ♥

You’ve been avoiding Suguru Geto for three weeks.

Which is hard to do, considering he’s your best friend’s older brother, and he’s been in and out of the apartment more often now that he’s wrapping up his final semester.

He’s almost gone. Degree practically in his hands. Full-time job lined up— some engineering firm downtown with sleek office floors and smart people doing what smart people do. The kind of job that means he won’t be around much longer.

Which is perfect, really. Ideal.

Because maybe once he’s out of the picture, you’ll finally stop remembering how it felt to have his hands on your waist in the dark. Or how his voice sounded when he whispered your name, all whiny and wrecked, like it meant something.

It didn’t, though. It couldn’t.

You’re just his little sister’s friend.

And it was just one night. An error in judgment. A mistake.

A big, stupid, why-did-I-think-this-wouldn’t-be-weird mistake.

“Still stuck on that assignment?” your best friend asks, peering over your shoulder at your calculus notes.

You slam the textbook closed, defeated. “I hate math.”

She laughs. “You need help.”

“I know,” you groan. “But no one in my class gets it either, and the TA ghosted me, and— ugh, whatever. I’ll just thug it out.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then:

“Suguru’s good at calc.”

Your spine stiffens. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No.”

“I think he’d—”

“I said no, okay?”

She raises her hands, backing off, but not without a knowing look. “Fine. Just thought I’d offer. He’s on campus tomorrow anyway.”

You don’t answer. You’re already drowning in the memory of the way he looked at you afterward— half-shocked, half-silent, like he couldn’t believe what just happened either.

You haven’t talked since.

Not really.

So when your phone buzzes later that night and his name lights up your screen, your heart goes completely still.

You stare at the message.

Short. Neutral. Like nothing’s wrong. Like you didn’t once fall apart on his cock, his cum filling you until you could barely remember your own name.

Need help with calc?

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

Then come back.

Just calc.

You press your lips together, eyes scanning the words like they might rearrange into something more honest. But they don’t.

And you already regret saying yes.

Because the second you see Suguru waiting by the steps outside the student union— tall, lean, black hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms like he’s trying to look casual— you feel the panic set in.

You said yes because you needed the help.

Not because you wanted to see him again. Not because part of you misses the weight of his hands on your waist. Not because—

It’s not just the way he looks (annoyingly hot, per usual) or the way he straightens when he spots you. It’s the way he smiles— small, almost hesitant, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to anymore.

You stop a few feet away. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, long fingers threading through his hair. “Brought you a drink. Didn’t know what you liked, so I went with something pink.”

He passes you the cup, your fingers grazing his. It’s stupid, really, how something so small makes your face heat up instantly.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Of course.”

The library is quiet in the way that makes your heartbeat feel loud.

You and Suguru take a seat at one of the back tables— hidden away between the towering shelves, tucked beneath a flickering overhead light. You’ve sat here a million times with your best friend. It’s never felt this small before.

He pulls his chair closer than necessary. Opens your textbook without asking. His fingertips graze the margin of the page like he’s easing his way into something more delicate than derivatives.

“So,” he says, pen in hand, “what’s killing you?”

“Everything after series and sequences.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods slowly and leans in.

And God— he’s close. So, so close.

His voice drops as he starts walking you through the steps, smooth, serious, and painfully focused. He’s always sounded like this when he explains things— like every word is weighed and placed intentionally. You never noticed it before. Or maybe you did and pretended not to.

But now?

Now you can’t stop noticing.

The curve of his mouth when he says “converges.”

The way his brow furrows in concentration.

How the longer strands of his hair fall forward when he leans closer, like it’s trying to graze your cheek.

He’s explaining something, but you can barely hear him over the warm, woodsy scent of his cologne and the heat of him sitting too damn close.

“You still with me?” he murmurs.

You blink. Fuck. His eyes are on you now— forcing you to really look at him, not just steal glances from the side.

You’re trying. You really are. But after hours of formulas and boxed-in equations, your brain’s fried.

Suguru’s been patient, too patient, if you’re honest.

You groan. “Ugh. I’m not built for this.”

Suguru chuckles. “You’re doing fine.”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter, leaning back and stretching your arms over your head. “I wish I had, like, a hot personal tutor or something. Someone pretty who just sits beside me and explains everything and doesn’t make me want to throw my textbook out the window.”

You say it without thinking. Offhand. Harmless.

But then you feel him pause beside you.

You glance at him.

Suguru’s jaw is tight.

He’s still looking at your notebook, pen motionless in his hand, but you can see the little twitch in his brow. The flicker of something restrained in his throat when he swallows.

“What,” you tease, nudging his arm, “jealous?”

He finally looks at you. Straight-faced. Dry tone. “I am your personal tutor right now.”

“Yeah, but you’re not—”

You stop yourself.

Too late.

You don’t even finish the sentence, but he raises an eyebrow anyway. “Not what?”

You pretend to focus on your page, suddenly very invested in the difference between divergence and convergence. “Nothing.”

But his voice drops, lower, a little slower. “Not hot?”

You glance at him— and he’s looking right at you now, eyes half-lidded, corners of his mouth barely curved, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Your throat feels dry. “That’s not what I meant.”

He leans in just slightly. Not close enough to touch, but enough to tilt the air between you.

“Okay,” he says. “But just so we’re clear… if you did have a hot tutor—hypothetically— you’d be paying attention to anything but calc right now.”

Your stomach flips.

You open your mouth to say something. Anything.

But then his pen taps the textbook.

“Page 214,” he says, like he didn’t just throw your brain into complete disarray.

You stare at him.

He smirks. Barely.

And somehow, you're more distracted than ever.

You try to focus.

You really do.

But your mind’s a mess now, numbers and symbols smearing together behind the sharp curve of his jaw, the soft shadows beneath his lashes.

He hasn’t brought it up again… yet.

But then—

“So,” he says casually, spinning your pencil between his fingers, “what exactly qualifies someone as a ‘hot tutor,’ anyway?”

You look up from the problem you’ve been pretending to solve for the last five minutes. “Oh my god. Let it die.”

“I’m just curious,” he says, grinning now, fully leaning into it. “For academic reasons.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re literally so annoying.”

“Is it the voice?” he muses. “Because I have been told my voice is kinda sexy. Like, could probably convince you to join a cult.”

You groan, dropping your head dramatically onto the table. “This is bullying.”

He leans in, resting his chin on his hand, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I mean… if you ever did get a hot tutor, you’d let him sit this close, right?”

You look up slowly. His face is inches from yours.

“You’re unbearable,” you say, heart hammering in your chest.

He smiles wider, but there’s something softer beneath the smugness now. Something warm.

“You didn’t say no,” he murmurs.

You stare at him. “Suguru.”

“Hm?”

“Stop flirting.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “I’m just trying to meet the academic standards you set for me.”

You glare at him, but your lips twitch despite yourself. He sees it. Of course he does.

“Besides,” he adds casually, going back to your notebook like the conversation never happened, “you already called me hot. It’s on record now.”

“That is not what I said.”

“Mm, close enough.”

You sigh, slouching back in your seat. “Remind me why I asked for your help again?”

He looks up at you, a faint, calculating smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Because, even though you’re clearly too distracted by me,” he says with a playful sigh, “you still need my help with calc. Unless, of course, you’d rather fail.”

And damn it— he’s right.

You don’t answer. But you don’t deny it either.

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2knightt · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think u could write abt the gang being (separately) absolutely obsessed with the reader. Like they adore everything she does, they can’t get enough of her. To the point where the rest of the gang starts releasing them abt it, meanwhile reader is like completely oblivious lol

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ heaven and hell were words to me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! the greasers are totally obsessed!

tags/warnings: no confessions—just the gang having a crush, gang being literally whipped, them being a little odd, kinda toxic!johnny LFMAO, nothing else to my knowledge

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m just working…working hard so i can please you.(shout out to ema/corvyes/loml for that ref.) but if i get a req asking me for like the gng confessing to you—i will do it. trust.

Dallas Winston

WHEN HE’S DRUNK, YOU’RE ALLLL HE TALKS ABOUT LMFAOOOO

“i’m tellin’ you—there ain’t a girl like her.”

dallas would repeat after what felt like this 5th drink of the night. buck is sick of him, two-bit regrets dragging him along, and dallas just wants to tell them how good you looked today.

when he sees you walking home, to school, or to work he WILL tag along. HE DOESN’T GAF IF YOU TELL HIM TO TAKE A HIKE!

actually, he kinda does. you’re like the only person he listens to.

LMFAOOO THE GANG THREATENS TO CALL YOU OVER WHENEVER DALLAS IS DOING SMTH STUPID

like whenever you threaten a kid ur gna tell santa.

“dallas, i’m gonna tell y/n what you did last week.”

“??if you do, i’ll beat your head in, soda.”

“YIKES..i’m gonna have to tell her that too…”

“…don’t, she’d be so mad at me😔😒.”

THE GANG TEASES DALLAS THE WORST(besides ponyboy) ABOUT YOU LFNAOAOAOAO

like they’re shoving him toward you, nudging him at even the slightest mention of you, giggling as they tell him they seen you today.

“look, it’s your girlfriend.”

“steve, shut up! she ain’t deaf!”

—

“GO SEE HER!”

“OW—i mean—hi, y/n.”

“did you…trip? or did you mean to bump into me?”

“yeah, sorry or whatever. some IDIOT back there pushed me.”

—

“guess who i saw..🥰🥰”

“who?”

“your wife…”

“can you NOT.”

despite all that, you somehow, still don’t know how he feels about you. how? we’ll never know. it’s beyond the human mind.

his friends try and hint at you that the big, bad greaser has a school girl crush on you. do you get what they’re trying to say? no. but that’s okay, you’re just a girl.

lowkey pisses dallas off but that’s okay cuz he prefers admiring from afar. DOES HOWEVER ASK YOU TO HANG OUT AND CONSIDERS THEM A DATE IN HIS HEAD TO KEEP HIM SANE LFMAO

“you wanna go see this drag race tomorrow?”

“sure! i don’t have work then. uhm, pick me up at my place!”

“alright, cool.”

‘yeah..,it’s date🥱😍’ — dallas’ brain.

Johnny Cade

‘johnny, if you even fucking stutter when you talk to her today—you’re gonna have to drink pickle juice.’

“oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, johnny. ‘m sorry.”

“o-oh—it’s alright.”

‘well, shit.”

he thinks he looks like such a fucking loser when he talks to you omfg😭😭

the gang tries to tell him he might have a shot but he thinks they’re just telling him that because he’s their friend. :(

HEAVILY admires from afar. like seriously he’s a fucking stalker

WAIT LMFOAOO HE’D BE THE TYPE OF GUY TO ACCIDENTALLY STALK YOU LIKE HE’D FOLLOW YOU PLACES FROM AFAR LMFAOAOAOOAOA

what a little freak

anyways

he accidentally lets things slip to let you know he’s better than any other guy trying to go after you. like if you had a shitty ex—he’s preaching that he’d ‘never treat you like that, he can’t imagine that a guy with a brain ever would.’

johnny does everything to keep your attention on HIM and nobody else when your friends try and talk to you when you two are out together. like you could be having a conversation with him and he’d be just pouting in the background with his arms crossed.

“y/n, look. they got that shirt you was talkin’ ‘bout. let’s go check it out. c’mon.” “oh—alright! bye, viv!😊” “yeah, bye viv.😒”

side eyes the gang whenever they bring you up in conversation

“johnny and y/n sittin’ in a tree—“

“😒🤨”

“alright.”

he tries to subtly hint that he really likes you and that you’re his type but it’s not subtle at ALL.

“y’know, if i were to have a girlfriend, i’d wish she was like you.”

—

“my type? uhm, it’d probably be someone-“ and he goes on to describe you.

Ponyboy Curtis

‘holy fuck that’s literally y/n walking towards me??!! does she know i’m here—does she even know me-wow she looks good in red. i mean—SHE’S WAVING OH MY GOD.’

HE IS SUCH A WRECK I CANTTT

ponyboy is the type to stare off into space in your direction and dream about how well he’d treat you if he was your man!!

yk how bitches be like ‘my man, my man!’ whenever they talk about their crush?? he’s all ‘my girl, my girl!’ WUAGRMRNEE

the gang was so confused on why he was so eager to go to school all of a sudden?? and why he cares about his appearance just slightly more than usual?? …is that soda’s shirt he’s wearing?-

two-bit was the first one to realize what was happening when he seen ponyboy and you talk in the halls. that wasn’t the giveaway, though.

it was the way he stared at you like you were the only girl alive and everyone else was just gone. two-bit was almost moved to tears to see ponyboy all grown😞😞!!!

“is tha’ your girlfriend? that why you couldn’t wait ‘til monday?”

“shut up!”

“ouuu, wait until the gang hears ‘bout this!”

“YOU AIN’T TELLIN’ ‘EM NOTHIN’!”

ever since — it has been hell on earth for ponyboy. dallas brings you up every time ponyboy gets smart, johnny giggles at every kissing scene at a movie nudges him, soda and darry had to give him ‘the talk,’ (soda just made it worse by making snide remarks.) and steve never stopped poking fun at him.

two-bit tried to get you to spill the beans on how you felt about him, but all you’d do was huff and ignore him. FINE THEN😒!—is what he always thought.

soda, johnny and two-bit all let ponyboy rant about you.

“LIKE, BRO. my girl, my girl! she’s so cute and smart. LIKE SHE’S TOTALLY MY DREAM.”

—

“that’s so cute ☹️” - soda

“SHE WANTS YOU SOO BAD” - two-bit

“just go tell her, man.” - johnny

does everything to impress you stoppp 😭😭!! pony is trying harder in school, using less hair grease, wearing darry’s cheap cologne when he’s not looking, etc.

HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM!!!

Sodapop Curtis

delusional king!!! yes soda, let the voices in your head tell you that she wants you so bad!!🫶🫶

swear to goddd he thinks y’all are meant to be. you tipped him when he was working at the cash register and he was sooo in love

sorry in my head he’s a hopeless romantic

cause a) you were gorgeous, b) kind enough to tip him, and c) most likely rich💯💯

when he seen you at random places with your friends—soda would get so excited LMFAOOO

STOP HE’D HOUND PONY FOR YOUR NAME

“bro they probably go to your school—just lemme look at your yearbook!”

“no??? you weirdo???”

“please??!! i’ll do the dishes or something!”

“….get me a pack of cigarettes and i’ll tell you.”

“OKAY🥰🥰”

stole them but pony never said how to get them so who gaf!!!

SODA WOULD TOTALLY WRITE YOUR FIRST INITAL + HIS LMFAOOAOAOAOAA

or he’d see who’s last name went best with curtis or your last name!!!1!1!1

he’s crazy insane over you did i say that already

whenever you come by the dx—he’d give you shit for free while you insist to pay.

“jus’ take it.”

“i can’t—i’d feel terrible.”

“it’s alright, no one has to know. right?”

he’d flash his million dollar smile, pushing your coke and chips close to you, inciting you to just take the food.

WAJENEDKD he wants u so bad it’s. so terrible.

steve hates his rambles

“YOU SHOULDA SEEN THE WAY ME AND HER WAS TALKING—SHE’S SO INTO MEEEE”

“yeah, she wants you!!! shut up now!!”

Darry Curtis

nobody knows. it’s like a top secret only darry knows. the gang has their suspicions but they can never really know why darry is suddenly so adamant on going to go get him, soda, and pony’s hair done at the salon.

they alllll can see that he only really talks to you—but at the same time he does that weird ass dad stance where they stand with their arms crossed and legs far apart LMFAOOOOO

darry thinks you’re like…model fine btw.!!!!!

BROOO WHEN YOU LIKE UNCONSCIOUSLY MASSAGE HIS HEAD WHEN YOURE CUTTING IT—HE’S SOO READY TO JUST ASK YOU OUT

darry doesn’t know what it is but goddamn!! you have him in a spell!!

“c’mon—we gotta go to the salon again.”

“….we just went?”

“TWO WEEKS AGO. it’s about time we go AGAIN.”

does in fact work a little extra just so he can see you. he’s that much of a loverboy i fear.

HE DOES ACTUALLY NOT WAIT TO ASK YOU OUT

like, among all the gang, he’s the only one mature enough to actually flirt with you properly & to ask if you’re single.

darry’s fucking down like that.

AWWHHH HE TOTALLY BUYS YOU FLOWERS AS A ‘THANK YOU’ GIFT LOL

flexs his strength around you to prove he’s worthy !!! DARRY LOVEEESSS SHOWING OFF WHEN YOU’RE LOOKING

megara + hercules methink…..

you two probably started hanging out as ‘friends.’ …yeah right!!!!

he’s driving you around as you be his pretty little passenger princess, he’s offering to buy you things when you two are out, etc, etc.

darry might not know how to show that he likes you, but trust me, the second that you look a little too far into his actions—it gets obvious.

like maybe too obvious idk.

Steve Randle

HELLLOOOO??? HE IS TOTALLY SHOWING OFF HIS GYMNASTICS MOVES AROUND YOU

“bro, bro! (yes he’d call you bro. idgaf.) watch what i can do!!😊😊” “wowwww, steve that’s so cool.”

geeks out near you. when you aren’t around the average person would see him and go ‘jesus christ, he literally might beat my ass.’ but when you’re around, they might think, ‘why is that scary looking guy talking about cars and comic books rn??’

you bring out the nerd in him in the best way possible🫶😊 BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE LIKE LIKES YOUUUUUUU

and it’s so obvious to the gang bc wdym steve told you all about DC comics while all they got was a ‘yeah, it’s alright.’ …hm…..

soda NEVER shuts the fuck up and him and his little girlfriend. NEVERRREE

“why’re you so pouty today? y/n ain’t say hi?”

“bro, shut up!”

steals for you and gives them to you all proud like he paid for it LMFAO

tries to be sooo cool around you but the second you bring up the latest batman comic he’s all “OMGOMGOMGOMG IT WAS SOO GOOD!! DID YOU SEE THE-“ he’s a loser what can i say.

dallas totally flirts with you in front of steve just to piss him off LOLLL like when he sees dallas twirling your hair around his finger steve is just all “???🤨🤨😡😡”

and then becomes your knight in shining armour and swoops you away as he glares daggers at dally!!!!<3

Two-bit Mathews

he becomes the funniest man on the planet i’m not joking

he says jokes that anybody and everybody will laugh at. just because he wants to see you laugh at what he says for his delusions

two-bit thinks like ‘she laugh=she likes me’

he’s not the brightest but it’s okay

HE MAKES IT SOOO KNOWN THAT HE LIKES YOU LFMAOOOOOO

“you’re lookin’ pretty? who’s the fella?” / “gee, i didn’t believe when they said they seen an angel walkin’ around until now.” / “well, now you owe me dinner.”

shit like that

two thinks he’s soooo smooth…smh.

DALLAS AND PONYBOY SO BADLY WANTS HIM SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY ABOUT YOU LMFAOOO

they keep on telling him just to confess already but then two gets all giggly and shy and goes “omg guys noooo🤭🤭🤭🫣🫣”

just coincidentally runs into you everywhere you go!!! (literally has eyes everywhere. he’s weird. he’s odd.)

follows you around like a lost puppy and lowkey kinda gossips. idk.

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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be4chywritez · 3 months ago

Text

hold my hand | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

you’re cold Quinn is warm, boom problem solved.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

The line is barely moving.

You cross your arms, trying to conserve warmth, exhaling a slow breath that fogs up in the cold air. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—going to this new food truck Quinn had been talking about all week, the one with the ridiculous wait times because they only did pop-ups every couple of months.

It wasn’t supposed to be this cold, though. You swear the weather app had said mild temperatures. Instead, it feels like winter has personally declared war on your hands.

You pull your sleeves down further, but it doesn’t help. The cold lingers, clinging to your fingertips no matter how many times you try to rub warmth back into them.

Quinn, standing beside you with his hands shoved into his pockets, notices.

“You cold?”

“No,” you lie, rubbing your hands together for emphasis. “I’m thriving.”

Quinn tilts his head, unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s fine.” You wave him off, but the movement just reminds you of how stiff your fingers feel. “Once we get food, I’ll be warm. We’re, like—” You glance at the line ahead of you. Still way too many people. You sigh. “—almost there.”

Quinn doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call you out. He just exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he reaches for your hands.

His fingers wrap around yours, warm even through the chill. You blink at him, startled, but Quinn doesn’t hesitate—just starts rubbing slow, steady circles into your skin, like this is a perfectly normal thing to do.

“You’re actually frozen,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal, like your brain isn’t currently short-circuiting.

Quinn does not believe you. He huffs, like you’re making this harder than it needs to be, then tugs you closer. And before you can fully process it, both of your hands are being pulled into the pocket of his jacket, along with his own.

It’s so warm.

The fabric is soft and thick, insulated in a way your sweater isn’t, and Quinn’s grip is firm, unwavering. His hand is still wrapped around yours, fingertips pressing lightly against your wrist, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart does something stupid.

You glance up at him. “Do you do this for all your friends, or…?”

Quinn scoffs, a quiet laugh under his breath. “Just you.”

And maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear he squeezes your hand just a little tighter.

You should say something.

Anything. A joke, a deflection—something to make this feel normal. But your brain has completely short-circuited, because Quinn’s hand is still wrapped around yours in the pocket of his jacket, warm and steady, like this is just a thing he does.

You blink up at him. “You know, I could’ve just stuck my hands under my arms.”

Quinn doesn’t let go. Doesn’t even move. He just raises an eyebrow. “That’s gross.”

“Okay, dramatic.”

“You think I’m gonna let you stand there looking miserable when I have a jacket?” His tone is casual, so casual, but his fingers tighten slightly over yours, his thumb brushing absently against your knuckles. “It’s basic problem-solving.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way your chest is doing things. “Pretty sure this is, like, advanced-level boyfriend behavior.”

Quinn does not react. At least, not in a way that’s immediately obvious. But his jaw shifts—just slightly. His ears, already pink from the cold, flush a little darker.

Your lips twitch. Oh.

You tilt your head, leaning in slightly. “Quinn, are you blushing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

Quinn exhales through his nose, deep, measured, like he’s regretting every life decision that led to this moment. But he still doesn’t let go of your hand.

The line finally moves forward, and the two of you step up automatically. Quinn sighs. “I should’ve just brought you gloves.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to be my personal space heater.” You grin. “See? I’m actually the one problem-solving.”

He gives you a look. “Yeah, okay.”

You nudge him lightly. “I’m just saying, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked.”

This time, Quinn definitely blushes.

Quinn doesn’t let go. Hasn’t let go.

Which means your hands are still tucked inside his jacket pocket, wrapped up in his, while you inch closer and closer to the front of the line.

You know you should let it go—should stop teasing him before he actually gets embarrassed and pulls away. But his ears are still pink, and his grip is just a little tighter than necessary, and honestly? It’s fun.

“So,” you hum, shifting slightly, feeling his fingers flex against yours, “was this your plan all along?”

Quinn, who had been so sure of himself five minutes ago, blinks. “What?”

“This.” You gesture vaguely to the situation, but it’s useless because your hands are still in his jacket. “Taking me to stand in a ridiculously long line in the freezing cold just so you could hold my hand.”

Quinn’s brows pull together. “You were the one who said yes.”

“Because you bribed me with food.”

“I didn’t bribe you.”

“Quinn.” You tilt your head. “You looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘If we go now, I’ll buy you two desserts.’”

His jaw shifts, barely. “That’s not a bribe.”

“What is it, then?”

Quinn pauses. And, for the first time since this started, you watch him actually think about it. Like he’s trying to come up with something else—anything else—and coming up short.

You grin. “Exactly.”

He exhales, deep, slow. “You are so annoying.”

“And yet you’re still holding my hand.”

That shuts him up.

His grip doesn’t loosen, not even a little. But he does look away, gaze flicking off to the side, like avoiding eye contact will save him from this conversation. It does not.

You lean in slightly, just enough to make him sweat. “Quinn.”

No response.

“Quinn.”

Still nothing.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Quinn, are you ignoring me?”

“I don’t know.” He shifts slightly. “Are we at the front of the line yet?”

You glance ahead. One person left. You roll your eyes. “You got lucky.”

Quinn hums, a little smug now, and you narrow your eyes, shifting again—this time on purpose.

His fingers twitch.

“You’re holding on pretty tight,” you muse, “for someone who—”

The cashier calls you forward.

Quinn immediately lets go of your hand, smoothly, effortlessly, like it never happened. Steps up to the counter, all business.

And—okay. Maybe you should’ve expected that. But you don’t have time to overthink it because the cashier is waiting, and Quinn, the traitor, is already placing his order like nothing happened.

You sigh, ordering yours before turning back to him, squinting. “You dropped my hand so fast.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow. “Did you want me to hold it while I paid?”

“Yes.”

That surprises him. His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to double down.

Before he can recover, you hold your hand out. “Fix it.”

Quinn stares at you.

You stare back.

Then—after a long pause he exhales through his nose, grabs your hand again, and doesn’t let go.

#be4chywrites #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine

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andvys · 4 months ago

Text

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter four

⭐︎ While I’m alone and blue as can be

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood and wounds, gore, post apocalypse au, major character death

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Steve's outburst leaves him guilty and regretful, but a conversation might fix things... a little.

Word count: 6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for proofreading, for fixing my dumbass mistakes and for writing with me hehe

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter ⭐︎ next chapter

☀︎

It was surprising how well you adapted to this change, to being back on the road. You imagined it to be harder when you were still back in Hawkins, you thought that you would struggle after days spent in warmth and safety but you didn’t, you don’t struggle – maybe it’s got to do with the fact that you are not alone this time, that you still have a warm bed to sleep in every night, that you still have the feeling of safety thanks to the people you are with, that you still have a roof over your head. The RV almost feels like home. For now, you have enough food and water to last for a while, though you still stock up on cans, water bottles snacks wherever you can find some, gas stations, grocery stores, and shops that you stop by on the way.

It’s been three days since you left Hawkins, three days since you saw Steve fall to his knees and cry out tears that you know he must’ve pushed away since the day he lost her. You felt so bad for him, your heart broke at the sight of his pain and at the sound of his cries. You pitied and felt for him, though it still didn’t take away the pain he left you with. His words hurt, and they stung deeply. You were stupid to think that things could work out between you and him when he shared a moment with you in the kitchen, you got too hopeful. He was mean and cruel to you; it was a mistake to try and be his friend.

Now, you don’t talk much to him, only when you have to. You don’t look at him all that much either, nodding at his questions and giving short replies. He tries. He tries to talk to you, to strike up conversation but you don’t want it, you don’t want to talk to him, knowing that he only does it out of guilt. It wasn’t a surprise to you when he approached you on the first day and offered his help to cook dinner with you. You declined and asked for Eddie instead.

He isn’t heartless, nor is he a bad guy, of course the guilt and the regret would catch up eventually but it doesn’t make the feeling in your chest go away, the dread and the sadness he put inside of you.

The tension between you is thick and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie and Nancy. Even on the day of your departure, they knew something had happened the night you ran after Steve. You came back crying, and the next day you barely talked, sat there with puffy red eyes and a sad look on your face.

And now, whenever he comes close to you, whenever he tries to talk to you or help with something, you bolt, not wanting to be anywhere near him, not wanting his help, not wanting to talk to him, nothing.

Maybe it would have gone unnoticed by them if it wasn’t for the time you’ve spent together cooking the night before you left Hawkins. It was tense between the two of you before, but it was different because you still tried and he didn’t have that guilty look on his face he has now. Every time he asks you something and you reply with less than three words before walking away from him, his eyes follow you, filled with guilt and sadness.

‘He looks like a kicked puppy’, Eddie had said to Nancy.

He looked like one for the past three days, and it’s seemingly getting worse. The longer you behave this way towards him, giving him nothing but a cold shoulder, his eyes sadden a little more.

You are completely unaware of it all. If only you took a better look, you would see it too.

Leaning against the side of the RV, Eddie is smiling with his eyes closed, enjoying the faint warmth of the afternoon sun as he puffs out the smoke from his cigarette, humming the melody of a song Steve doesn’t recognize.

Unlike the metalhead, Steve looks anything but relaxed, his eyes glued to the dusty windows of the gas station you and Nancy are currently inside of, looking for food to stock up on. He is swinging his bat back and forth, pacing around as he waits.

He wanted to be the one to go into the gas station with you, though Nancy didn’t even give him the chance to before she followed you inside and told him to stand guard with Eddie.

The guilt of what he’s done, of what he said to you has been eating at him, worsening every day. He despises what he did when he was angry, and he can’t forgive himself for directing his anger at you. You were right, you were right from the start and deep down he knew it.

Nothing waited for him back there, not her, not even the ghost of her but he didn’t want to accept it.

Now he has to deal with the aftermath of the ugliness that ripped out of him when he hurt you. You can’t even look at him and it makes him feel like the worst person alive.

Eddie peeks one eye open, taking a look at his friend, he can see the distressed look on his face, the deep frown and the way he constantly runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit. He would be amused by this if it wasn’t for the hurt look in your eyes.

The door opens and Nancy walks out with a box, grinning at Eddie, “we got corn, tuna, beans, we even found some trail mix and chips, they might be a little stale but–”

“Is she still inside?” Steve asks, interrupting her as he looks over her shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s desperately looking for something sweet,” Nancy chuckles as she moves past him, getting into the RV to put away the things she gathered.

Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette before he throws it on the ground, killing the flame with his boot; he starts making his way over to the entrance when he feels a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the RV.

“Stay here,” Steve orders as he makes his way inside instead, wanting to use this moment to be alone with you, to talk to you, to apologize. He closes the door behind him and takes a look around. Most shelves are empty, covered in dust and cobwebs, some cans and bottles are lying around, and an unpleasant smell hangs heavy in the air. He hears some rustling to his right, followed by a string of curse words falling from your mouth. He follows that sound, careful not to step on any fallen object. He finds you in the last aisle, and he notices that one of the shelves has fallen over, leaving a mess on the floor, some bags of candy and chips lying beneath it and you are crouched before it, searching for something, the variety before you seemingly not satisfying enough.

Steve opens his mouth but he quickly closes it again when he feels the coil in his throat.

“Reese’s pieces and sour patch kids are not the most popular candy in the apocalypse I guess,” you mumble as you turn around, not expecting to be met by hazel eyes and that guilty face. “Oh… it’s you.”

Your face falls and his heart drops, he grows nervous.

“I-I yeah, uh,” he stutters, bringing his hand up to his hair to run his fingers through it. Now that he stands here before you, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to start with his apology, he doesn’t even know how to apologize, he was so mean to you when all you wanted was to help, you wanted him to come with you, you wanted him to leave the dying town because you didn’t want him to die with it. “I wanted to check up on you… Nance found a bunch of cans.”

Your eyes scan his face, the nervousness and the guilt filled eyes – that is the only reason why he is here, the guilt is eating him alive and he can’t handle it, it’s not even about you and that he hurt you, it’s about himself, only about himself.

“Yeah, we got lucky.” You mumble as you turn around again, no longer focused on the candy, you just don’t want to face him. It’s difficult enough avoiding him in the RV.

He hates the stoic tone in your voice, it’s so unlike you. Even when he was cold towards you back in Hawkins, you were never like this with him.

He looks down at you, noticing how slow your movements have become, how you are no longer moving the bags of candies around, looking for that one specific one. You don’t want to look at him and he doesn’t blame you, he can’t.

“Can I help you?” He asks, not knowing how to start this off, not wanting to make it any more awkward than it already is.

A sigh falls from your lips, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Steve is being nice, kind – it’s the side of him you were looking for a few days ago, and you couldn’t find it then. If it’s driven by guilt now, then you don’t want this kindness.

You push yourself up, taking another deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You know you have to start talking to him again at some point, you can’t bear this awkwardness for long either.

You also can’t bear this look on his face, those stupid eyes, the pout and his tousled hair. You don’t want to look at him in that way. You know he wants to apologize, you also know that he sucks at it.

“No, I’m done here.” You shrug, gesturing to the box you filled with snacks and toiletries you could find, along with other things you could need for the RV. You’re about to bend down to pick up the box when he stops you by placing his hand before you.

“I got it,” Steve murmurs, adjusting his bat as he bends down to grab the box.

“Okay…” You mumble, pulling back.

You wait for him to move, to turn around and walk out of the store but he doesn’t, instead he straightens his back, with the box on his hands, he directs his gaze at you again.

You brace yourself for what he is about to say, taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest.

He starts by saying your name, softly, carefully. You realize how foreign it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“I-I know this won’t change what I did, what I said but I’m really sorry, I’m sorry for hurting you, for saying those things about your family. I was… I didn’t want to leave, I was angry – and I know that’s not an excuse – I… fuck… I’m horrible at this but I’m just, I’m really sorry. I hope your family is okay and that you will see them again… soon.”

You can hear the desperation in his voice, the need to make this right. You can see the softness in his eyes, something you aren’t familiar with in the slightest. His lips are curled downwards, the sadness in his features so clear.

You nod, the tension in your shoulders from all these previous days slowly falling.

“Thank you, Steve, I appreciate your apology.” The tone in your voice and the look on your face isn’t so convincing though. “And I know that my family is okay, I will see them soon.”

Good. He didn’t kill your hope. He hopes that it’s good.

His lips curl up a bit, you are so set on it, you are so sure of it, that your family is okay and that you will reunite with them. It scares him a bit. You are so hopeful now, so confident about it – what will happen when you won’t find them the way you wish to? What will happen to you? Will you lose yourself the way he did when he lost her? Will you die the way he did? Will you be a ghost trapped in a living body?

You forgive him, but you don’t crack a smile, not even a small one, not like you used to even when he was being an asshole to you. You clear your throat and break eye contact, brushing the fallen strands from your single braid behind your ears.

The tension between you is still there, the awkwardness and the hurt in your features. He has to try harder than this, an ‘I’m sorry’ won’t cut it.

“I–”

“We should go, we need to set up camp before it gets dark.”

Before he can even say, or try to say anything, you move past him, hurrying out of the store, wanting some distance between you just like before. He can’t blame you, he can’t be mad at you but his shoulders slump still, and his face falls too. He didn’t feel this before, he didn’t feel this kind of guilt back in Hawkins because he wasn’t vulnerable, his feelings were bottled up and the lid was closed tightly, there was no space for those kinds of emotions, anything other than anger was impossible for him to feel.

But after he let her go, after he allowed himself to finally grieve and cry, to empty that bottle of emotions, he started feeling everything again, all at once, overwhelmingly so, and now it all feels so intense.

The urge to run his fingers through his hair is strong but his hands are full. He sighs loudly, shifting on his feet, he is about to follow you out when his eyes catch a glimpse of something red underneath one of the broken shelves, something you must have been looking for.

The fire crackles before you, the flames are kept low to not attract attention. You sit close to it, needing warmth on your cold skin, the blanket around you isn’t enough, the gusts of wind cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s mid fall, but it’s already getting so cold, and you could smell the hint of winter nearing.

You can’t help but feel a little jealous of Nancy and Eddie, they get to sleep in the warm RV tonight while you stay out here, doing night watch with Steve. You volunteered yourself, though you quickly regretted it when Steve said he’d join you.

You were successfully avoiding that the past three days, you either did night watch with Eddie or Nancy. Last night you were the lucky one who got to sleep in the big bed while Steve took the couch – now you are sitting here, out in the cold, tugging the blanket closer around you.

Steve left to do a perimeter check, not trusting the area despite how safe it seems compared to the ones you have spent your nights at in the past when you were still by yourself. He didn’t want to listen to you though, he grabbed his rifle and left about twenty minutes ago.

You hold your mug filled with coffee tightly to your chest, chasing that warmth and the smell that reminds you of the past, of simple mornings in your bed with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and your favorite book. You wonder if you will ever get to experience that, if you will find a place that will allow you to live like you used to.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind you, startles you a little, and he seems to notice.

“Just me.”

You wish you could lose that tension in your body again, but you don’t, knowing that you will have to spend the night with him, that you can’t use excuses to run from him, to avoid him, to avoid talking to him.

He walks around you, glancing at you briefly, he places his rifle down, leaning it against the other free camping chair. You expect him to take a seat, instead he walks away and towards the RV. You watch him curiously, how he carefully opens the door and steps inside on tiptoes, not wanting to wake Nancy and Eddie.

You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward a little. You keep staring at the door, waiting for him to come back out, though when he steps back out, you quickly look down, hiding your curious eyes from him.

You hear the click of the door and his boots against the stairs as he walks down, his feet hit the grass in soft thuds. You hear the rustling of plastic. It sparks your interest again, wondering what he got from the RV but you don’t look up, not until his boots come into your vision and he stands right before you.

Your eyebrows pull together even more, a confused frown making its way onto your face. You tilt your head up to look at him, though your eyes meet his only briefly before the bag in his hand catches your attention and suddenly, all the tension in your body disappears, your lips part and you straighten your back, a little too quickly, causing the blanket to fall from your shoulders.

Steve’s lips curl into a small smile, he tries to hide it but the excitement on your face and how your eyes light up, make it impossible for him to.

"Kitkats!?" You yell in a whisper, trying not to shriek and jump to your feet. “You found Kitkats!?”

He can’t hold back the chuckle now, his chest bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, the last bag, it was stuck between one of the shelves,” he explains, biting his cheek when your eyes look into his. “Your favorite candy… it’s what you were looking for, right?”

Your eyes soften and your lips curl into a small smile. He remembered. He remembered your favorite candy even though it was mentioned only briefly. Warmth floods your chest and something flips in your stomach.

You nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper as you bring up your hand to take the bag from him, “I’ve been looking for them everywhere!”

“Yeah, it nearly got you killed,” Steve shakes his head at you and at your gas station incident before you found your way to Hawkins.

You shrug as you place the bag onto your lap, “now you know how much I love chocolate.”

Steve gives you half a smile and a breathy chuckle, he looks at you for another long moment before he steps back and sits down on the camping chair next to you. He leans back and crosses his feet, staring into the fire.

“Please don’t get yourself killed for chocolate,” he murmurs.

“It’s the only thing that brings me happiness!” You exclaim in that tone that he began to miss.

“Is it really?” He asks you, turning back to look at you. You have got to be the happiest person he has ever met, you always find a reason to smile, you always find something to be excited about, to look forward to, even in a world like this. He can’t relate, not in the slightest.

You look down at the bag of candy, shrugging, “no, you know me. I have a lot of hope.” Your words come out with a saddened look on your face.

Guilt fills him instantly, he judged you for it, he judged you for something that he no longer has. Hope. Life – there is none of that left in him anymore, no light turned on, while yours is still blazing and glowing brightly. Yours didn’t fade, yours hasn’t been touched by the ugliness of this world.

He whispers your name softly, his faint voice so guilt filled.

“It’s good that you have it, that you still have some… life left in you, makes it a bit easier to bear this world.” He admits nervously. “I know you must think I’m a horrible person, I’ve said horrible things–”

“I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Steve,” you interrupt him, turning your head towards him to find him looking at you already, his hazel eyes filled with regret, you know he wishes he could take his words back. “You were hurt and angry, you were grieving.”

He blinks.

“Yeah, but I was an asshole–”

“It’s okay, you apologized, you’re not being an asshole now, that’s what matters.” You shrug, not wanting him to feel bad anymore.

He nods slowly, not moving his eyes away from you. The light from the fire illuminates your face, he sees all the emotions flickering in your eyes, every twitch of your lip, every frown, the softness of your skin, the color of your lips– he catches himself quickly, and instantly forces himself to look away.

“And maybe you can find that hope again…” You add, carefully.

“I doubt that. I never had that in the first place, not even then…” He stops when he catches himself spilling more than he would like to. He turns to you, and you are looking right at him, with a frown on your lips and a curious look in your eyes. You want to know and a part of him wants to talk, to let things out. A part of him even feels like he owes it to you.

He takes a deep breath, looking back into the flames.

“I-I… I feel like a part of me…” He hesitates, struggling to find the right words. “When Robin died, it felt like a part of me was ripped out of my chest and I buried that part with her. The day she died, I died too – only that I am still breathing and she isn’t… I didn’t want to leave Hawkins because I felt like she was still there, like I could be with her. Leaving meant accepting her death, accepting that she is gone, accepting that I am still alive, that I have to find a way to live without her.”

His eyes glisten with tears, his cheeks burn red, illuminated by the flames. He doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t hide the sadness on his face.

You don’t either, you can’t imagine what goes on inside of him, how the sadness eats at him, how the darkness took hold of him.

“I was so angry at myself for not being able to protect her, I was so angry at this world for taking her from me that I grew hateful of everything and everyone, I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want Nancy and Eddie to leave. I now see how selfish that was but in the state I was in, I was just so… mad and unaccepting of the fact that they wanted to live, something that I did not want. I didn’t want to live again. I knew I’d have to the moment I’d step foot outside again, I would have to fight to protect them, I would have to fight for survival, I would be forced to move. I wouldn’t be able to visit her or be with her… ever again.”

Your chest feels tight with grief for him, you can’t imagine what he felt like when he lost her, and even now. You can see how much he is struggling still, the pain in his eyes is so clear, his voice is slightly shaky, like he is about to break into tears again.

He lost someone he loved so dearly. He lost his best friend. You had them too, best friends. But they never stayed that for long, none of them ever loved you the way Steve loved Robin.

You can’t help but wonder if he felt more for her, if it wasn’t only friendship for him.

“Robin was the first person who was my friend not because I was King Steve,” he scoffs at his popular nickname from High School. “She was my friend because she liked me, she was the first person who wanted to get to know me, who wanted to spend time with me, who was there not only on my good days but also on the bad. She loved me for me.” There is a tremble in his voice, a stronger one than before, he is pained, so pained that it hurts your heart.

You don’t know what to say, there are no right words to comfort him, to make him feel better, to take away his pain. He needs this, he needs to talk, to let it out – though you are surprised that he chose to do it with you.

“She was the first person who held me, who comforted me, who was there.” He sniffles, staring down at his shaky hands as he goes back to the day when they were covered in her blood. “I was the last to hold her.”

You blink when you feel your own tears welling up, the warmth stinging in your eyes. You watch how tears start rolling down his cheeks. A part of you wants to wipe them away and take his hand or even hug him, to give him the comfort that he needs. But you doubt that he’d want it from you.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you whisper so sadly that it brings a new wave of tears into his eyes.

His heart feels so heavy, the sadness burning in him, the grief coming back to life once again as he thinks of that night when he lost his best friend, his soulmate, his other half. A moment of weakness and she was gone – it was only a second that he looked away, it was only a split moment that he turned his back before he heard her scream, the pained sound, the ripping of flesh, blood spilling from her neck and staining her clothes and her hand as she clung desperately to the cut in her throat from where the Demogorgon had sliced her skin open. He remembers how he turned around in horror, how his heart stopped beating and the world stopped moving. They almost made it out, they almost made it out of Hawkins together like they always wanted to. Almost. She wasn’t supposed to be the last to get on the bus, it was supposed to be him but he had a child in his arms, a little boy who lost his parents, he needed to get him to safety. Robin was right behind him, she was right there, they were in the clear, she was already one foot inside the bus when that monster came out of nowhere.

He remembers the look in her eyes when he saw what had happened, he remembers the adrenaline that flooded through his body when he jumped out of the bus with an axe in his hand, he doesn’t even remember how he killed it, he only remembers dropping to his knees and pulling her weak body into his arms, he remembers how he promised her.

‘You will be okay, Robin. I promise, you will be okay. I got you, I got you, Birdie.’

But the life in her eyes was fading, tears slipping from the corners and down onto the cold ground, mixing with her blood as he pressed his hand to her wound. She held his hand, gripped it tightly, like she was afraid to let go. She struggled out his name and looked at him with nothing but fear in her eyes, a look that haunts him to this day.

She didn’t want to die, she said so herself, she even begged because she was so afraid, and he was too.

There was nothing he could do, there was no fixing it, there was no saving her. He could only hold her and watch how she died, how she slowly slipped away from him, how in her last remaining moments she only looked at him and into his eyes because that is the only place she found comfort in. She died in the arms of someone she felt at home with, she died in the arms of someone who loved her more than anything and he… he lost that, he lost his home.

When he is done recalling that night, telling you every gory, every heartbreaking detail, he only tastes the saltiness from his tears, feels himself choking up though he doesn’t let the cries fall the way he did that night. He feels his heart hurting once again – though at the same time, it hasn’t felt this alive in a while.

He wipes away his tears, and his voice dies. He doesn’t look to you, not yet but he hears your soft sniffle, hears you shifting around. From the corner of his eye, he watches you put your things down, the mug that must be cold by now and the candy he gave to you. And then, you scoot closer to him and you slowly lift your arm and place your hand on his shoulder, a comforting touch he has grown unfamiliar with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and he notices how shaky your voice is too.

He turns his head slowly, his eyes searching for your own, he sees every emotion – shock, sadness, pain, understanding.

“I can’t imagine this… pain and what you are still going through. Robin deserved better, both of you.” You look back into the fire, frowning. “I understand why you didn’t want to leave, why you feel that way. I’d feel dead if I lost someone I loved that much.”

Your heart hurts for him, squeezing in a painful way. His words sadden you. He feels dead, lost in a world that took away his other half and now he’s just a shell of himself, a pained soul. You wonder if he will ever find his way back to himself, you wonder if you could if you were in his place.

“I do believe that she is with you though, i-if she was your soulmate, then she is with you… forever. She might have left this world but her energy is still there, always with you, following you every step of the way.”

Steve purses his lips, tilting his head at you, “like a guardian angel?”

A small smile appears on your face, you nod, “yeah, kinda. Maybe she will send you a sign, maybe she did already and you haven’t noticed.”

“A sign?” He shakes his head, still looking at you curiously, “like what?”

You shrug and turn to face him again, “you’ll know it, it has to be something that is– was special to you both, whether it’s a song on the radio or her favorite animal.”

“Oh,” he nods, furrowing his eyebrows as he wonders if he had missed any signs, if he was so focused on his grief that he paid no attention to what was going on around him. He falls silent, eyes focused on the flames before him.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper after a long moment of silence.

He leans forward, pressing his hands together over his knees as he fiddles with his fingers, he looks back at you, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Thank you for telling me, for opening up to me, that means a lot.”

He nods, taking in your softened features, your kind eyes that gleam again, and the comforting smile you look at him with. It warms his insides and causes his cheeks to flush but among these reactions, he also feels something else, a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt in so long, he needed to do this, to talk about this, to tell someone what he truly feels.

“Thank you for listening,” he retorts, offering you a smile–a first, a genuine one. Your eyes light up at that, your shoulders rising a bit as you straighten your back, surprise flashes in your features and your smile only widens. It’s endearing, he has to admit that.

“Always.”

You look into each other’s eyes for a moment. You are surprised to see kindness, genuine and real kindness, and you can’t help but feel giddy at that.

You are surprised when he moves closer to you, the smile still lingering on his face. He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I’m gonna be nicer from now on.”

You accepted him for who he is, his grumpiness and his rough demeanor sometimes. You don’t want him to change, you don’t want him to feel like he has to.

“You don’t have to pretend–”

“I am not… I know I’m… kind of returning to who I was… slowly,” he murmurs. It’s something he didn’t want. He didn’t want to heal. He didn’t want to move on because he knew it meant accepting that she was gone but you were right, that night when you found him at her grave, you told him that she wouldn’t want this for him, and he hated it, hated that you were right and he hated how he felt that sparkle inside of him ignite again after he finally allowed himself to properly cry and grieve.

“And who were you?” You asked with that tilt of your head as always.

He knows what Robin would have said and he can’t help but smile.

“... A fucking idiot.”

You giggle at his words but shake your head.

“No, I doubt that!”

“I saw the good in things… something I haven’t in over a year, and now I can– I am starting to feel it again… It’s not there yet but…”

You smile again, looking into the fire. You saw him smiling with Eddie today, heard his chuckle when the metalhead tripped over a log. It was a nice sound and the smile looked good on him.

“Yeah, it looks better on you.” You whisper, not looking away from the flames.

He tries not to look at you for too long but he can’t help it .He likes the way the golden light touches your skin, the way your eyes shine with contentment, the way your body is so relaxed again, something that wasn’t the case the previous nights. He likes the faint dimple on your cheek as you smile. He admires the way your lashes flutter every time you blink, the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, the way you–

He breaks himself out of his thoughts, forcing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat, jumping a bit when he looks down at his backpack, “ah wait–” he grabs it and unzips it quickly, taking out the radio from their living room back in Hawkins. “You guys left it, I thought we could use some music… sometimes.”

You smile widely at him, nodding.

“Let’s see what stations we can pick up.”

While Steve is trying to find a signal, to find a station that plays music, you reach for the second mug you had prepared before and grab the jug where you had cooked the coffee earlier. It’s still hot, steam rising up into the cold air when you pour him a cup. You place the mug on the small camping table that Eddie had set up earlier. Steve flashes you a smile, whispering ‘thank you’ followed by your name.

You open the bag of Kitkat’s, excitement bubbling up in you to taste your favorite candy again. You pick out one of the bars and place it next to his coffee.

“You’re sharing your Kitkats with me? No way!” Steve gasps and chuckles when you roll your eyes in amusement. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, sunshine?”

You giggle at the perplexed look on his face, ignoring the way the nickname made you feel warm all over.

“What if I did?”

“Then I’ll say that one of them,” he points his thumb at the RV, “is a real bad influence on you.”

You snort and shake your head, “hmm, I don’t know. You're sassier than Eddie and Nancy.”

“Me? Sassy!?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, you’re sassy, Steve. Accept it.”

He shakes his head in amusement but doesn’t comment on it, he looks down at the radio when the static noise suddenly disappears and he finds a station.

And surprisingly… ‘Dream a little dream of me’ by Ella Fitzgerald starts playing, filling the space between you.

The song is calm, warm, a distant memory of your father dancing with your mother in the kitchen while they prepared dinner on a sunday afternoon. Then, your brain processed what Steve had said, a question lingering in your lips.

“Why sunshine?”

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed in relaxation as he leans back in his chair. You could see the expanse of his neck, the markings around it, his Adam's apple– You shake your head to focus once again.

“You called me sunshine. Why?” You tilt your head in question and his eyes open, his head turning to face you again.

“I don’t know. You’re just… You just remind me of the sun.” He says as if his words mean nothing, as if his words were just that. Words. You giggle, not understanding the meaning of it.

“The sun? Hot and unbearable?” You say in a joking manner, earning a chuckle from his part, an authentic one. He closed his eyes again, leaning back as the song played along.

“No. Bright and warm.” Your smile fell instantly, not because you didn’t like his definition. Not because you thought that what he described you as was stupid. Not because you thought he was lying to you or making fun of you, because you could hear it in his voice that he wasn’t.

No.

Your smile fell because you swear your heart just skipped a beat.

☀︎

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#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington blurb #grumpy x sunshine

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dilfismz · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Can you write jealous professor dom!cho sangwoo x student sub!reader. Can you make sangwoo become real mad and some spanking too? Thank you so so much 🥹🥹

Mine

Summary: Turns out Professor Cho doesn’t like it when stupid young boys touch what’s his.

A/N: there are a few flashback scenes in order to build a backstory so don’t be confused!

Warnings: age gap, inappropriate teacher/student relationship, spanking, some degradation?, p in v, no prep (Sangwoo is desperate), dom/sub dynamics, and hair pulling.

In all honesty, you and Professor Cho had become close by complete accident. If you could even call it close…more so acquainted. You could recall every detail of your night spent together as if it had just occurred. Every single time you step foot into his lecture hall you can’t help but reminisce.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

The bar was quiet that night, many students in their dorms studying for finals. Luckily for you, yours had concluded in one long, godforsaken day. It was tough but the reward was getting to celebrate the end of the semester early.

Sliding into a seat with your friend you spot him. He was seated a few spots down, leaning casually against the bar. He looked out of place in his crisp, tailored shirt and sharp jawline—older than most of the patrons and far more composed. His presence seemed to draw attention without trying, though he didn’t seem interested in anyone else around him.

You weren’t sure why you caught his eye, but you did. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke, his deep voice cutting through the noise.

“Not a regular here, are you?”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Does it show?”

“Just a little,” he said, taking a sip from his glass. “You seem…young for this crowd.”

The comment made your cheeks flush slightly, but you held his gaze. “Maybe. But you don’t exactly blend in yourself.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and moved to sit closer. “Fair enough. I’m Sangwoo.”

You gave your name, and from there, the conversation flowed with surprising ease. You told him about your studies, your aspirations, and the stress that had driven you here tonight. He listened intently, asking thoughtful questions that felt more probing than casual small talk.

“I have to say,” he murmured at one point, leaning in just slightly, “I don’t usually find myself talking like this with someone… your age.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Maybe age doesn’t matter as much as you think.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and undeniable. When he suggested leaving, you didn’t hesitate.

The night blurred into stolen kisses in the cab, whispered words, and the heat of his hands on your skin. You fell into his bed with reckless abandon, the difference in your years forgotten in the haze of passion.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, forcing your eyes open. The unfamiliar room was quiet, save for the soft sound of breathing beside you.

You turned your head to see Sangwoo lying on his back, his arm resting over his eyes. The sharp lines of his face were softened by the light, but there was a tension in his expression that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

He let out a soft sigh, finally lowering his arm to look at you. His eyes were darker now, clouded with something that felt like regret.

“This… probably shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice low.

The words stung, even though you’d expected them. “Why not?”

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You’re young. Too young to be tangled up with someone like me.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a firmness to it that made your stomach twist.

You sat up too, pulling the sheet around you. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

“That was a mistake,” he said, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “I should’ve known better.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the warmth of the night before replaced with a cold, sinking feeling. You wanted to say something, to argue that you were old enough to make your own decisions, but the look on his face stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, standing and reaching for his shirt. “You’re… incredible. But this can’t happen again.”

As he moved about the room, dressing and avoiding your gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever been more than a fleeting distraction to him.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

Another thing you always thought of when you’d step into Professor Cho’s room is the moment you’d realized just how disastrous your night together actually was.

The first day of the new semester carried the usual energy—a mix of fresh starts and quiet dread. Students milled into the lecture hall, some chatting excitedly, others scrolling through their phones or sipping lukewarm coffee. You were somewhere in the middle, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped into the massive room.

You hadn’t given much thought to your schedule beyond the requirements you needed to fill. This class—some upper-level finance course you had reluctantly signed up for—was just another stepping stone toward your degree. You were more concerned with surviving the workload than anything else.

That was, until you looked up.

Your heart nearly stopped.

There, standing at the podium, flipping through a stack of papers with an air of quiet authority, was him.

Cho Sangwoo.

Your throat went dry.

For a second, you thought you had to be mistaken. But there was no mistaking him—not the sharp jawline, not the dark, intelligent eyes that had lingered on you once in the glow of a streetlamp, not the hands you could still feel on your skin if you let your mind wander too far.

You froze mid-step, the chatter of the other students fading into white noise. The last time you’d seen him, he had been pulling his shirt over his head in a dimly lit bedroom, his words clipped, his expression guarded.

“This can’t happen again.”

And yet, here you were.

And here he was.

As if sensing your gaze, Sangwoo glanced up from his notes.

The reaction was instant.

His confident posture faltered, his fingers tightening slightly around the edges of his papers. His brows lifted just barely before his eyes widened in unmistakable shock. You saw the exact moment recognition hit him, watched the composed, professional mask he undoubtedly wore every day crack—just for a second.

A blush rose to his face.

It was slight, barely there, but enough for you to notice. Enough for you to know that despite his careful words that morning, despite whatever lines he had drawn in his mind between you, the sight of you standing in his lecture hall had caught him completely off guard.

The confident, articulate professor—who had surely done this a thousand times, who commanded rooms full of students without hesitation—had lost his composure.

Your stomach twisted.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like you were back in that dimly lit bar, your bodies too close, your words laced with the kind of reckless flirtation that had led to this. The memory burned through you so suddenly that you were sure it showed on your face.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, you watched him shove it back down.

Sangwoo cleared his throat sharply, turning his attention back to his papers. The color in his face faded as he schooled his expression into something unreadable, his professional demeanor snapping back into place like a steel trap.

But you had seen it.

You had felt it.

And now, you had to sit through an entire semester pretending it had never happened.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to move, slipping into a seat near the middle of the lecture hall. Around you, students continued their chatter, completely unaware of the silent war raging inside your head—or his.

Sangwoo took a breath, straightened his tie, and finally spoke. His voice was steady, controlled.

“Good morning. Welcome to Financial Strategies.”

If you hadn’t seen the way his hands curled slightly against the podium, you might have believed he was completely unaffected.

But you had seen it.

And you weren’t sure either of you would be able to ignore it.

That day, after class ended you sat frozen in your seat, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk as if that could steady the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

Sangwoo hadn’t looked at you once throughout the entire lecture.

Not directly, at least.

Instead, his eyes had skimmed over you like you were just another student, his voice measured, his posture rigid. But there were moments—fleeting, barely-there moments—where his fingers tensed slightly on the podium, where his breath hitched in the smallest, most imperceptible way before he forced himself forward.

And now, as you remained seated while the rest of the students shuffled out, he still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Stay after,” he had said near the end of class, his voice neutral, yet somehow sharp.

You knew this conversation was coming. There was no avoiding it.

Sangwoo stood by his desk now, organizing papers that didn’t need organizing, straightening his laptop screen only to close it again. It was almost frustrating—watching him fidget with anything but you.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“If you wish to remain in this class,” he started, his voice clipped, “you will forget about what happened between us.”

You swallowed, gripping your bag strap tightly, but said nothing.

He continued, his expression carefully blank, though you could see the tension in his jaw. “It was… inappropriate. A mistake.” His fingers curled around the edge of his desk, the only sign that his control wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be. “And it cannot affect your education.”

Your throat felt tight.

He was speaking to you as though that night had been some careless accident, as though it hadn’t been charged with something real. And yet, even as he spoke, his voice was too deliberate, too forced, like he was convincing himself as much as he was convincing you.

But you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

Your gaze dropped to his hands—the same slender hands that had once roamed your body, tracing paths of fire along your skin.

You could still feel them if you thought about it long enough. The way they had tangled in your hair, how his fingertips had brushed over your bare waist with aching slowness, how they had tightened possessively around your wrist just before he kissed you—

“Are you listening?”

Your head snapped up.

Sangwoo was watching you now, his brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before crossing his arms. “Good,” he muttered. “Because I can’t have distractions in my classroom. Whatever… that was, it’s over. Understood?”

His words were cruelly impersonal, but his body language betrayed him. The stiffness of his shoulders, the way he seemed almost restless standing still, as if part of him wanted to move, to do something else.

You wondered if he was remembering it, too.

The weight of him pressing you into the mattress. The way he had looked at you, his usual self-control slipping with every kiss, every touch.

You sat up a little straighter, ignoring the pang in your chest. “Understood,” you said quietly, though the words felt like a lie.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His fingers tapped once against the desk. Then again.

Then, as if snapping himself out of something, he turned away, collecting his things with more force than necessary. “You’re dismissed,” he said, not looking at you.

You hesitated.

But there was nothing left to say.

So you grabbed your bag and walked toward the door, feeling his eyes on your back even though he had told himself not to look.

————-

Now here you are today and you have done exactly what Sangwoo asked.

For months, you kept your distance, pretending as though nothing had ever happened between you. No lingering glances, no hesitation when he called on you in class, no trace of the night you had spent tangled in his sheets. You became cold, detached—indifferent.

And it was driving him insane.

At first, he convinced himself that this was what he wanted. That this was the right thing.

But then Jisoo happened.

A boy your age. Bright-eyed, eager, always quick with a joke that made you laugh—actually laugh. You had never laughed like that in his class before. Not when you were with him.

Sangwoo ignored it at first.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Soft whispers shared between the two of you, your heads leaning close as if nothing else in the room existed. His blood simmered every time Jisoo touched your arm, every time he caught you smiling at him—every time he saw you looking at Jisoo the way you used to look at him.

But today was the worst of it.

Today, Jisoo had whispered something in your ear, and your face had gone warm—cheeks flushed, lips parting just slightly in surprise before you giggled.

Sangwoo gripped his pen so hard it nearly snapped.

The moment class ended, his voice cut through the murmurs of students packing up their things.

“Stay after.”

Jisoo glanced at you, curious. You barely reacted, nodding as you finished gathering your notes.

The last student filtered out.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Sangwoo remained standing at the front of the classroom, bracing his hands against the desk, his head tilted downward. You could see the tension in him—the way his fingers curled, the way his breaths left him in slow, controlled exhales.

You knew this was coming.

You waited.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Tell me,” his voice was low, measured. “Do you plan to seduce him the way you seduced me?”

Your heart stuttered.

The accusation hung heavy between you, thickening the air, making it harder to breathe.

“What?”

Sangwoo lifted his gaze, and for the first time in months, his carefully constructed mask had cracked.

No indifference. No feigned professionalism. Only raw frustration—barely-restrained jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

He took a step forward, slow and deliberate.

“You heard me,” he murmured, his voice dark. “Is that your plan? To make him desperate for you? To make him think, even for a second, that he can satisfy you the way I did?”

Heat pooled in your stomach, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “That’s not—”

He scoffed. “Not what?” Another step forward. “Not true? You don’t think I see the way he looks at you? The way you let him lean into you, whisper in your ear?”

His jaw clenched.

“Do you think he can touch you like I did?” His voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper. “Think he can even attempt to please you?”

Your breath hitched.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles whitening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you forced out.

His lips quirked up—not in amusement, but something far crueler.

“Liar.”

Your stomach flipped.

You hated how easily he unraveled you.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t care,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I told myself I wouldn’t.”

You swallowed hard.

“But then I see you with him,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I see you laughing, smiling, and I—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as if disgusted by the confession sitting on his tongue.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“You’ve been punishing me,” he murmured. “All these months, Ive been trying to forget, trying to pretend it never happened—but it did. And here you are pulling this shit right in front of me.”

His fingers twitched.

“And it still matters to you…”, you intended to ask but it came out more like a statement.

Sangwoo inhaled sharply, and before you could react, his hand shot out—grasping your wrist.

Your breath caught.

His fingers, long and slender, wrapped around your skin. Not tight. Not pulling. Just holding.

A mistake.

A reckless, dangerous mistake.

But neither of you moved to stop it.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, his voice lower, almost pained. “I broke the rules for you once.”

Your throat went dry.

His fingers slid down, tracing your palm before hesitantly releasing you.

Then, barely above a whisper—so quiet you almost missed it—he admitted:

“I think I’d break them again.”

Your stomach clenched.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, looking at you as if he were already regretting saying it out loud. But it was there now. It couldn’t be unsaid.

For the first time in months, he wasn’t telling you to forget.

He wasn’t telling you to leave.

Instead, his voice was quiet. Measured. Unsteady.

“Stay, it’s your turn to be punished.”

You take a tentative step in his direction, testing the waters. Sangwoo blinks slowly, looking you up and down, “You stay there”, he commands while walking to the lecture hall door. He locks it with a flick of his wrist and returns.

He sits on his chair behind the large desk he often spends hours sitting at. He spreads his thighs, patting them expectantly.

You take this as a sign to straddle him but he immediately grunts in dissatisfaction. “No, bend over my knees, face down ass up”.

You flush at the command, all self respect fleeing your body as you comply without a second thought.

Tch tch

He clicks his tongue mockingly, all while lifting your skirt up to expose your plump ass, barely covered by a tiny thong.

“Now did you wear this for me or him”, Sangwoo asks, a scowl etched onto his features.

“You Sangwoo, always for you-”, before you could finish your sentence a loud smack echoes throughout the lecture room. Before you can even register the pain another red hot slap lands on your bottom, leaving you breathless.

“It’s sir”, he commands, a shit eating grin already overtaking his features.

“Y-yes sir”, you respond.

“Good fucking slut, finally you do something right. Maybe I should’ve done this right away, then we never would have had that silly little problem huh?”

You simply nod, his words going in one ear and out the other. Sangwoo pulls your hair harshly, forcing your head back to look at him.

“Speak when you’re spoken to”, he commands, his other hand landing another firm slap to your stinging ass.

“Yes sir-“, you moan as he kneeds the sensitive flesh, “-wish you would’ve done this sooner.”

He nods in approval, forcing you off of his legs and pushing you against his desk.

You can hear him unbuckle his belt and all but shake with anticipation. You’ve waited oh so long to feel him again.

Suddenly his swollen tip is prodding at your entrance, your thong pulled to the side. Sangwoo lets out a heavy sigh and declares, “I’ve waited way too damn long to do this again…now tell me have you been whoring around campus or is the last time your pussy got stretched with me?”

“Y-you sir, haven’t done anything since that night”, you splutter out, backing up into him, hoping he’ll just push in already.

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear”, he says right before completely bottoming out in one harsh thrust.

Sangwoo doesn’t start out gentle, he keeps thrusting into you slowly but oh so roughly. You swear you can feel him reaching spots even he didn’t hit last time.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his hands grip your hips with a bruising force. He scoffs at your desperate mewls, “I won’t last long sweetheart so you’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful, ya?”

“Yes sir”

Sangwoo can feel his glasses slipping down his nose as his pace quickens. The entire room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and its filthy.

“Please don’t stop sir I’m close”, you beg as you feel that all too familiar feeling within you.

He doesn’t stop. His hands gripping you even tighter as he grits his teeth, cock twitching as your gummy walls suck him in.

“Fuck, it’s like this pussy was made for me, can’t believe I stayed away for so long”, he gasps out.

That’s all the praise you needed to reach your peak. Your walls spasm around Sangwoo and he continues his assault on your insides, coming to an abrupt stop as you feel his warm seed fill you up.

The both of you are a panting mess and he runs his hands through his own hair, pushing him glasses back up his nose.

When Sangwoo finally pulls out he sighs and looks at your pathetic form in front of him.

“Clean yourself up and we’ll have a serious conversation about how this arrangement is gonna work.”

#x reader #squid game 2 #squid game #cho sangwoo #cho sang woo #cho sangwoo x reader #x reader smut #professor au #park haesoo #hwang inho #smut #teacher student #dilfs are real #berlin #money heist korea #money heist #seong gihun #sae byeok

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kyokutsu-sama · 1 year ago

Note

oohhh!! yami and reader get into a argument and reader decides to sleep on the couch. yami can't sleep without her cuz he's a clingy baby so he begs her to come into bed

Omg, this one was such a cute request and fluff writing It's been my weakness lately❤️🤧

I'm in my ✨️Fluff era✨️

_____________________________

All the members of the black bulls, who that night, instead of supposedly being asleep, had their ears were wide open to hear the argument coming from the captain's room.

Everyone knew about your relationship and how you were always together and after of what their were hearing now, they got worried. Finral was even heartbroken to witness that, he didn't like seeing a couple argue at all, given that he was a romantic man...despite being a womanizer.

"Are these two going to break up today? No, it can't be. That would be terrible." He thought as his heart raced with anxiety

"But why are you being so stubborn?! Damn woman, you're a problem when you get mad!" The captain said, as he sat on the bed with a long sigh

"A problem? Well, in that case, I won't say anything else so as not to disturb you." You picked up the pillow and the blanket and he looked at you

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" He asked, standing up

"I'm going to sleep on the couch. Good night Yami Sukehiro!" You said goodbye to him with a hilarious smile, that quickly faded away when you turned your back on him and slammed the door

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, YOU IDIOT! GOOD NIGHT TO YOU TOO!" He went into the hallway and shouted back but you just gave him the middle finger. "What an insensitive woman!" He grumbled

When the captain turned around, all the squad members were looking at him, wanting some explanation for what had happened but he was too angry to say anything at that moment.

"Where the fuck are you guys looking at? Go to the bed now!" He ordered and everyone ran to their respective bedroom

At first, overcome by pride, he just lay down on the bed to try to sleep but the truth is that the captain couldn't sleep a wink all night. He missed the warmth of his beloved in his arms, he loved sleeping hugging you, no matter if it was summer and you were dying of heat in his arms, he didn't move an inch while sleeping.

He went around and around but nothing seemed to ease that pain in his heart, he knew he had messed up, he just didn't know how to get to you to apologize. Yami sat on the bed and took a deep breath before getting up and going to the living room to get you.

He came across your figure falling asleep so well on the couch that he even hesitated to wake you up.

He knelt next to you and ran a hand over your face while you slept, you felt the touch of his hand and opened your eyes to see him right there by your side. You knew he had regretted it bitterly.

"What do you want?" You asked with a sleepy and low voice, still carrying some resentment from the argument, moments ago

"The bed is cold without you, you know?" He whispered. "I'm really sorry for being an jerk to you and saying those stupid things, you didn't deserve to hear that." His voice showed regret and a desire for reconciliation

"Yeah, Yami, you were really a jerk."

"I'm sorry, baby, please..." He placed his forehead against yours as he apologized as one of his hands held yours. "Do you forgive this jerk here?" He joked and you couldn't contain a small smile, even though you tried not to

"Fine, I'll do it, don't cry anymore." You teased, getting up from the couch, still half asleep."Besides, it was just a stupid argument."

"I promise it won't happen again."The captain hugged you for a moment and picked you up, lifting you from the couch."Let's go to sleep together because it's too cold to sleep without you." He said, carrying you to the bed

"What do you mean 'cold'? You're completely naked!" You laughed

"But without you, my heart gets cold and soon after, my body gets cold too, got it?" Yami explained and you rolled your eyes

"Yeah, I see...So it means that I'm your blanket, is that it?"

"Something like that." He placed you on the bed and lay down next to you, putting an arm around you and hugging you tightly

"You're being to clingy to me today, I didn't expect a big guy like you to be so cute." You joked

"How not? I'm a man with a good heart!" He replied but you laughed

"Yeah, yeah, it doesn't even seem like you threatens to kill your squad members, every single day."

"I'm just fulfilling my role as captain, any objections?"

"Negative, captain."

"Good," He placed a few kisses on your nape and neck, snuggling there. "But for now, I just want to sleep with you in my arms and I want you as close to me as possible." He pressed you against him

"Even more?! You're almost inside me!" You said, trying to move away from the grip of his huge arms

"Well...I'm not inside of you but if you want it, why not?" He teases and you push him away

"Yami, I'm going to the couch again!"

"Oh no, you won't, I won't let you go again." He wrapped his arms around you and reached your lips to give you a peck. "You belong with me, not on the couch."

"Alright, Mr. Big Guy, you win. I'll stay, but don't push your luck, you hear?"

"Always at my princess orders... and good night to you."

"For you too."

#black clover #black clover x reader #black clover x y/n #black clover fandom #black clover anime #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro #fluff #fluff/confort #fluff imagine #anime imagines #anime writing blog

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edenunbuilt · 4 months ago

Text

── ϧ𝑒 packing it up.ೃ࿔

℘ jj maybank x fem!kook!reader ৴ length: 0.6k ৴ time of posting: 9:48pm

summary: y/n holds jj through the night. it's kinda new for him

content: sfw ﾉ soft!jj ﾉ not proof read ﾉ kook reader

author's notes: see end for notes

jj never stayed the night. that was the rule.

no cuddling. no waking up in tangled sheets. no letting someone look at him like he was worth sticking around for.

and yet, here he was.

her room was nothing like the places he was used to crashing, he can accept that much as his gaze flickers over the delicate and antique furniture. it smelled like lavender and something sweeter, something distinctly her. soft, warm, untouched by the sharp edges of the world he knew. the kind of place that didn’t feel temporary.

he should’ve left hours ago. should’ve done what he always did—made some dumb joke, thrown on his shirt, and disappeared before the sun could catch him still wrapped up in her.

but he couldn’t.

not when she had looked at him like that.

she should’ve turned him away. when he showed up at her door, bloody and exhausted, she should’ve done the smart thing and shut him out. should’ve decided, right then and there, that his baggage wasn’t worth it.

instead, she just sighed—like she’d been expecting this. like she wasn’t surprised that he had nowhere else to go.

and then she pulled him inside.

she didn’t press him for details. didn’t flinch when he winced under her touch, just guided him to the bathroom and stood between his legs, dabbing at his split lip with careful fingers. she was so close. close enough that he could see the worry knitting her brows together, the softness in her eyes, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when he hissed at the sting.

jj should’ve made a joke—damn, princess, if you wanted to get me undressed, you could’ve just asked. something stupid to make her roll her eyes, to shake off whatever was shifting between them. but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have anything to say, the words catching in his throat.

because she wasn’t looking at him with pity. or judgment. or regret.

she was looking at him like he was worth keeping.

and it hit him then, like a sucker punch to the gut.

somewhere along the way, he had stopped keeping his distance.

it hadn’t happened all at once. it had been in the little things—the moments he hadn’t realized mattered until it was too late.

like the first time he made her laugh, really laugh. the kind that made her throw her head back, eyes crinkling, completely unguarded. he remembered staring, thinking: shit, i want to hear that again.

or the night she found him at a party, already too many drinks deep and buzzing with the need to self-destruct. he’d made a move on her, fully expecting her to let him. she didn’t. just pulled his drink from his hand, wrinkled her nose, and told him he was embarrassing himself. then, instead of leaving, she hooked her pinky with his and told him to come sit.

she never gave him what he expected.

never pushed his buttons, never bit back when he tried to start something just to keep from feeling too much. she just let him be. let him breathe.

and that was new.

jj rolled onto his side, gaze settling on her, curled up next to him in the dim glow of her bedroom. her fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his ribs, like she was making sure he was still there.

he was.

and that was the problem.

because jj had spent his whole life running. keeping people at arm’s length, never staying long enough to make it hurt when he left. but now—god, now he wasn’t sure if he could leave at all.

he was in too deep.

and for the first time, he didn’t want to find his way out.

𐙚𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

author's notes: this is a fair warning that most of my works will most likely be kook!reader. i write to escape my not so glamourous life and if i wanted to daydream about being poor, i wouldn't write in the first place. anywayssss i do have an in-progress fic that involves an oc and i'm not sure if i'll just rewrite it to be self-insert or if i'll post it as is. all my drabbles come from snippets of said fic and would make much more sense if we started from the beginning lol.

#ಌ signed with love #edenunbuilt.ᐟ 𐙚˙⋆✶#jj maybank x reader #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj fanfiction #jj imagine #jj fluff #jj maybank x female reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx fanfiction #gen is feeling soft #jj maybank my beloved

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vanillarosekiss · 3 months ago

Text

stepdad!john | punishments

aaaand we're back to using capitals because i've figured out that i type differently on my mac compared to on my phone LMAOOO. also figured i should write for john since most posts have been abt simon recently.

warnings: taboo themes (clearly) however all consenting!!!, bratty!reader gets humiliated, impact play, overstimulation, degradation towards the end, john being mean, and many other things i cannot think of!

word count: 0.9k

(ps. went to type 'count' and accidentally typed 'cunt' sighh.. it made me giggle)

You knew it was going to come to this one way or another. You'd been testing his patience all day, relentlessly. Rolling your eyes when he speaks, mumbling silly incoherent replies under your breath, and snapping back with rude quips every time he asked you to do something. Maybe you were having a bad day. Maybe you just didn't care. Whatever it was, John noticed straight away, and he didn't appreciate it at all.

He tried to keep his patience. Tried to give you a chance. Warned you once. Then twice. But he knew you didn't care; you were going to push him to his absolute limits.

It struck a nerve when you'd mumbled something like "It's not like you're my real dad, quit bossing me around." Whewww... the minute that left your lips you knew you'd regret it. He'd heard, of course, and that was his final straw.

"Come here. Now." he said, before you started to walk away from him.

You hesitated - just for a second - but there was something wired in your brain that made your legs move to him before your brain could think and catch up. Maybe subconsciously, this is what you wanted. Either way, you were totally fucked.

You stood in front of him, arms crossed like you had something to prove. Fake confidence. He wasn't stupid, he could tell. That defiance you tried to mimic? It only made him smirk, knowing that you were really the complete opposite of what you tried to show yourself as.

"Got a real smart mouth on you today, hmm?" he started, his voice low and in control. "What did I tell you would happen if you kept talking back?"

You shrugged. Acted like he was taking up the most valuable 5 minutes of your day to lecture you in behaviour.

He raised a brow slightly. "I said I'd teach you a lesson. And you didn't believe me, did you?"

Before you could even answer, he grabbed your wrist, tight but not too hard, and pulled you down firmly over his lap. It somehow felt like a familiar territory, like he'd done this before. The way he held you down was so solid that all you could do was squirm and protest.

"You're not my real dad," you mock yet again, mouth muffled by his large bicep.

He flipped your tennis skirt up so you were exposed, the fabric of your tiny thong being the only thing that covered your cunt. His hand came down suddenly on your ass, hard and sharp. You gasped, the stinging feeling unexpected.

"You don't get to act like a brat all day and then try to dissmiss it," he almost growled, his frustration working himself up. "You want to play grown-up, you'll get treated like one, and you'll take your punishment like one."

Another slap. Then another. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep stinging so much that your breath fell heavier and you couldn't stop yourself from squirming.

"Count," he commanded.

You stayed quiet. Big mistake.

Smack. One that was harder this time, you felt yourself jolt forwards in his lap upon impact.

"Fine," you hissed. "One."

Smack.

"T- two," you gritted your teeth together, knowing it would only get worse if you didn't do exactly as he said.

He kept going, slow and measured. Not only did he spank you, but he also lectured you at the same time, his voice low and close to your ear.

"You think I don't notice the way you try to push me? Tryin' to get my attention like a needy little girl, hm?"

His hand stroked between your thighs, trailing up towards your now soaked panties, a little too high. He laughed when he felt the dampness of your skin.

"Look at ya," he murmured, fingers toying with the thong. "Bratty all day just because you wanted this? Wanted daddy to fuck you? Could've asked nicely."

You first blushed in embarrassment, and then glared at him for mocking you.

"Maybe I just like pissing you off." A challenge.

He chuckled, seeing straight through you. "Yeah?"

One arm wrapped around your waist, his hand slipped underneath the fabric, fingers sliding across your slit.

He almost groaned in victory. "Soaked. And all I've done is spank you. Filthy girl, aren't ya?"

You whimpered as he pressed down just enough on your aching bud, fingers still teasing you. He rubbed slow, cruel circles before dipping inside. The strech of his fingers made your hips buck, but he pushed you down, tightening his grip on your waist.

"Stay still. You don't get to come until I tell you to."

You tried. You really tried. But the pressure, the humiliation, the way he was watching you. It was sending you into overdrive.

"John- please-"

His fingers curled a little more as you said his name like that, all whiny. "You beg so pretty when you're not mouthing off," he muttered, fingers moving stronger inside you. "What do you want, baby? Wan' to come on my hand like a good girl?"

You nod frantically, but he tsks you, slowing his movements to an agonising pace.

"Gotta use your words. Hardly being a good girl right now."

"I wanna come," you whine again. "Please, John, I-I'll be so good."

The tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes out of sheer desperation and overstimulation may have eventually softened him up. Or they may have not.

there's a link that would go so perfect with this but i cant find it :(

update… i found the gif and not the link:

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @bittersweetfig @mlthree @cupidswan @siphon07 @decaffeinateddelusionbread

#john price smut #captain john price #cod men #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #smut #john price #price cod #price x reader #pure smut #vanillarosekiss #⋆˙⟡ 🎞️#⋆˙⟡ 🍰

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Bane of My Existence - A QZ Joel Miller One Shot

You and Joel Miller have never gotten along, always at odds whether working together or avoiding each other. But when a smuggling job goes bad, you discover that there might be more to his harsh demeanor than meets the eye.

Pairing: QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Joel is bad with emotions; hurt/comfort; canon typical violence; injury that's probably poorly handled because I don't medicine; vague threat of SA (not by Joel, not made to reader); unprotected vaginal sex. Joel carries reader but look... My Joels are all 6'5" and strong as hell, especially in life threatening situations. Man can carry anybody. I'm in love with him because he's a big strong man. No description of reader.

Length: 8.9k (sorry)

A/N: A lil one shot gift for my beautiful bestie @dundienominee :)

Full Masterlist | AO3

“Hell no.”

Of course Joel Miller said hell no to working with you. Of course he did.

You weren’t surprised at Joel’s reaction when his smuggling partner, Tess, brought you to their safe house in the QZ. He’d never been the president of your fan club.

“Joel,” she sighed.

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not bringin’ her anywhere, she’s a goddamn liability.”

“Joel,” she said again, sterner this time.

You, however, just smirked, watching him pace and glare at you, his face getting flushed as he did.

“She takes stupid fuckin’ risks,” Joel said. “She’s cocky, she’s…”

“Saved your ass from infected?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

You knew you were adding fuel to the fire. Tess glared at you for it. Your smirk grew.

“Wouldn’t have been near the fuckin’ infected if it weren’t for you,” he snapped. “Not. Goin. With. Her.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Tess said, standing up a little straighter and crossing her arms, staring her partner down. “She’s the one with the contact, they agreed to two people meeting them and she has to be one of them…”

“How the hell’d you make a contact?” Joel turned his full attention to you, his eyes molten hot and angry. “Anyone you touch ends up fuckin’ dead…”

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped before you regained your composure. “Don’t get pissy with me because big bad Joel Miller isn’t the top of the smuggling heap in the QZ…”

“I ain’t pissy!”

“…Not the top of the heap in anything at all, really…”

“That’s it!” Joel stalked over, looking like he wanted to slug you. Instead, he just put his finger in your face, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes. “You think I’m doin’ a goddamn thing with you…”

“You don’t have a choice, Texas,” Tess came and stood beside you, her arms crossed as she looked to Joel. “You burned the bridge we had with the FEDRA officer I need to buy off to get our next round of pills inside, I can’t go on this run because I have to deal with the mess you made when you couldn’t keep your shit together. We want to actually be set before shit gets snowed in for winter? We need her connection. So. You’re going, you’re leaving tonight, and you’re not going to fuck this up. Got it?”

His jaw tightened.

“Got it.”

“Good,” she looked to you. “Your contact knows you’re coming?”

“They do,” you said, serious now and completely ignoring the wall of muscle who was still standing uncomfortably close to you. “The walk back is going to fucking suck but it should be worth it. Good with the split?”

“Good might be a strong word for 60/40,” Tess said, shaking her head a little but grinning all the same. “But I’ll take it.” She looked between you and Joel. “Trusting you two to not kill each other out there. Don’t make me regret it. See you in a few days.”

She left the two of you there in the threadbare apartment without another word, Joel’s glare practically drilling a hole into your skull.

“Together again, eh Miller?” You smirked at him.

He didn’t respond. He just went and sat heavily on the worn couch before lying down and closing his eyes.

“What, didn’t get enough sleep?” You asked, going and standing over him.

“Slept fine,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just would rather spend the few hours we have before we leave the QZ not listenin’ to you.”

You rolled your eyes but took a moment to look at Joel when he wasn’t glaring at you.

It was a rare occurrence, seeing him when he wasn’t scowling and pissed. He let himself relax down into the cushions and the lines in his face eased. As much as you hated to admit it - and you did hate it - Joel was beautiful. Frustratingly so. What’s worse, he’d somehow gotten better looking in the years you’d known him. Jerk.

You’d first met him before you came to the QZ, almost 10 years ago now. You were holed up in your own little corner of Boston, doing your best to stay out of the way of FEDRA, infected and raiders alike.

It was basically a full-time job, even more so since you’d become the last person standing. A job that you failed at the day you met Joel Miller.

And, as much as he liked to blame you for it, he was the one who showed up in your corner of town. You’d been napping through the worst of the afternoon heat in mid-July when you heard a clatter: someone tripped one of your alarms.

“Fuckin’…”

He swore loud enough that you heard him from your perch and you watched him shake glass out of the wrinkles of his shirt.

“Someone’s here,” the second man said, much quieter. “That ain’t no accident…”

The two men moved slowly, cautiously, their rifles raised as they searched for whoever it was who set that trap. When you thought they were far enough away, you started to move, slowly and quietly, going to sneak up on them and take them out before they could do the same to you.

But as you drew close, you heard it. The clicking.

You gasped, close enough to the strange men that they heard it and close enough to the clickers that they did, too.

“Move!” The larger man snapped out of his moment of shock first, shooting forward and grabbing you and throwing you to the side before shooting at the incoming infected. You scrambled to get back up, fumbling to get the knife you’d been readying to thrust into that man’s back.

It turned out, you didn’t need it. At least, not for the infected. The two men made quick work of the clickers and turned to you, your knife raised and ready to take at least one of them down with you.

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” The larger man said instead.

“The fuck do you think?” You snapped. “Go on, do it! Kill me, take my shit, whatever it is you’re going to do…”

“Don’t much like killing women,” he said, looking to the other man, their guns still in hand but pointed to the ground. They looked alike, these two. Like they could be related.

“What, because I’m a woman you think I’m not a threat?” You asked, brows raised before realizing that you probably shouldn’t be egging on the large, armed men in front of you.

“Not really, princess,” the younger man said, voice teasing, and you considered throwing your knife at him.

“Should count yourself lucky that we don’t,” the older man said. “Why don’t you come with us, out pickin’ up just a few things and then headin’ back to the QZ…”

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because I really wanna live under fucking FEDRA.”

“Guessing you want to live,” he said. “Got news for you, princess. Even we’re steerin’ clear of this area of Boston after this. Lot more infected than we bargained for. Your little hideout ain’t gonna be safe much longer. Assuming you want to keep on living, QZ’s your best bet.”

“And you’re just, what, inviting me along out of the goodness of your heart?” You scoffed. “Please.”

“Don’t much like killing women and don’t much like leaving people to die, either,” the other man said. “Seem capable enough. Come with us, at least out of this part of the city. Would rather not have you added to the infected population.”

You ground your teeth for a moment, considering. They could easily over power you. You were out numbered, out gunned and they were both large and strong.

But… you had been noticing more and more infected lately. You hadn’t left your hideout in almost two weeks and you were low on supplies. Part of the reason you hadn’t dared venture out in so long was the seemingly constant press of infected you could see from the best vantage points in your building. You’d been starting to worry that you wouldn’t have a good opportunity to leave for supplies again. And, if you did, you were starting to worry your home would be overrun when you got back.

These two were the closest thing you had to a safe option out.

So, you took it. The pair introduced themselves and you were right, they were related. Joel and Tommy Miller, smugglers who lived inside the Boston QZ. They were strong, smart, capable. Handsome, too, not that it really mattered. What mattered much more was your ability to keep each other alive.

And, it turned out, you were useful to them. Enough that they wanted you around as help for other runs outside the QZ. It made sense, you knew certain corners of the QZ better than anyone else seemed to. It had been your territory - at least, in some way - for a long time.

Then, it happened. You’d taken to calling it ‘the incident’ for lack of any better word. You were out on a smuggling run with Joel and another man, Harvey. In spite of the fact that you’d been working together for years, Joel had never really warmed up to you. He tolerated you at best and it seemed like growling was his preferred form of communication where you were involved but you always made it back to the QZ in one piece when you went out together. You watched each other’s backs - you were proud that your kill count was higher than his and that you were almost positive he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you.

The three of you were at the edge of the city, heading to rendezvous with someone from a small settlement in New York State when you heard it, the first, distinctive shriek of infected.

Suddenly, there were dozens of them, maybe more than 100, far more than you were capable of handling even if you had unlimited ammunition.

And, like a fool, you froze.

You’d scouted ahead and saw no signs of them, no indication of anything more than one or two strays that had been ambling around. You had no idea where they’d come from or how they’d come to be here but that didn’t matter. They were here, they were bearing down on you and you couldn’t seem to make your body move, the shock of the sight making you completely shut down.

It was Joel who saved you.

“Move!” He’d grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and thrown you behind him as he fired at the infected, pressing back as quickly as he could while laying down cover fire. Harvey joined him, their guns up and blazing as you tried to force your body to listen to you. “Fucking run!”

Your limbs decided to obey then and you moved as quickly as you could, turning and firing behind you when it felt like you had a moment to spare.

But you misjudged that moment once. Just once, but that’s all it took. Infected were closer behind you than you realized and Joel dove in between you and the reaching, groping thing.

“Joel!” You shrieked, desperately trying to get a shot off that wouldn’t hit Joel as he strained to hold back the runner who was snarling near his throat. You were about to shoot when Harvey tackled the creature, knocking it off of Joel but into the mass of infected that was closing in quickly.

They swarmed him and he screamed and you took aim as Joel scrambled to his feet. He shoved you on before you could fire and you stretched to shoot around him but he nearly threw you away from the swarming monsters and your screaming companion.

“He’s gone!” Joel yelled as you stared at him, aghast. “He’s gone, we have to fucking move, now go!”

You kept turning, looking back toward the sound of the snarling and the screams.

“We have to go back!” you said. “We can’t just leave him like that, we have to at least shoot him we can’t just leave him, we…”

“You should’ve thought of that before you fucked up!” He kept pushing you forward, toward the QZ. “No point in gettin’ us killed to save a man who’s already dead.”

Joel had gone from seemingly finding you to be a nuisance to hating you then. He refused to even be in the same room as you let alone leave the QZ with you again.

It took you a long time, after that split, to figure out how to survive. You’d become dependent on the cards you got from smuggling to get by but you couldn’t leave the QZ on your own and expect to make it back in one piece, not with how things had devolved with raiders and infected in recent years. You found a small group who was going out from time to time - which is how you met Tess - and you cobbled together a living.

You never worked with Joel again.

At least, not until now.

You sighed and perched in the window, watching the QZ go by and thinking of the best way out of the city once the sun went down. You tried not to think about the likelihood that Joel would kill you while you were outside.

It was a long walk ahead of the both of you, 30 miles each way through infected no man’s land, not that raiders hadn’t been trying their damndest to get a foothold. But you had a connection there who had been growing marijuana and had a hell of a crop they were willing to trade for plenty of ammunition and antibiotics. You’d been orchestrating this trade with Tess for weeks, both of you carefully avoiding the sore subject of Joel. The initial plan had been you and her heading out but then Joel beat the shit out of a FEDRA guard for some imagined offense and they were suddenly without the connections they needed and suddenly, Joel became part of the plan. Lucky you.

Once darkness started to fall, you picked up a little stone that was stuck in the frame of the cracked window. You took careful aim and flicked it, watching it sail to hit Joel square on the forehead. He twitched in his sleep, grimacing, but he didn’t wake.

You looked around a moment, searching for something else to use against him. You found it in the form of a wad of paper that you had to stretch to reach but you did. You tightened the ball and aimed, throwing it. It didn’t make it quite as far, bouncing off his hands as they sat folded at the base of his chest. He didn’t even flinch at that.

“Dammit,” you muttered, looking around again. You found a rubber band then, perking up a little as you picked it up. You arranged it carefully on your fingers, pulling it back and aiming it like a gun, targeting Joel’s nose. His oddly beautiful nose. Not that you ever really thought that way about him, of course. You shot the rubber band and it flew, snapping right where you’d aimed it. He jerked awake and you turned quickly so it seemed like you were just looking outside into the night.

“Wha…” He mumbled.

You turned your head to look at him as he sat up, seemingly disoriented.

“You hit me with somethin’?” He asked.

“What would I hit you with, Joel?” You asked. “I was about to come wake you up, though. Can’t get a late start because of your lazy ass…”

“Show you lazy…” he muttered, hefting himself up off the sofa. “Let’s move.”

You gave Joel this much, the man was efficient. You’d forgotten just how efficient in the years it had been since you’d last worked together. He cut through the QZ quickly and smoothly, the knowledge of routes run by FEDRA guards seemingly innate as he knew exactly when and where to avoid and how to do it. In what seemed like no time at all, you were outside the walls and starting into the ruins of the city.

“Got a safe house about an hour’s walk,” he said, setting an almost punishing pace as you moved alongside him. “We get there, wait for daylight, press on in the morning.”

“Oh, because you’re the decision maker?” You asked, brows raised, even though you agreed with him. “Just expect me to fall in line…”

“You know what, princess?” He rounded on you, forcing you back into the wall of a building you were passing. “You’re lucky I came out here with you after the shit you’ve pulled…”

“Shit I pulled? I fucked up!” You all but yelled at him. “I know it! I think about that all the fucking time, that he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me! I don’t need you to fucking remind me, I know what I did and I’m sure you’re fucking perfect and that no one’s ever died because you fucked up…”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he growled, pressing closer to you for a moment and his eyes were dark and dangerous. For a moment, you thought he might kill you. Or kiss you. He didn’t do either. Instead, he just stepped back, looking you up and down once. “Keep your shit together this time. Don’t want to die because of you.”

Tears burned your throat and eyes and you swallowed them and walked a few steps behind Joel, trying to keep an eye out for signs of infected and raiders and trying to make sure that Joel didn’t die. Even if it was just out of spite.

The next day was easier than you expected, too. You made it quickly out of the safe house in the morning and dodged a hoard of infected, skirting around the writhing mass of them lying on the street. You didn’t really feel like you could breathe until you were outside the city, where the air was cleaner and you didn’t feel the specter of what happened years ago looming over you.

You and Joel mostly ignored each other, watching the tree line as you kept an eye out for whatever might be lurking for you there. But, every now and then, you thought you caught Joel looking at you out of the corner of your eye, his head snapping around the moment you seemed to take notice.

After walking for most of the day and covering 20 miles, the two of you stopped and made camp, Joel deeming it safe enough to make a small fire. You watched him after the two of you had eaten and settled, the light casting flickering shadows on his face.

Joel, you were almost loathe to admit, was an incredibly good looking man. There was a roughness to him that you found almost comforting in the world you were both trapped in but there was beauty to him, too. The symmetry of his features, the plush of his lips, the cut of his jaw. You wondered what he was like before all this, not just when he was younger but before this world had a chance to sink its teeth into him. Maybe you would have been friends then. Maybe something more than friends.

“How’d you end up smuggling?” You asked, not able to keep sitting here in silence any more.

“What?” He asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his gun.

“Smuggling,” you said. “Doubt you were born a smuggler and you don’t seem like you were a drug mule or something in the before times. How’d you end up doing it?”

“How does anyone end up doin’ anything?” He asked. “Needed cards, people needed drugs. If people want to pay me for ‘em, I’m not about to argue.”

“So that’s it,” you said. “You woke up one morning and thought to yourself ‘I think I’m going to tell FEDRA to fuck off today by running drugs’ and started a whole new career.”

He sighed but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t buy it,” you continued, sitting back against the tree you were propped against. “There’s something else…”

“Not your business if there is.”

“So there is something else!” You said, almost smug. “I’m on the right track, excellent.”

“You always this nosy?”

“Usually,” you said. “Let’s see… Maybe Joel Miller just likes an excuse to hit things.” He scoffed but didn’t say anything. “Not that? Interesting… Maybe Joel Miller gets off on breaking the rules. Is that it? You have authority issues?”

“Can we go back to not fuckin’ talking?” He asked.

“Not authority issues then,” you nodded, ignoring him. “Well, that leaves just one other theory.”

You were quiet, looking away from Joel and fighting the urge to smirk as you did. It only took a minute of silence before he sighed.

“Goddammit,” he said. “What. What’s your theory.”

You let the smirk happen then, looking back at him.

“That Joel Miller doesn’t feel alive unless he’s about to die,” you said. “And that Joel Miller needs to feel something so he decides to do the thing that almost kills him because what else is there to have?”

He watched you for a moment, his eyes hot and angry, before he looked back at his gun.

You laughed once.

“So predictable…”

“And why do you do it?” He asked, looking up at you, the rage barely contained on his features. “Must have a reason, right? Livin’ outside the QZ as long as you did, fuckin’ around outside it now, what is it? You got some kind of death wish?”

“Yes,” you said, looping your arms around your knees. He blinked at you in surprise for a moment and you laughed a little. “I’m not nearly as mysterious as you, it’s not some secret…”

“Why?” He cut you off, gun set aside now. You frowned but he pressed on. “You got a life, why do you want to just throw it away…”

“You call what I have a life?” You asked, brows raised. “Never thought you’d be so generous in regards to anything related to me…”

“Ain’t it?” He asked. “Sure, it’s not what it was before, can’t just do what we did then but…”

“You think that’s it?” You gaped at him. “That I miss being able to go to fucking happy hour with my coworkers or grab dinner at Chili’s so I might as well drop dead?”

“That’s not…”

“I lost people, Joel,” you snapped. “I know everybody did but when I say I lost people, I mean I lost everyone. By the time you and Tommy found me, there wasn’t a single person left on Earth I knew. My parents turned in the outbreak, they bit my brother and his wife and their daughter. I survived with my fiance for a while but he got shot by a FEDRA officer when we were trying to make our way to the fucking QZ and then I was alone. I stayed out there because, what, was I supposed to go live with the people who killed him? No thanks. What the fuck is there? So yeah, you know what? I smuggle shit. I like the risk. I like telling FEDRA to fuck off. I like being able to handle myself because I’m the only thing I can count on. Don’t act so fucking surprised that I’m not thrilled with life in the QZ just because you brought me there.”

Joel was quiet for a moment and you just squared your jaw and looked away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You knew you shouldn’t let Joel get to you the way he did - especially not after you’d picked at him and pushed him here - but he got under your skin the way no one else left alive really seemed to. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your fiance, not in years. It was a wound you’d long set aside, a casualty in the war on humanity that had hollowed you out so much that it seemed like you couldn’t really feel anything unless you were on the edge of your own destruction. Or, apparently, picking a fight with Joel fucking Miller.

“Could be worse,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, well.”

“M’sorry.”

You looked at him then, brows knitted together.

“What?”

“Said I’m sorry,” he said, voice a little gruff. “Didn’t… didn’t know. Wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”

You blinked for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Of everything you’d expected to hear out of Joel Miller’s mouth, I’m sorry wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry, too,” you said eventually. “If you want to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“Right,” you nodded. “Well…”

“I got first watch,” he said, picking his gun back up. “Get some sleep.”

The next day, you reached the trade you’d arranged, the woman you’d run into a few times when outside the QZ there with her partner. They hauled so much marijuana out - wrapped tightly in old newspaper - that they had to use wagons to carry it all. You unloaded your haul and the trade went smoothly, Joel lurking toward the back and standing guard, keeping a surly watch over the whole proceeding the entire time. It took some doing to pack all the pot into your bags but you managed it, thanking the couple and starting back toward the QZ.

You were close to where you’d stopped the night before when it happened, the snarl of infected crawling over your skin.

“Fuck,” you slung your rifle down from its place over your shoulder and turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a cluster of at least a dozen infected moving for you. You shot, catching the first in the head and you watched it drop.

“Go!” Joel yelled, planting his feet and taking aim.

“Fuck you!” You snapped, ignoring him and shooting. “I can handle myself.”

He growled at that but didn’t say anything else. Instead you stood with him, side by side, trying to pick off the group that was charging for you. For a moment, you thought you’d done it, that you were in the clear.

And then, Joel’s gun jammed.

You realized it when you didn’t hear any more gunfire coming from beside you as the remaining infected drew closer.

“Joel!” Your eyes darted his way and you saw him trying to force the lever back, to no avail. He looked to you and the infected and back to you, his jaw squared.

“Get back to the QZ,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. Instead, he charged forward, gun held not like a firearm but a staff and he swung it, hard, so the butt of it slammed into the skull of an infected as three others dove for him.

“Fuck!” You yelled, ignoring him again. Like hell he was going down out here like this, like fuck you were letting this asshole die for you. You took careful aim, taking down infected that you were confident you could headshot without putting Joel at risk, just one bullet going wide and exploding on the bark of a nearby tree, the rest finding their mark. And then he was on the ground, just one infected left, too close to him for you to be able to shoot and it wasn’t that you chose to do it, not really. It was more like instinct, flying forward, shedding your backpack and dropping your gun as you did, wrenching your knife from its place at your hip and jumping onto the back of the creature, your arms going around its neck as you yanked back on it, hard.

Your weight threw it off balance and it shrieked, starting to claw at you, twisting in your hold to see if it could sink its teeth into your skin. It bit as best it could at your arms but the thick of your coat kept it from getting any further and you struggled to adjust your knife to drive it into the thing’s neck but you couldn’t get it, not without letting it go.

“Goddammit!” Joel was panting for breath and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye as he scrambled to his feet. You tightened your grip on the infected, the stink of the rot of it from the inside out making you gag, and it slammed you back into a tree, catching you off guard. You barely registered the sound of your skull hitting the wood before you passed out.

***

You didn’t listen. You never fucking listened, why could you never fucking listen?

You were the single most infuriating person Joel had ever met. Stubborn as hell, independent to a fault, seemingly desperate to pick every fight you could find. Of course you didn’t fucking listen to him. You never had before, why would you start now?

Seeing you that close to infected - again - was terrifying.

This was why he didn’t want to go out like this with you. This, right here. Because he knew you wouldn’t listen, he knew you’d wind up in this situation, knew he’d have to deal with the fear and the pain of you dying when it was his fucking fault why couldn’t you just fucking listen?

He’d thrown himself at the infected to give you a chance. One of you was probably going to die out here and he wasn’t about to let it be you. Not when he’d already done so much, gone so far to try to make sure you fucking survived. Because dammit, if he couldn’t make sure one of the few people he actually cared about actually lived, what was the damn point?

But did you take the chance he was giving you? No. Of course you didn’t.

And all he could do was watch in horror as the thing you’d jumped on top of slammed you into a tree with a sickening thud, one he could hear above the snarling and snapping of jaws. Your body went limp and you slid from its back to the earth, landing in an unnatural looking way. No one who was in control of their limbs fell like that. His blood was ice and he moved without considering, roaring as he ripped his knife from his belt and tackled the infected who was turning to go after your throat. He hit it so hard he rolled with it, the creature’s mouth reaching for him as he held it back. They came to rest on the ground, that thing on top of him and Joel slammed his knife into its neck again and again, until it went quiet and still and Joel was bloodied and panting for breath.

He shoved it off him and he half crawled to you as he got to his feet, not willing to wait until he was standing to start moving. You were still when he reached you, your head thrown back, half on your side, mouth open.

“No, no, c’mon,” he pulled your coat open to get at your chest to try to do what he thought was CPR - not like there were fucking certifications for it in the QZ - but, when he did, he realized you were breathing. He lowered his head near your mouth and could hear the soft, shallow sound of your life and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath.

So he hadn’t gotten you killed. Not yet, anyway. At least there was that. He let himself sit with the relief for a moment before checking you over, looking at your throat and wrists for signs of a bite but didn’t find any. Another lucky moment.

“Alright princess,” he said, tapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. We gotta get movin’, let’s go.” You stayed still. His stomach twisted. “Know you like to fuck with me but now ain’t the time, we need to get out of here, time to wake up…”

He half expected you to respond then. You’d love this, the fact that he was damn near panicking because you were hurt. He knew you’d want to draw it out.

But you wouldn’t be stupid about it. You wouldn’t put them at risk, not really.

“Fuck,” he swore, adjusting your limp body as best he could before lifting you to his chest. The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood. He tried not to think about what that might mean. “S’alright. You’re gonna be fine, just… You’ll be OK.”

He kept thinking that, over and over, as he carried you, looking for somewhere he could protect you for a while.

It took him time to find it, a farmhouse with overgrown fields that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The door was hanging open, creaking on its hinges, and Joel brought you to the kitchen island, setting you gently on the dust-covered formica.

“Stay there for a minute,” he said, leaning against the counter to recover his strength and his breath for a moment. “Gotta… gotta make sure we don’t got company.”

He went through the house room by room, barricading the doors on the ground floor and pleasantly surprised to find most of the top floor intact, no holes in the roof or broken windows. He gathered some blankets from the main bedroom and carried them down to where he’d left you. He propped your head up gently, pouring some water on a cloth and cleaning the cut there with care before covering you with a quilt and pulling a kitchen chair up beside you. He checked to make sure you were still breathing before sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands folded almost in prayer.

He should have told Tess to fuck off. He knew better, when it came to you. There was a reason he’d avoided you ever since that day everything had gone wrong. Hell, he’d been avoiding you before that, too.

From the moment he’d met you, he liked you a little too much. You were the exact kind of woman he’d gone for before, one who was capable and strong and a total fucking smart ass. He liked a woman who challenged him, one who made him think. You did those things, you did those things like it was second fucking nature, all while being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, before the outbreak or after.

He knew he had to keep his distance from the beginning, that he’d get too attached if he let himself. But you were a valuable partner, so he did his best to keep you at arm’s reach while going on runs with you and his brother. He thought that had been enough, that he’d done a good job of protecting himself from the disaster that waited at the end of any form of attachment in the life he led now.

And then he saw you freeze in the face of infected.

He was so afraid in that moment that it shocked him how fast he made the call. The decision to put his body between you and the infected was an easy one. He wanted to make it back to the QZ, to his brother he’d found some reason to live for over the last few years, but he wouldn’t want that if you didn’t come back, too. But you didn’t fucking listen then, either, too busy trying to do the same damn thing he’d have done in your position. If you hadn’t been with him, he’d have tried to save Harvey. He was a good man, he’d watched Joel’s back plenty, Tommy’s too. He deserved a better end than the one he got.

Joel just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you.

He let himself rage at you about it. Even though it wasn’t your fault, none of it had been. He’d known it then but even more so after. Years later, outside the QZ, he watched as a large hoard worked its way south for the winter, just passing through. You couldn’t have seen them coming, no one could have.

He never told you that. Because, after the day you froze, he was far enough away from you that he wasn’t going to have to watch you die and he wasn’t going to have to carry the blame if you did. He couldn’t do that again. He knew that much of himself, he knew what he wasn’t capable of surviving. If you were out of reach, he’d have room to breathe.

But you were still leaving the QZ. He hadn’t known that, at first. He’d just assumed you’d stay put and take the shitty jobs FEDRA offered to get by. He hadn’t even known that Tess knew you, not for years. It wasn’t even her that told him you were still smuggling, it had been a FEDRA guard. He’d overheard your name when Tess was handling a trade and put two and two together. He damn near marched over to your apartment that second and demanded to know what the fuck you were thinking. But he didn’t. He kept it together, he kept listening for news of you, kept waiting for the day that he knew was waiting for him, the one where you didn’t come back and he’d find out about it from some other smuggler or some asshole guard who found out when you didn’t show up with his supply of pills.

And then your name came up when he was trading with a FEDRA guard. It was a small deal, some pills for cigarettes and liquor, just enough for one guy. He was a new client of Joel’s, one he was happy to have. His demand was low and he was good leverage for bringing shit through the gates, turning a blind eye for a good deal on drugs. He just hadn’t seemed to learn quite yet that Joel wasn’t a friend.

“You know other smugglers, right?” He asked, glancing at Joel as he counted the pills out in his palm. As though Joel was stupid enough to short change a fucking FEDRA officer.

“Suppose,” Joel shrugged. “Why?”

“There’s this one…” he talked about a woman who was coming and going, one who was cocky and beautiful and hadn’t caved to his demands for sex the last time she came through and he tried to blackmail her. Joel ground his teeth but kept quiet as he prattled on, eventually pocketing the pills and handing over the cigarettes and booze. “Anyway, wondering if you think she’s the type who’ll give in or should I stop wasting my time and just take it?”

Joel’s hands curled into fists.

“Take it?” Joel asked. “Take what, exactly.”

He looked at Joel, incredulous.

“C’mon,” he said. “You know. They never fight too hard against a uniform but it’s more fun when they’re at least a little willing.”

Joel’s punch came so quickly the man didn’t have time to put his hands up. He took him to the ground fast, blow after blow raining down on the man’s face until the air smelled like copper and his knuckles were split. The man gargled on his own blood below him, desperate gasps that sounded something like “please” but he couldn’t be sure. Joel grabbed him by the collar, his head lolling limply to the side as he tried to breathe. One of his teeth was hanging on my a thread.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel panted. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I hear about any of you messing with women around here? I’ll kill you.”

Joel dropped him back to the ground and flexed his fingers. He thought he might have broken part of his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least this one was worth it.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said, fishing around in the man’s pocket and taking a pill from him. He popped it in his mouth, chalky and bitter on his tongue. “For my trouble.”

He left the man there in the alley, knowing full well that he’d just shot his whole team in the foot. He didn’t much care.

The irony that it had landed him here, outside the QZ with you unconscious and your haul on the forest floor was almost too biting. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been doing this wrong all along.

You groaned and Joel’s head shot up as you started stirring on the counter, your hand going to the injured part of your skull.

“Easy,” he said gently, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t startle you. “Took a nasty hit to the head, you were out for a while.”

“Ow.”

Joel laughed a little at that.

“Glad you think it’s funny,” you said, sitting up. He rushed to help you and you gave him an incredulous look as his hands found your back and your hand. “Jesus, I feel like I got put through a meat grinder…”

“Well, s’long as you ain’t bitten, think we can handle that,” he said, taking his hands back now that you were sitting up.

“Amen to that,” you said, stretching a bit before looking him over and then looking around, a small frown on your face. “Where are we?”

“Farmhouse,” Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets just to give them something to do. “Think about a mile from where we were. Can find our way back OK. I’ll have to, your pack is still out there.”

“Shit,” you said. “Yeah, we can’t afford to come back without it, I traded my entire stash for my share of the pot…”

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t think anyone else is comin’ through here any time too soon.”

You nodded slowly before looking back to him, your eyebrows knitting together before you flinched, your hand going to the back of your head again.

“Will you actually listen for a change and take it easy?” He asked, going to check the wound. “Jesus, bane of my fuckin’ existence, not doing a goddamn thing I tell you…”

“Why are you still here?” You asked, ignoring him yet again, fingers finding the gash on your head and tugging at it until it started bleeding again. Joel sighed before pulling your hand away. “Hell, why’d you bring me here at all? You just said I’m the bane of your existence, why the fuck did you go through this much trouble? You could have just left me there, taken my pack, kept all the haul for yourself…”

“You really think I’m capable of that?” He asked, brows raised. He knew he hadn’t exactly been kind to you over the years but fuck, he didn’t think it was that bad. He pressed the wet cloth to your head again, watching as the red filtered over it.

You shrugged.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright, you piss me off more than… shit, about anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re the bane of my existence…”

“So…”

“Will you let me talk?” He snapped. “Fuck, woman, always gotta be right, always gotta have the last damn word, always gotta do whatever’s gonna get you into the most trouble…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I managed to save your fucking life today,” you snapped back. “Please forgive me!”

“I don’t want you saving my life if it costs you yours!” He yelled.

You pulled back from him sharply, eyes wide as you blinked at him in shock. He shook his head and pulled the cloth away from your skin. At least the bleeding had stopped again.

“Don’t fuck with it anymore,” he said, dropping the bloody fabric to the counter. “Gotta leave it alone so it can start to heal, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker…”

“Joel,” you said quietly, watching him.

“What.”

“Joel,” you said again, eyes still on him. “You… What did you mean you don’t want me saving your life if it costs…”

“I don’t…” He cut you off before he took a deep, centering breath. “I don’t want anybody dying for me but… Christ, it can’t be you. Yeah, you’re the bane of my existence, you piss me off so much sometimes I swear it’s like you got a goddamn degree in just how to do it but you make me feel more alive than anything else left and I can’t…” His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a bruise. “I can’t lose you, especially not when I could stop it. Not when I could save you. I need you to stay alive, OK? I don’t want anyone else to piss me off the way you do, I want you to be the one getting under my skin every goddamn day…”

“Joel…”

“Still not gonna let me finish?” He gaped at you. “Fuck, I’m tryin’ to…”

You didn’t let him finish that time, either. Instead, you kissed him, your arms going around his neck and pulling him roughly against you, your lips so soft and warm and demanding on his that it felt like you were trying to swallow him whole.

It was like the logical part of his mind only worked for half a second after that. He knew, in that moment, that he should probably hold you back. Talk things out, make sure you didn’t hurt yourself - you’d just had a head injury for fuck’s sake - but that part of him vanished, consumed by you and the way you kissed him like you were trying to climb inside his skin.

His arms went around you, pulling you to the very edge of the island so your pussy was pressed tight against his quickly hardening cock.

He couldn’t help but grind himself against you, the zipper of his jeans harsh contrast to just how soft he knew your pussy would be and the last bit of resolve he should have held snapped. Your fingers fumbled at the snaps on his coat, pulling it open before going to the buttons on his shirt and he did the same, desperate to get at your skin and suddenly not caring that it was nearly freezing or that the two of you had nearly died not all that long ago.

His hands found your breasts, sliding inside the cups of your bra to cradle the soft warmth of them and you moaned into his mouth when his thumbs found your nipples, gently brushing them before working them in little circles as they pricked against his skin.

Joel had tried to not think about this with you. It was tempting, always tempting, but he knew better. He tried to limit his thoughts of you to frustration and anger but he often failed at that. He had failed at it often enough that he had an idea of how you would feel in his hands, how you would taste on his tongue. He thought he would have known enough to be prepared for it if it ever happened.

He wasn’t.

You were, somehow, so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine. You were so goddamn soft, like the whole of you had been spun out of silk, tenuous and tender. There was something almost inherently wrong in how he was touching something as soft as you but he shoved that nagging guilt aside, too obsessed with feeling more of you. If this was how your tits felt in his hands, how your lips felt on his, how your hands felt in his hair, he had to feel inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think about anything else if he didn’t get to be inside of you, his mind would always be trying to create the way you would feel, to know how warm you would be, how safe he would feel in you and how calming it would be to know that you were safe, too, because nothing could reach you if he was there inside you, nothing.

His hands reluctantly left your breasts and slid down to your waist, finding the button on your jeans. You quickly, clumsily kicked off your boots and lifted your ass from the countertop so he could slide your jeans and panties down, leaving you all wet and swollen and bared for him.

“Fuck,” he panted, looking down at you for a moment before reaching one callused finger forward and almost reverently tracing your dripping slit. You groaned, your head going back in pleasure, your hips almost jumping toward him.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice so goddamn needy. The sound went straight to his cock, skin stretched tight and balls aching. “Please…”

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, opening his pants and tucking his jeans and underwear below his throbbing sex. “Make you feel so good, just…”

He took his cock and brushed the head against you and you looked down to where he was about to push inside you and gasped.

“Holy fuck,” you panted, looking at him, your eyes wide. “Joel, you’re… Are you going to fit?”

“I’ll fit, baby,” he said, looking down again and notching the head of him inside your wet heat. You groaned as you stretched around him, fingers digging into the skin at his nape. He pushed the first inch of himself inside and stopped, looking back to you. He took your face his hand and your eyes searched his, desperate longing written there. “Just watch me, I’ve got you.”

You didn’t say anything, you, just nodded quickly. His other hand went to the small of your back, angling you just so as he started to thrust into you, pushing in a little and then pulling back before going again, claiming more and more of you with each stroke until he was fully within you. He stilled inside you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes on his own, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin.

He’d been right. Inside, you were fucking perfection. He could feel how you stretched over him, how your body perfectly took and held his own. You were so soft there it seemed impossible, like the world should have destroyed anything this delicate and supple. But you felt so like you, too. The heat of you was almost overwhelming, the strength of you sharp and clear when your cunt fluttered over him, already nearing your orgasm with telltale little spasms holding him tight. He wanted to consume you and be consumed, devour and be devoured and he needed to fuck you deep and hard and leave part of himself inside of you or he might never think of anything else ever again.

“Fuck, Joel,” your breaths were sharp and shaky. “I’m so… you’re so big, I’m so full, I… You have to move, I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, I need…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, gently angling your head just so. “Give you just what you need.”

He kissed you as he started fucking into you, setting an almost punishing pace as he moved inside you. He drank down your desperate groans, savored the way your fingers scrabbled over his shoulders and neck and back, got lost in the spread of your thighs as you kept trying to take him somehow deeper. As if there was more of you for him to take, as if there was more of himself to give.

Your channel grew tight over him and he knew he wasn’t going to last once you came but he was afraid he wasn’t going to even make it that far. He’d already given up on pulling out, he’d deal with the whatever fallout came from filling you up, but he had to feel you come when he was inside you. He was desperate for it, needed to feel how you’d draw so tight over him and pull his come from his body into yours, he needed it. He drove deep and found the spot inside you that made your legs clench a little tighter, fingers clutch a little harder. He pressed into it and held himself there, more rocking into you than fucking into you, grinding the head of him into the very softest part of you as your cunt drew tighter and tighter over him and you pulled away from his lips to cry out as you came. You throbbed around him and he could feel every part of you there, the pulsing of your body and the satisfaction of your cries damn near ripping his own orgasm from him.

He pulled you close and tight as he came, feeling like his whole being was pulled down low and sharp inside him as he spilled deep into you. Your arms loosened on him but you still held him gently as he all but collapsed into you, his head on your shoulder as he panted for breath.

“Fuck,” he managed after a moment, still deep inside you.

“Yeah,” you laughed a little.

He sat back from you, eyes searching yours again now that you’d both started coming back down to Earth. You reached up and ran your fingers through his curls, brushing them back from his face as he started to notice the cold air again for the first time.

“Bane of your existence, huh?” You asked, teasing lightly.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “My whole damn existence.”

You smiled a little back.

“Think I can work with that.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #enemies to lovers #joel miller one shot

708 notes · View notes

watashijeon · 2 years ago

Text

Mon Ange. | KTH

listen while reading — Is there someone else The Weeknd

— I made you mine, or so it seemed. I might as well be two feet tall. You never will love me at all. —

You’re calling out for his name, nothing can kill this moment. He feels sweetness and ease.. never has he let himself slip. But tonight is his birthday or so it was hours before.

Nonetheless, nothing could kill the stillness.

"Hm?" he’s mumbling with his speech, nose buried into pretty flushed skin. He feels confused, feeling you still when your words came out so blurred in his mind.

“I have to tell you something.”

Completely lost now where this was going, he stills his touch. Awkward and stiff, you make eye contact for what you are about to say.

He doesn’t understand the build up, he just wish you would say what it was. Maybe you had to take some time away from him due to your work.. he understood, he didn’t mind that.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

Oh. It’s so different from what he had just suspected, why does his heart feel like it just plummeted to another oblivion of nothing?

Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s undisciplined and chaotic with his very few next actions.

You need to leave. Freezing up, ready for his immediate impulse, because you know him like the back of your hand. The man picks you right off from his lap, rather rough and he would have time to regret on the meanness of it later.

He’s quick to pointing his hand open palm stiff and stern to the now sad wrinkled dress on the floor that laid lonely.

“Well, go on then.”

Your eyes looked at him pained, you had not a clue what his reaction really meant but you moved. Wiggling on your dress, back faced to him before looking once more to see his distracted stare. He is so out of it now, he doesn’t know.

“You understand.. right, Tae?” oh why must you speak so sweet to him using his shorten nickname in that especially nauseating sweet voice, even the way you are ending this is a million times nicer than he has ever ended a fling with a person.

“I do, bye.”

He’s being so mean, harsh and rude.

Taehyung hopes you won’t dwell on it or let it hurt your heart like it will to his very own.

But somehow he wants it to pain you, make you feel the same burn and ripping he feels in his chest right now. What did he do wrong?

“Goodbye Taehyung.” and that was it, the door clicked and so did his very front one. Left with the forbidden but likely delicious and perfect red velvet cake you’ve made, and a gift that sat perfectly next to it wrapped in his favorite color for wrapping paper on his kitchen island.

And indeed you had to make his favorite cake flavor, meaning you remembered the stupid detail when he told you on a night together.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He remembers so clearly on the morning you stayed after for the first time coming over for six months. The two of you had lazed in his bed between tangled limbs and sheets “I will, I will protect you.” your lips dropped into a pout tracing your nimble finger over the man’s jaw.

How could you even say that when you leave him not much later, he doesn’t get it. This isn’t like you at all. Maybe being in pained denial he couldn’t accept the sore fact that someone made the first move on with abandonment.

You weren’t supposed to lie, it’s uncalled for and unacceptable. But even deep down the man knew he was being ignorant, he’s lied to many people to avoid hurt and it was his own field of career to lie if necessary.. that’s all you were trying to do.

The man can’t dare to muster up to think you have a bad bone in your little body that was filled of nothing less of kindness. But right now he won’t be rational with his assumptions.

He’s angry and selfish with dire need for your presence now all over again, no matter the situation that this is. But whatever really, big deal that you are gone. He will find someone else to fuck his life into, you are no different from any other living human with a hole.

…

He pauses.

Never mind that, fuck that. He deserves a good and perfect reason for why you did this.. leaving him in the dark, quite literally. Taehyung can't stand not talking to you even if he never took time to speak so much into your conversations. He still appreciated all of your efforts and presence you put into whatever what you had was, now it’s all fucking gone.

He used to act upon impulse when he would have multiple play things through out the month. But you, you make him stop to think. It makes him wrinkle his nose because he does not have a clue why you turn him to be this way. It’s simply you being you, no spell.. no great manipulation in your words. Just you.

In the beginning of this arrangement he was reluctant given the age gap, especially with the relation that you were a long time family client of his.

Once he became enthralled with someone.. he could say it took a lot to kill it.

You weren’t the only one that had the privilege, he’s turned thirty two this year and definitely doesn’t have enough fingers to count on with how many girls he has used up and nicely dumped off to the side — kindly.

Sparing the honest reason that he needs to focus on his career before weeks later he would latch claws into his new toy, it’s only painstakingly different now.

Much different because he had never held onto a “toy” for over a few months at a time, the man liked variety and trying new things. With you in the picture, it was sickening at the fact that he grew real attachment to every little thing about you. It made him want you more. While he is nothing great of the sort for you, he was only a warm body to give you what was desired. You gave him your body and time, in return he would give you lust driven pleasure.

He was the one who established what you two were from the great beginning, he was not allowed to feel betrayed and cheated. Someone could hate him and he would cackle at that, a girl could scream at the stoic man and he’d chuckle again. Once you lose his interest there is no winning him back, it's as if getting stuck in a never ending pit of quick sand that could swallow you in pitiful eyes. He thinks it’s valid to feel this way, he’s coming to terms with the whole ordeal of what all this was.

Being your damn family lawyer and you had met him when you were the young age of nineteen, a mere baby. It definitely took some time for him to be ok with the fact that he would end up fucking you almost weekly with your given age — he’s not a pervert.. right? But you were a mature girl as you grew up, he liked you for this reason.. different and good for whatever he wanted and still you set healthy boundaries not letting him walk over your toes.

Time will pass nicely, right? He will be fine and move on — find someone even better. A little reflecting won’t hurt his soul.

It has been a little over two months since the grouch for a man has seen you, turning slowly into the twentieth century version for Scrooge.

Promising himself each day he would not give in and call you, you will be the one to run back.

He’s been saying that to himself since the day you up and left.. now his very once high and wild ego was now dwindling day by day and he is pissed beyond belief, because wow, wowww. You really did leave him as if he planned to do the exact for you in the beginning of meeting with you, that was before he caught a liking and it was only for your body, of course.

Yes.. that’s what is was. It was only really your gorgeous body that gave him pleasure to see you again and again, never mind the fact of your amazing personality or one of a kind glowing aura that brought a sweet genuine smile on his usual crest fallen features.

Broken from his reverie he’s receiving a call, he’s been sat still buried in his office since six am. It’s how he gets through his days to not think about you or testing the waters of calling.

The phone clicks and clatters, he needs to get himself a new desk phone or better yet just buy another smartphone. Huffing and puffing, he inhales and exhales seeing the caller id.

“Hello, it’s been awhile sir.”

It’s your father, he has to fake a front for the sake of niceties and also being civil because your very own damn dad has been using the Kim’s for any law or business relations since Taehyung was probably born, he’ll complain and grumble later on to a nice white wall of his.

“Oh yes! Things have been crazed.”

Taehyung really wonders about that, a hotel tycoon can only get so wild and crazed.. right?

“Hmm, I understand. What can I help you with.”

“Ah, Mr Kim. let’s get down to it—“ the grinch for a man licks and licks his lips again out of great big habit, becoming nervous of the lingering for just how long it takes this man to get to a point. Many clicks and clattering over the other line.. the older would continue.

“So, I need to talk through some paperwork with you regarding about merging contracts.”

“Go on, sir.” he can’t be this vague.. come on. Shouldn’t he know better than to speak so small about important shit, god help his ticking time bomb for patience being not a virtue.

Ping

If silence could kill it would be deathly here and now, he receives the paper work faxed over. A skim and scan later — Taehyung feels his heart plummet to places beyond his comprehension.

It’s just so now, he realizes your father has been blabbering about whatever this whole time.

“What is this all for?”

His eyes ogle and ogle for more than a few times he could count, reading the bold letters of “Marital License and Contract Briefing.”

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, our dear y/n is going to get married next month. We have set her up with the perfect man who is a well respected hotelier heir, a perfect match for our family.”

Of course.. of course your father would set you up with a person that is in the same position of business as him, you probably had no word or real say in this. God, why does he feel wrath and anger. He wants to rip his hair out straight.

He should be happy for you, your new husband to be probably feels like home in his arms.

So much that he bets he mends you with warm healing long hugs, and utterly disgusting kind smiles that remind you of honey mixed into sweet vanilla, your very two favorite things.

He continued to offer your father a tight-lipped smile as if he could see him through the phone, briefly looking up from the contracts on his computer screen — faxed papers sitting nice and crisped on his desk. He thinks it’s best he ends this call now before he yells off.

“Ok sir, I’ll look over them and we will discuss the terms and things that will be strewn.”

“Oh that is great to hear! I invite you over tomorrow for tea, we will discuss all of the paperwork then. Yes?”

He won’t allow himself to think about that, he will agree just to get off this damn phone call.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you then, good night.”

Click.

He’s here, he can’t believe he actually came.

Sat in the way too high ceilings for a living area, he will blame it on why he feels this nauseated. God, he knows you live here obviously. It’s been your parents odd and traditional rule until you were ready to move out when they thought it was best, you always said that was why you still stayed with them. What he didn’t know was the bizarre underlying conditions were marriage.

“Ah Kim, here we are.” The meeting begins and ends with the blink of an eye.

It went awful in Taehyung’s eyes, he really didn’t want to hear about you getting married off for a great three hours. It left the man wanting to seethe and bite his mouth off until the older would finally shut up to take a puff or sip of liquor.

Then on he tried to laugh with your father.. even when it felt as if pearly teeth might crack with only how hard his jaw flexed shut.

Your father welcomes the man to stay over for only awhile longer, he won’t accept it, kindly.

He has to get going.. because someone (Taehyung) couldn’t handle on what all just happened. While the hag of your father thought it was a good idea to step out and take a call.

15 minutes before

It’s been minutes now and your father isn’t back, Taehyung decides to dwell around with his eyes to gawk at the various family portraits hung from generations before and other astray framed photographs of little you and family.

He has the urge to trace his finger along the frames but he won’t, definitely not now.

“Tae..?”

Like clockwork, Taehyung’s head cocks in nanoseconds to the spiraled staircase you stood by, gripping on the bar to keep stance.

You look gorgeous right now, still the same as before. He can’t help but let his eyes trail over your legs, he’s no better than any other man. He decides he can’t stare for much longer though, clearing his throat to cock his head off to the side in mimicking a fake neck crack.

“Hello.” he decides on, licking lips for the trillionth time and resting hands into pockets.

Your stare doesn’t stutter elsewhere, you copy him yourself — licking lips except only slower and more tantalizing. Or that’s how he sees it. He hated confrontation, one of his favorite things about you though.. is you’d ask too many questions every time you were around. He’d act like he hated it, but bathed in the attention and attentive wide eyes you once had all for him.

It’s only none of the many questions you’d ask would ever provoke the man to deflect, bother him up the wall and make him drop you soon later in his own sheer annoyance like usual. It’s happened to others, he’s an asshole but he could care less because at least he is honest.

Seeing you now gives him bitter sweetness for deja vu, the memory to when he saw you for the first time when you were eighteen — never having an ounce of interest in you then. You were a pesky teenager though, ogling the man like sweet candy for your taking. Nothing unusual he hadn’t encountered before.. only ever moving forward to do his job and ignore it.

That helped some.

Both of you finally interacted properly then when you were twenty, clear that you had matured fast and you were well with holding good conversation. While.. your dear father ran around with his head cut off like a chicken and leaving a bored lawyer Kim to wait for set business meetings to be done, you were lovely company at least.

Then somehow.. something happened, the day where he took your virginity in your childhood bathroom — it was your 21st birthday after all.

It was almost too universal how the world wanted you two to be alone at this awful time. But the moment happened so fast maybe too fast if he wants to dwell on it now, only once comforting the weeping girl that trembled in his arms to have you seconds under his grasp.

You had to, just had to look down at him with those puppy dog eyes choking a mere sob of “Am I not important.. is that what it is Tae?”

God he hated how you said his name, so sweet and quiet. Full of vulnerability and sadness.

He couldn’t allow a pretty girl like you, sobbing over something so minuscule on her birthday, he had a great plan of course. Comfort? No.

Fuck the sadness out of you, it will do you well.

It’s shameful at how he’s too old for your young sweet heart that still had much to see and live.. he’s nothing but rotten fruit at best.

But why did he want to stay selfishly so.

Your eyes did it in for him, they always did..

Corny and sappy he thinks.

He tries to move on with the passing thoughts of why do you need to be claimed now when he was starting to think he could have tried. He hopes you had at least one passing thought yourself of the what ifs and hows.

Present

All but nothing of silence settles between the two of you, no words are exchanged past that.

Eventually steps dissipate further from him to hear, you leave after the stare off you both shared — thankfully your father interrupts.

It’s been a few hours since you last saw him, you knew way before he was going to dial your phone. Doing exactly this, after your third attempt to ignore the countless calls you press accept to hear the expectant drawl of your name in stupor.

You’re sure he’s grinning dumb and widely boxy, almost as if youth takes over for these very small tipsy minutes. His vulnerability is clearly yours now, it’s so viable at how bad he is vying for attention.

You prepare yourself, clearing your throat and speaking as clear and stern as one could be.

“Hello?”

“Hmmmhmm, hello.”

There’s a pause, awkward, but he’s drunk so he likely doesn’t recognize the rising tension.

“Yes, Taehyung?”

There’s a giggle..? Oh my god he just giddily giggled at your voice. No, no your heart isn’t doing backflips — you’re just concerned.

“At your door, open sesame.” you can hear him try to knock like a madman — even if there’s visibly a buzzer that’s meant to be there so insiders could hear from the size of your parent’s insanely huge home.

Drunk Taehyung doesn’t know that though.

Fuck well, ok you guess. Thank god your father isn’t home for the night — you begin to panic but you can dissolve situations fine, it’s your strong suit or one of the many of them at least.

You practically lunge from your bed to tumble over down the stairs, trying to keep him half entertained while you tunnel yourself to the door before the maids could see the odd sight.

Being quiet as you can be with unlocking the door, Taehyung makes it no issues to pull a dramatic scene. Already seconds in through the door staring you down, like any other would be scared of the predatory stare.

But this is Taehyung, he would never hurt you.

All you can do, Slowly watching him advance at you skittering back until you’re pressed to the wall. He doesn’t touch you, leaned against the victorian wall with each hand on either side trapping you between him.

He won’t stop there yet, drawling your name out in a drunken purr “Aw-huh. Angel, you got yourself stuck..what are we going to do now?" like no moral was ever created — toes curled into wooden floors from the deep baritone voice awakening all of your weaken senses.

You try, trying so damn hard and ignore it.

Staring hard into empty eyes, his bags are awfully visible and you wonder if he’s even slept lately.

You’re so tiny and frazzled by his abrupt actions, feeling him slide a warm hand up to your stomach to trail barely under your tits. The same said empty eyes sharpen at your slip of a pathetic whine, closing you into the wall a tad too close for comfort to make you both bump into each other’s chest.

“Wanna fuck this pretty cunt again.”

His words boom into you everywhere, from head to toe and places you wouldn’t like to acknowledge that throbbed with need. Doomed, definitely, that’s what you are.

You can only exhale feeling a warm shiver travel down your spine from the daring slip of drunken tongue. Able to pull enough strength to squeak a soft response “L-let’s lay down.”

It was your best bet to avoid from ruining your impending future, you won’t allow no more mishaps to happen. It’s all for your father.

He settled off with a hum, you were surprised he’d backed off. Maybe the man recognizing the nervousness in your tone, “Lead the way.”

It’s quiet now, too tense for your liking but you can’t do anything you think to help the off situation. Laid in your bed next to each other with a foot of space between your bodies.

It’s uncanny how alike this situation reminds you of some movie you watched with the man.

You feel like you’re steps away from saying the infamous line of “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.”

You won’t have a second to think longer when the big bear decides to speak up into the unknown of silence that had lasted for a long hour, “I get it.. yeah, you don't love me, big fucking deal.”

Silence, absolutely nothing back.

“I’ll never tell you how I really feel, angel.”

Your breath was being held for seconds until he decides to follow with cockiness, there it is.

Always showing a slip of vulnerability followed with the man being plain rude. It’s the way your eyes roll that cause a gasp to stutter from him, almost like he didn’t expect your attitude nor harsh yet honest reaction.

He won’t comment on it properly, never does.

“Hold me.” he mumbles while simultaneously grumbling, trying his definition in hard to get you closer than whatever.. this is. Your brow ticks at him head shifting to properly face his pouted features from his side profile, feeling up for the need to deny him only a bit.

“What? Stop mumbling.”

He won’t take a pause this time, thankfully.

“Hold me goddammit.” he huffs and puffs out even louder — yet incoherently all in the same breath. Taehyung coughs, trying to clear his throat and mocks you with a roll in his own eyes of annoyance, like you did something.

That time you did “hear” him and you did what was asked by the big grizzly bear, only you turned to him closer now — seeing that wry smile on his cruel but godforsaken pretty face.

The spiral begins, you and him are going to give into this hell of fire.. only letting it grow uncontrollable by the end of night.

Are you going to do well without me?

Are we ever going to be okay?

Will we ever be fine?

You were too good to be forgotten in his heart.

It was too quiet in this room, silent and tense.

Taehyung felt nothing but regret, fucking stupid as he closed his eyes and mumbled these pitiful words.

Stupid, as he continued to speak gibberish into the room. I feel stupid. I am stupid.

You finally give up on the swallowing of the never ending silence and endless mumbling under his breath, tongue dry trying to clear your throat so to maybe finally speak — maybe even summon him back, and he does. It works because he lets his eyes finally open back.

You tug him into your chest wasting no more time when there’s not much, arms wrapped tight around his stiff figure that takes only just a minute to loosen once he realized you weren’t going to push him back anymore.

It’s not much different though, his nails still pierced into his forearm with thin lips folded into teeth to feel anything but what this is right now. You were staring at him, Taehyung, your father’s lawyer, your first crush and realization that you really only like and desire older men.

Now wishing you’d rather have gone to therapy instead of pursue that day in the bathroom.

You don’t mean that actually, you just hate yourself at this very moment and so does he.

But this wasn't the Taehyung you knew, wasn't the same man with styled hair and sultry eyes.. looking now as real life death in your arms.

You weren’t trying to be harsh nor hateful, you were worrying your heart out and confirming all the racing thoughts you have figured to be maybe going on. Only for them to come to life. He looks unreal tonight, almost unnatural from his usual sun kissed skin. No more sharpness to his look, the man looks fucking sick.

You want to coddle him to death, your own heart feels like it’s going to lurch right out from it’s chest by any second now if he keeps looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes. This was not the look you yearned to see, you hated it all so much.

“Well.” clearing his throat, trying to prove something into air. Maybe it’s a lawyer instinct.

You repeat back to him without a beat to really think, “Well..” you use the same tone of voice but maybe yours wavered more in raw pain. The man wordlessly continued to stare like always, holding your hand tight in his grip in bringing it up to his lips. You should reject his warm touch, leave even, run far.

But why are you still laying here.. melting away.

He was being this gentle and just careful, you would giggle if the situation weren’t tense now.

Long fingers playing with lips, digits ghosting over your cheek with a soft caress. You can’t help but shut your own tired eyes, melting more and more and it was just like that.

His control is gone, so fast and fluidly when your lashes fluttered to cold skin. Whispering his name too sweet and soft almost in prayer.

"We can’t.. it would be wrong.” it’s insane how you knew his intentions from the speed his hands traveled to the material of your night dress.

"So fucking wrong," he becomes almost too ready with heavy pants of hot breath kissing your jaw and neck.

Eager calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips that were on the brink of trembling.

You whine at the tone he uses, becoming easy to his invasion "Don't.. don't speak like that." Eyes heavy lidded, lips licking with each breath that exhaled from your stuttering chest.

He wants you dead it seems, feeling up your body more and more by every passing second before easy fingers would get to your chest.

"I'm wrong like that.. you like it," the man preaches with determined digits this time skimming back down onto your hips to hear his favorite strangled whines "you want it.”

"Ah.. T-tae” it’s pathetic.. sounding asthmatic in your own ears from mere fingers grazing you rough.

"Who's married? Certainly not you, yet."

You pause to mull it over, eyes falling into his.

He truly doesn’t care now, past gone. Nothing can stop this — you need him.. your sweet eyes tell almost all too fucking well for him to know.

He's moving on autopilot when he pulls you to him with no awareness of anything around him, the man frenzied with his only living goal to feel you wrapped around him. Whether it be with loose limbs or his all well endowed cock buried deep between warm tightness, he needed to feel you again.

Your gasps fall out too soft to be surprised at the sudden roughness, murmuring whining moans that fell into a mantra of "We can't..” tiny cries that quickly later start falling into hungry kisses while neither of you had an ounce of intention to stop, no matter the end of it.

Lips already collided against each other in a perfect mess of motion, tongues lolled out of your mouthes as the pleasure binds you both.

It’s disgusting now, strings of drool dribbling to your chest from every pause he took to pull and nip. The man grabs your scalp, yanking you head back against his shoulder. Jaw slack open to give him the prettiest mouth for him to gladly spit right down onto your tongue, so pathetic all for his demise.

Doing all the nothing but moaning and swallowing, open mouth with all your might.

Leaving a desperate plea in sparkly eyes while you wait impatient for his next move, you missed him. Eyes yearning and lips quivering, legs shaking so early on and yet.. your spine just might go limp quite soon.

You whine almost instantaneously and nothing less of desperate while the devious man began to nibble harshly down on your neck with small bites of love.

Moving on nothing but anger and bubbled feelings at surface, shoes being removed, with the stubborn zipper of your night dress slipping down from your shoulders as hungry lips explored every inch of skin that became exposed.

So quick, licking a wet stripe down your chest to stomach to feeling you shake with desire and need, tasting the want for you on his tongue.

“Hmm, your poor husband to be.”

He hated that, hated the fact that you were about to belong to someone. He knew he wanted and needed you to feel the burn that he had been feeling for months since then.

"I'm not t-telling," you can barely form a sentence let alone a proper sound that didn’t make you sound out to be like a deprived slut.

The man can’t do much other than scoff, you having the strength to use that reassuring tone— with such a soft tone and bat pretty doll eyes in lost of such easy pleasure given.

Looking this fucking gorgeous and it’s going to be all for someone else, not him ever “I know angel, not with the way i’m about to fuck you.”

Like clockwork you moan like a bitch at that, of course. Feeling him sink razor sharp canines down into the squishy flesh of your stomach.

Uncaring completely for the fresh marks, he would hope in your future meeting with that man.. you wouldn’t become so easy to show yourself off for him. Sliding his fingers from your stomach down over to your cunt, slipping long digits between sopping wetness — sticky as if you already had touched yourself earlier.

He’s growing impatient, on the aspect of stretching you out when he so gladly craves to stuff you four fingers full. But he’s a gentleman at his very best, always calling out for him in non-stop “T-tae..” or better yet “Touch me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” without any doubt he would answer “Anything for the angel.”

Your thighs already shake from the burn of /slowly/ fucking yourself on long fingers. Tears streaming, overwhelmed by the burning stretch that comes with each motion, soon quiet sniffles and soft gasps turn into sobbing when the man decides to snake his hand and start to tease and slowly circle your clit.

“So perfect, all for me, hm.”

You nod eager to please, blushing all the way down to your toes. Biting your lip, thoughts not holding very well against the feeling of the eager man’s middle finger now slipping out from you to part your cunt and stroke along the sore slit.

“Patient tonight? You must want it bad.” he sighs almost sounding bored, standing tall over you to undo the belt that once looped through his slacks. Long gone leather abandoned to the floor along with his slacks pooled at his ankles, ready, finally.

“You gotta be nice and quiet for me. Yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You’re way past desperate tonight, choking out a broken “Y-yes, fuck! Please.” wild hips winding up for more of the now lost touch.

The older plays coy, smirking lopsided and lazy, kneeling on the bed to line himself up to the pretty plump cunt. Long digits wrapped around his cock, "Open up for me baby."

She obeys immediately, legs opening wider to shakily wrap themselves around Taehyung’s waist. His hips up to slip his cock into the crease of your folds. Grinding there half tipsy now, leaky tip nudging at your clit.

Not wasting another second, the first push of stretch has you whining his name. Long nails piercing into taut honey skin, cock fucking in ruthless at the long thrusts that heat your core up, forming sweat down his neck and shoulders.

“Goood fucking girl.” He drawls with a husky moan, you want to die at how fucking hot he sounds.

He doesn’t care, going faster to no point of being coherent in your mind. Punishing strokes fucking the life out of you, snapping his cock right into your tight cunt. One hand bruised into your hip while the other slipped easily around your neck just enough to have you alert “Look me in the eyes when I’m fucking you.”

Lashes fluttering half open, looking with a fuzzy minded daze. Knowing you look like a slut, feeling drool drip everywhere along with the slickness between your legs. Coming to the reality you would let him do anything and you’d welcome it.

"Just like that baby, shit, taking my cock so fucking good," he grunts almost feral with every punishing stroke "Y-yes, " tiny voice choking out, slamming into you with hips winding harder if that was even humanely possible "Love it so much, I-love your cock.”

“Who’s a whore, uh? Who’s desperate for cock.”

“Tell me.” he growls slowing the roll of his hips into you to pull a desperate cockslut spill a mess of “Me, me, me.” you’re hyperventilating almost with how good he feels “M-me, I’m sorry!” god, the situation is a mess but he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t thinking about filling his load in you and pray to the man above that your birth control didn’t work.

feeling walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing the telltale signs you were about to cum.

“Perfect fucking girl, sucking me so tight.”

“S-stop..” you whine in embarrassment with a broken sob when you feel the devil himself sink deeper, balls deep inside you now.

Back and forth, back and forth.

An addictive dance, once friendly boundaries expanding to something that was speaking what will stay unspoken. Taehyung’s cock sliding so good inside your cunt you were dying with bliss for the night.

He can see you struggle to try and put a hand over your mouth, but the man won’t allow that. Snatching your hand in his grasp “Let her hear," he growls, referring to the maids and starts to fuck the life out of your cunt with no care for how loud you moan or scream.

"Y-your slut," you stutter, feeling him start to raise his hips to meet your weak attempt of grinding back, thrusting upward and matching your sloppy speed. "wanna b-be your slut."

His ego growing higher than before and dick hard as ever, Taehyung taunts, already knowing the answer by your dazed features.

“Oh yeah?” he pants grunting with every roll of his hips, and you can do nothing but give him what he wants. On the brink of tears you whine out broken moans, “So fucking bad, please Tae.”

“Come on." the taller’s strokes turning slow and hard, each one pulling a moan from sweet agape lips. "Cum on my cock.” you’re past coherent, cock drunk with drool slipping down your chin.

The ecstasy bursting through your body at an unimaginable rate,legs feel almost numb, smaller fingers gripping your sheets so hard. Taehyung already knew you would rip them off the corners of your bed, seeing how your own skin burned. Orgasm still sending ripples throughout your tiny body. Shaking as you came down from the high, cock buried deep, cum spilling inside as he keeps your body pressed together, skin to skin. His nose buried in the crook of longer sweaty strands of hair.

You begin to feel the feather kisses he mouthed over the expanse of your neck, his body quivering with the last of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, yeah, ok.” is all he can do to respond, you can only hum in response as you’re being fucked so mind-numbingly good. Body moving along the bed as you’re fucked open for the year.

Your blissed-out state has the man feeling on top of the world, no case he’s won ever given him this much ecstasy for this feeling of high.

Knowing that the same woman he's been getting off to for months, that was only planned to be handed over to someone else is finally getting fucked. His pretty not so sweet angel drooling all for him, ruined for good by just his cock.

The floaty feeling back to how it was, only stronger than ever, the way Taehyung feels so right up against you.

He comes from his feverish moment of just drilling into you, no awareness for how overwhelming it may be. A smaller hand trying to grab his hand to make him stop, he sees nothing less of rage.

"Move your fucking hand.” he snaps with a hiss, snatching your hand in an iron like grasp.

“only I can touch you like this.” he states, hard and stern as if it’s a plead mixed into question. “Yeah?” of course he has to slap you for you to answer, braindead and cock hungry.

“Yes, all for you!” you squeal, body curling into yourself — he begins to dwell how there is not a real thought behind your eyes but his fingers and cock bearing your only passable thoughts.

He wants to laugh, your poor husband is about to be inadvertently about to be cucked.

You moan at how rough he’s being, every yank, spanking and slap getting you more than riled up. Rambling the typical ‘I love you, I love your cock.’

He’s aggravated, not sure why, deep down knowing. "Look at me and tell me what you want.” no way to receive an answer unless he squeezed a generous hand around your throat.

“Y-you, you, fuck!”

It’s not enough, he wants to laugh at his greediness that will not sate him ever.

Again and again, back and forth. Another slap landed across each apple red cheek, going harder each lashing.

“Again.”

You repeat yourself again, hm, still not enough.

He’s done with himself, frustrated and choosing to vomit his words.

“You’re mine, get that through your fucking head.” his thrusts were past hard and fast, bruising now. He grunted and groaned while you continued to moan and whimper beneath him, going so rough he decided to push your skull deep into the bed. Warm palm covering your face whole, feeling you squeeze involuntarily at being used like an object.

“Atta girl.” He didn't stop, not once. You weren’t asking to anyways just screaming his name for more — no mind here with nodding away into a mess full of bedsheets, trying to wind wobbly hips back on his cock to bounce lewdly.

Taehyung does nothing less but snap sharply against your ass, “So fucking tight, mine."

"C-cum in me tae," you moan, seeing white, reaching down blindly to rub your clit in frantic circles, begging at the idea of the older filling you with his cum. "Fill me up, give-give me a baby."

"Fuuuck," Taehyung growls and groans almost feral "Don't fucking say that shit."

"W-why not?" bratty whines beg “F-fill me up? Don't say that?"

Taehyung grunts, pulling you on him, chest to chest, you clamor to wrap shaky arms around his neck. Fuck, he’s holding you upright, bouncing you straight onto his cock. Falling forward with a squeal, crying in pleasure as the tip of his cock hits your cervix with how deep he is inside.

"Want my cum so fucking bad?" he hums, trying his best to sound unbothered. "I'll fucking give it to you then."

Your legs clamp around his waist as he pounds into you, cock hitting every point inside your body and you’re so close you think you’ll die. You feel Taehyung tense, and then a sudden gush of warmth fill you.

"Fuck me, angel. You feel so good." he gasps through l shut teeth spanking you with every thrust he gave.

At the feeling of him actually listening to what you always wanted, your orgasm blinds you in intensity, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps. Body seizing, moans loud against his lips, whining a final tired cry to slow down.

The baby clip once stuck to hair now hung loose, the feeling of warm hands kneading hips before he would give harsh slaps to your ass.

"What do you think he would say," he spits out the name with nothing but disgust. “if he saw you like this?" He shifts his hips, "You think he'd ruin your orgasm?" tone patronizingly sympathetic. “Or.. let you cum so prettily, like you always do.”

He tsks at watching how disoriented daze eyes go through the five stages of grief. Writhing in pleasure as eyes fall closed, breath hitched when he finally lays you back down on the bed. Thighs sticky and all, he sighs at the sight.

“Want to show this cunt off to the world."

“Y-you can’t..” you pout, his eyes watching you fall apart all over again at just words being spoken to you.

“Good thing for secrets.” he smirks his mouth almost falling into a snarl, it wasn’t even spoken this would continue. One last time you agreed.. but you want him more than ever even if your situation is doomed.

“Bath?” he mutters with a whisper of soft kisses to your temple, you nod.

He grabs for his cigarettes, you hand him his lighter and wait until the deed was done so you could put them back off to the side again.

It’s been long since you both have took a bath together. He stretches his arms after he successfully calmed his nerves, you light the stick for him, eyes on him as he throws his head back to inhale. Blowing smoke out, body lazing while it filled with nicotine.

You like calm men, men who dont shout or break things when they’re upset. Men who talked to you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong.

That’s what Taehyung is to you, that’s what made you fall.. hard. You think it over all again in your current predicament, comfortable as ever.

Veiny caramel hands pulling your hips up in the bath for you to be settled nicely. A warm hand fondles your ass lovingly with his other taking puffs of smoke to inhale and exhale lazily, “My pretty girl.” he smiles lopsided before tugging your wobbly hips back down in relief, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined in your own way of retaliation.

Taking mercy before planting a wet kiss on your shoulder to whisper “I love you, Angel.”

Both of you decide on staying silent. Your back rests against his chest, deciding mutually to speak once the cigarette burnt into ashes.

“Does he make you feel safe, like I do?”

You don’t answer.

“I want you, you’re mine no matter what.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You are married now.. being due with a fast wedding to no love involved, business as the main goal.

The meets with Taehyung continue and you two make time to fuck when you can — poor Namjoon.

It hurts he thinks.. hurts so bad. Because he’ll have to look at you every month when you come over to be fucked into whatever.

While he is out handling business, leaving him in the spot to fuck you hard and good like he can’t, at least he tried to convince himself of that for his own comfort.

You keep up with the old routine of pillow talk, just to feel the same mundanity this once all was. You think, he doesn’t care what you speak of after he only just poured his dull sad soul into fucking you.

Not caring at how you talk so highly of your new husband and how well you both are adapting with each other. Rambling all on about your blossoming relationship with him, hearing you nervously speak of the plans on having kids together.

Of course not nervous on his behalf, no, no.

Because you are deathly nervous about if you will be a good mother or not, he knows you will, even if things are like this. You think it doesn’t hurt him, when you say genuinely on how he’ll be the “Cool friend of Mommy’s” to your children.

It drives a knife deep into my heart on how you speak so highly of this new life, how well you are adapting. When.. we could have had this.

“Tae..? You there?”

He’s not caring to respond to your rhetoric question that was all well laced of genuine care and worry, Taehyung can be an asshole just this once.

“Do you know what you are?”

You think this is a game of teasing now, he can tell with that pretty smirk plastered on your gorgeous face “What am I, sir?”

It’s too bad that he’s being genuinely serious.

“You’re my girl.”

You don’t take a second to pause, you play into the narrative with a grin that quickly warped into an innocent and sweet smile.

“I’m your girl, Taehyung.”

He only knew that you meant the world to him.. and he, adored you in his mind until it hurt.

#bts fan fiction #bts ff #bts smut #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung fic #taehyung smut #taehyung x yn #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung ff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #taehyung pwp #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #bts au #bts aus

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ultimate-marysue · 3 months ago

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One of those "Jason decides to leave vigilantism after coming back and just lives his normal life" AU. He doesn't tell his family, he doesn't become Red Hood. Instead, Talia pays for his college and he becomes an English teacher. He fundamentally disagrees with Bruce's methods, but instead of taking it into his own hands to teach him a lesson he decides that's not his problem anymore. New life, new me.

He lives in a normal apartment, gets a couple of rescues to keep him company, makes civilian friends and just leads a completely normal and happy life away from rogues and vigilante drama. And then one year he starts doing the roll call and stares at the name like oh. Oh no.

Lian Harper is in his class.

Cue to Roy romancing his daughter's hot teacher while Jason tries to keep his identity a secret. Roy doesn't recognize him -obviously- he's much older and they weren't that close back when Jason was Robin, but he's one step removed from Dick who would absolutely make the connection. Roy is just really tired trying to keep a job and parent a preteen on top of his nightly activities, and Mrs Peterson is such a breath of fresh air into his very chaotic and intense life.

Lian is torn between wanting his dad to be happy, liking Mr. Peterson because he's a really cool guy and not wanting to be known as "the teacher's daughter". It's a conundrum for her.

Roy is also being tormented because this man is perfect on paper but he doesn't think he deserves normal, let alone perfect. He can't bring himself to trap this upstanding man in the chaos that is his life. Meanwhile Jason is split between his long forgotten crush who seems to be the solution for his miserable romantic life and trying to keep his secret from him.

They flirt, then regret it, then get flustered by the other, then flirt again in a cyclic back and forth that feels safe but doesn't get them anywhere. They keep getting so close to an actual date, but Jason keeps chickening out at the last possible second. The other teachers are desperate for them to resolve their weird tension because sir, this is a place of learning.

Then some villain holds the school hostage while Roy is out of town, and while he gets there Lian and Jason have to keep the rest of the school safe. When Roy arrives Jason knows his cover is blown and he'll probably have to move cities but he's also relieved for the back up. They end up at the Harper's later to patch up and Lian is so excited about the whole thing because her cool teacher is even cooler now, right dad?

Meanwhile Roy, who may not have known the second Robin much but is not stupid, is connecting the dots. These two men are staring into each other's eyes with the intensity of the sun like "don't you dare". They manage to stay civil until Lian retires to shower and from then on it's madness.

Finally Roy understands why "Mr. Peterson" has been rejecting his advances all this time. Jason begs him not to tell his family, he doesn't want to go back after how everything went down and how they seem to have forgotten him. Roy tries to defend Dick but in the end decides to pick his battles and agrees not to tell as long as Jason will finally give him that date they've been talking about. If that's why he said no all those times, of course, if he's not interested then that's fine...but Jason accepts.

When Lian comes back she announces her approval and demands a raise to her grades for her instrumental role in getting them together. She gets a fresh batch of cookies instead, which isn't the same, but will suffice.

#jayroy #long post #got carried away sorry this was going to be shorter fjksmsmsem #lian harper #royjay

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Never Have I Ever

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)

“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”

You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.

“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.

“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.

“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”

The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.

“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.

“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”

The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.

Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.

“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.

Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.

Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.

“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”

“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”

You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.

“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”

“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”

Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.

“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”

You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”

Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”

You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”

Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”

You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”

Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.

“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”

There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.

“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”

There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.

The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.

As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.

These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.

***

“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”

You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.

“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.

“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.

Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”

A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.

The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.

About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”

Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.

“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.

Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”

You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.

“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.

You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.

You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.

“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.

But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.

“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”

You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.

“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.

“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.

The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”

Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.

Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”

From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.

“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.

“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.

You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.

As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

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