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rjthirsty · 20 hours

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Bound Forever

Gilbert/Reader Roderic/Reader

Words: 2k

CW: Major Character Death. Angst. Tragedy. Grief. Smut. Route Spoilers.

A/N: @scummy-writes did a piece on Gilbert dying called Normalcy Bias that inspired this piece. We've spoken at length about our Gil headcanons, and I admire her as a writer, so I wanted to give myself a chance to mimic the depth of emotion I read in her works. I'm honestly hoping to cause some tears with this.

Gilbert had disappeared again.

It was always terrifying when he vanished, because you knew the only reason he had for leaving without saying a word - he was unwell. Like a wounded or sick animal, Gil removed himself from the palace to find a place he could rest until either he felt better or he perished. Thankfully he had always returned, but you still hated every time he left, feeling helpless and worried sick that you might not see him again.

Walter knew before you did. He always knew when Gil left, but he wasn't allowed to say anything. That, in itself, was a giveaway on why you couldn't find your husband. Just looking at Walter these days answered the question for you since you had danced this routine enough times to know when Gil had told him to keep things from you. Today, Walter refused to make eye contact with you when you visited his office in the medical ward, pretending like he didn't see you enter. You didn't even need to ask. That was enough.

Roderic knew, though he didn't know where Gil ran off to, or even if it was the same location each time. Walter was likely the only one who truly knew where Gil was. Roderic was painfully aware whenever Gilbert disappeared, scared that his master - his friend - would never return. Since you became a part of their lives, Roderic would stay with you on those long days that Gil vanished and the two of you would hold hands and try to keep each other's minds off the possibility. Neither of you wanted to voice that possibility.

As night fell, the black castle felt darker and more hollow without Gilbert's presence. Alone in your shared room, you restlessly waited for your husband's return. Some absences would span a few days, some only a few hours. Today turned to tomorrow, and a sleepless night passed you by with still no word from him.

Another day with Roderic for company. Another attempt to keep your thoughts from spiraling to the worst case. Perhaps baking would help. Gil could return to an abundance of sweets and maybe, just maybe he'll understand how hard it is for you when he goes off like this.

Another dusk leaving you alone with your fears for company in your shared room. Another sleepless night. Another morning that looks more gray than the previous. Three days was the longest he had ever spent away. It had only been two. There was still hope he would return, though that hope was a candle in the fury of a storm right now, barely keeping lit.

“You need to sleep.” Walter scolded.

“I want to see him as soon as he comes home.” It was a silly reason to keep yourself from sleeping, but even if you attempted to rest, you'd be haunted by the thought of him dying somewhere alone. He was alone right now. Alone and sick.

“I'll wake you when he gets back.” Roderic offered.

You're tired. A short rest would be good for you, but… “I'm scared.”

The tears start falling as you hug yourself. Walter looks away, cursing Gilbert for putting you through this. Roderic watches you, unable to offer any assurances. He's scared, too.

Laying on the large bed you share with your husband, it feels so cold and empty. The sunshine doesn't touch here even with the curtains opened. Your pillow is wet from your tears. You can't seem to quell them.

“I'll be right outside,” Roderic promises.

What good would that do? You're still alone in this large room. Exhaustion weighs your eyelids down until you fall into darkness.

You wake into darkness. The large windows are filled with the night sky. The room has no candles nor lamps lit. A shadow stands near the bed, far enough that his presence is hidden but the dull, midnight light from the sky beyond the windows outlines his form. His black hair shines like obsidian and you draw in a sharp breath.

“Gil?” You whisper his name, fearful that the slightest noise would wake you from this dream and he would fade away like an apparition.

He doesn't answer. He's not really there. Again tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks.

“Don't cry, Little Rabbit.” He steps towards the bed, out of the shadows. “Did you miss me that much?”

His red eye gleams from the starlight. His smile is perfectly placed. Now that he's closer you can see the layers he's wearing, still in his cloak, he must have just arrived. You glance towards the door, wondering why Roderic didn't wake you. The closed door gives no answers, though it is clearly late so perhaps he went to bed.

Throwing the blankets off, you jump out of bed and run to your love. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle into his chest and the tears come faster. “Yes, I missed you that much!”

Shakily drawing in breaths between your outpouring of feelings and the sobs you try to swallow down, you continue as you cling to him. “Everytime you leave like that I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again! It's been three days! I thought the worst and I couldn't sleep and you can't keep doing this to me!”

Slowly, Gil's arms wrap and you. Gently, he rubs circles on your back to soothe you. He leans down to softly drop a warm kiss to your forehead. He has no words to comfort you. He makes no promises. He never does.

“That was the last time.”

Except, this time he does.

He's warm in your arms.

You draw back as the horrible realization hits you. Looking up into his single red eye that holds more emotions than Gil ever expressed, you take a step backwards. Shaking your head as if it would do any good to convince yourself this wasn't happening, you back up another step.

“No no no. No. Please. No!” A third step has you stumbling into the bed, falling onto it. You can't even feel your legs anymore.

The man posing as Gilbert slowly came closer. The man who hadn't woke you on your husband's return, because he had never returned. Roderic delicately cups your jaw. Warm hands. He wipes your tears, even as new ones fall. Warm fingers. He speaks in such a sweet voice. A voice you love. “It's alright, Little Rabbit. You won't have to miss me ever again.”

Grief so deep you never thought possible drowns your heart and sobs wrack you. Warm lips kiss your eyes as your pain pours out.

Somehow he was on the bed next to you and you fall against his shoulder. Warm arms hold you close.

He murmurs words of affection and hushes soothing encouragement. And when your sobs finally die down to hiccups and gasps and shuddering breaths, you find a handkerchief already in hand to help clean your face. He guides you through the movements you are too numb to manage on your own.

His lips touch the corner of your mouth. Dazed, you turn towards him and your husband's face looks so forlorn. Fingers touch below your chin, lifting it for lips once again to touch yours. So soft. A slow blink from you and you find your voice.

“Roderic–”

“Gil.” He corrects, and the offer is so tempting.

You knew this was always the plan. You hoped it would be a long time from now, and you had pushed it from your mind. But the time has come and now… it would be so easy to close your eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream.

“Gil.” You repeat, your eyelids falling close.

“That's right, Little Rabbit.”

It's his voice that gusts across your lips.

A nibble on your bottom lip and a longing sigh rises from your throat. It's his teeth that catches you, so familiar in pain and pleasure.

His tongue touches yours and you can almost believe that he's still there with you. Your mouths move together, chasing the memory of the man you love through clumsy movements that aren't quite right.

It hurts so much. Your chest aches and head throbs and you just want to forget.

Fingers find clasps, and pull ties, and brush clothing from both of your bodies. Were they yours or his? Does it matter?

Teeth sink into flesh and tongue soothes the pain and your body responds to the training you've endured to appreciate the way his love feels on you. Marks blossom on your skin from his mouth that burns too hot.

Your eyes burn, tears forming between eyelids squeezed tight.

Your chest burns, bleeding out from the inside.

Your groin burns, desire whispering sweetly that if you just let go it'll be alright.

Think of him.

It hurts so, so much.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers push inside of you. You cry out his name as he rubs along your inner walls, exploring you for the first time, finding the places that cause you to buck into his hand and whimper and moan.

He learns quickly. He has always known.

New overlaps with old as your husband touches on memories from times before. Building that sweet ache in the pit of your belly. Causing your cunt to throb and drip making lewd sounds that your lusty moans overshadow.

You're on your back and he's over you. When did you lie down? He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper in frustration. You were so close to covering the hurt in your heart with the pleasure of climax and he snatched it away.

He's gone.

A single sob breaks between your gasping breaths. Tears brim again between your closed eyelids. They fall hot, so hot down the sides of your face. You're empty. Alone.

His cock touches your wet folds and you crack your eyes to see your lover with damp lashes. He looks away and buries his face in your neck as he buries his cock inside of you. Your back arches and thighs cling to his hips, as he clings to you with strong arms and roaming hands.

He pumps into you and you can't help but rock with him to squeeze and drag and churn his dick inside of you. Fingers digging into his back. Nails biting skin. He gasps and whimpers and moans near your ear. You love to hear him. His teeth dig into you. It hurts so good.

You're not alone. Your voice grows louder. He's relentless. Pounding your sex and knocking every moan out of you. Biting you again, and again, and again. Your cunt clenching tight as the pressure in your pelvis reaches a tipping point.

His thrusts turn too eager. His rhythm lopes out of pace. But you're so, so close! Please! Just– “Ah! Gil!” His hot hands grip your hips and he slams into you finding his rhythm again and he moans and heat and orgasm and shivers and spasms snap through you.

Your thoughts go blank, flooded with relief from the throbbing from before. Euphoria washes over you, wave after wave as your cunt continues to clench sending another crashing over you, then another. Gil slowed down his pumping to ride out the squeezing milking his cock. And just as you finally thought you were coming to the end of your climax, Gil thrusts deeper, his pelvis flush against yours, trying to push further still as he spills his seed into you.

You gasp. He breathes heavily on top of you. You hold him pressed against you– too hot. So hot. He's stifling. He clings to you. He needs you to smother his own pain. Pain you understand because the both of you share it. Pain neither of you can ever talk about.

He's gone. The two of you are together but his absence in this room you share with your husband is felt, as if there was a void that could never be filled. You hold each other, your hearts bleeding for the same person. Silent tears will be shed and it hurts. So. So. Much.

#ikepri fanfic #spoilers #ikepri gilbert #ikepri roderic #female reader #ikemen prince #rjthirsty fanfic #smut #grief #gilbert von obsidian

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nexus-nebulae · 2 years

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do my sleep meds make my fucking time blindness worse

#i swap between different sleep aids just to make sure my tolerance levels to the meds don't rise too quickly #but the past two days ive been taking one that i haven't used in a Bit #and for the past two days the entire night and day has passed in about 2 minutes #and my memory is worse than usual #and I'm way more fatigued #and i think it's the meds fault #but here's the thing: do i continue to put up with these symptoms and risk them getting Worse #or do i not take it and then just stop being able to sleep ever #like i think the sleep is more important considering if i don't take a sleep aid i will be awake for 48 hours straight #and then be unable to sleep more than three hours #and then my psychosis goes fucking hogwild because that Happens when you're severely sleep deprived #so i kind of HAVE to keep taking it #but then i just end up a useless tired blob in bed all day because my muscles won't move and my brain keeps shutting down #it's like. lesser of two evils yeah. but I'm still fucked.#and considering i went to a sleep doctor and she looked at my meds and said 'yea sorry this is the best we got'#and then sent me out the door with a 'sorry but we can't do anything for u :('#i can't even switch to anything else #so. great.#and i can't even use just over the counter melatonin bc my tolerance to that rises so fast I'd risk poisoning myself within a month #taking 4 or 5 melatonin each night isn't safe but any less and it just doesn't affect me at all

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kandlewick · 18 days

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everyone awoke to malleus defeated. except for you meant to be read as platonic malleyuu but can be read as romantic.

Malleus could hardly breathe. every inhale felt like it was too small, like the air surrounding him was too thin. His lungs were empty, barren, and dry. And then he would exhale. a shaky breath. It rattled his bones and burned in his chest. As if nothing but flames raged in his insides. Before him laid a friend, a betrayed comrade, someone who put too much trust in the wrong people. You. You were asleep there, in a bed of thorns and roses, nestled deep and safe. Each petal cradled your cheek like a picture frame and you were a work of art. It all felt so clinical, so far away that Malleus could hardly tear his eyes away from your sleeping form. while constricted by vines to your familiar bed in ramshackle, no thorns pierced your skin. you knew no pain lying there. only dreams. It hardly felt real.

Malleus had made a mistake. He knew he had as soon as the blot began pouring from behind his tongue. but he couldn't stop it. the delirium. it poured out of him like a cracked glass of sand. In those fleeting moments, nothing had mattered more to him. The blot retched every single negative emotion out of his soul, bearing it for the world to bear witness to. And he was ashamed.

but you and the others had succeeded against him, saving all of your classmates and himself from the curse of eternal slumber. One by one, they all began awakening. Eyelids fluttering in the new morning sun. He awoke to the sound of laughter and cheers while he laid there on the broken floor, alone and empty and so so cold. Quietly, Malleus raised his head to thank? Curse? The Ramshackle prefect that laid beside him.

only, you remained there. asleep. too far gone and too far deep for anyone to reach out to. it was like your soul and body were separated, torn asunder. the only sign of life was your chest moving up and down from the breath that filled your lungs. At the moment, Malleus thought perhaps you were simply exhausted, with the heavy bags under your eyes and the pale complexion dusting your cheeks. Like the others, he thought that you only needed more rest. But days passed and there were still no signs of life behind those closed eyes. The teachers talked amongst themselves, unwilling or perhaps unable to offer any sort of explanation. There were talks about asking for assistance from other bodies but they were quick to be shot down. It seemed like nobody knew what to do with you. Or… your body.

Nobody took it well.

Malleus in particular had ceased his studies, locking himself away in your room in Ramshackle. Ace and Deuce would appear on occasion, Grim in tow, but the three were quick to make themselves scarce once Malleus made it clear he was not leaving your bedside. He sat there for hours, uncaring of the passing of time as night became morning and dawn became dusk. What were mere days to a nigh immortal fae. If this was his curse, to watch the one human who befriended him and suffered for it waste away from his own folly, then so be it. Every morning, like clockwork, he sat there. Unflinching. Unmoving. Like a gargoyle. His eyes were empty and red, long dried from tears but he couldn’t drag himself away from you - he refused to even think of calling you a corpse.

This day was like any other. He sat there beside you, his hands in his lap, the book he had foolishly planned to humor to read had been cast aside long forgotten, but for some reason the sight of you there pricked at his heart more than before. His voice came out quiet, weak from disuse, but he made an effort all the same.

“My child of man.” he croaked, his tone heavy with shame and sadness, “I will not ask you for forgiveness.”

He took a shaky breath. Hesitantly, he reached out with a weak hand and clasped your own. The thorns around you pricked him and drew blood, but he paid no mind to it. He felt nothing. Numb. Malleus choked back tears as he pulled your hands close to his chest and against his still beating heart. He lowered his head in agony as he confessed like a convict at death’s door. “What I have done to you is unforgivable.”

He held you to him. Like if he held onto you tight enough, you wouldn’t fall even more to pieces. “You were my first true friend, my closest companion. The only one who treated me as if I was an equal…” He bit back a sob as he tried to cradle his face between his hands, desperate for your touch to once again warm his bones. But there was nothing. Only the cold. “And now I’ve lost you.”

“And not a day shall pass in the centuries that I am cursed to live will I ever forget your smile.” Then with an almost reverent touch, the prince brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. His lips stayed there, the taste of salt and skin filling his tongue, but he made no effort to move while he cried.

So far gone was he that he never noticed the batting of eyelashes, the furrowed brows, or the intake of breath. So far gone that it wasn’t until he felt your hand, tiny and weak, press against his dark hair, did he lift his head.

“Good morning, Hornton.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #reader insert #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #i love platonic malleyuu ok #also hes quoting maleficent from her movie and i love platonic love so sosososo much #also hornton is OBJECTIVELY the funnier name i stand by this

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 7 months

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5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t.

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state.

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot.

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.”

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip.

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you.

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in.

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds.

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack.

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step.

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window.

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening.

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in.

The next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans.

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could.

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission.

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake.

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep.

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.”

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in.

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you.

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission.

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee.

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes?”

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.”

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back.

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together.

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering.

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.”

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent.

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together.

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat.

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark.

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work.

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage.

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him.

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it.

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?”

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms.

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing.

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it.

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much.

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick.

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding.

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone.

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him.

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you.

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk.

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -”

“Absolute embarrassment -”

“Can’t believe they let her in -”

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him.

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear.

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music.

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!”

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost.

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk.

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-”

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”

Was he still here? Fucking asshole.

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist.

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music.

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it.

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?”

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose.

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?”

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away.

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it?

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut.

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door.

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step.

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.”

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop.

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control.

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?”

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?”

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs.

“Sure.” He sighed.

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed.

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need-”

“Stay.”

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt.

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place.

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?”

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water.

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast.

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him.

“Hmm?”

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water.

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.”

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something.

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it?

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway.

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break.

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch.

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow.

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.”

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring.

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-”

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised.

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food.

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled.

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first.

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him.

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -”

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -”

“You’ll share with me, right doll?”

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.”

“Bucky -” Sam started.

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-”

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose.

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping.

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted.

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest.

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you.

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t.

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds.

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone.

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you.

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed?

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room.

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip.

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible.

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see.

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky.

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

“You’re right.”

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone.

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver.

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered.

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did.

“I miss you too.”

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -”

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away.

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“What if I want to?”

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter.

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek.

“You do?”

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him.

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.”

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips.

“Uh huh, I did,”

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.”

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss.

“How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses.

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start.

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you.

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I guess we do, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky

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poisonf0rest · 2 months

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 2

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp

word count: 6.6K

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.

When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew.

You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow.

Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.

You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.

But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.

The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.

It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate.

She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.

You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.

Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.

Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse.

Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.

Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.

Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.

You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.

Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.

Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.

His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.

Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.

Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.

Well, that went splendidly.

You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.

Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before.

—----

Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind.

He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult.

So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head?

And the way you said please.

Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face.

He sees you every time he closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.

This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.

But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more.

The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now…

And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places.

It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.

Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.

God, he should have just asked you out on a date first.

Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room.

But no, when it came to you, everything failed him.

Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.

Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you?

“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.”

He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”

Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.

He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.

But you are different.

The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.

He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.

Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.

God, Zayne wants to ruin you.

He wants so badly it drives him mad.

Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.

A date.

That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners.

You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline.

Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.

Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack.

The annual charity gala.

As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?

Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.

No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment.

It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.

Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.

So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity.

He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes.

______

Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.

"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.

It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.

Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."

A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.

Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”

You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”

Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat.

So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?”

You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.”

"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead.

“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want.

Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"

He shrugs. "I've had some experience."

"I'm sure you have."

Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked.

"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.

"Right, research."

"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.”

The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.

"And you’re sure that's the reason?”

"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.

You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books? Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."

"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."

"Oh? What’s the other then?"

Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green.

You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.”

“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.”

But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road.

It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.

Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.

And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.

"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."

"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.

"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"

"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”

"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”

Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.

“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."

The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard.

You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat.

Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did.

You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch.

God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.

Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.

And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up.

Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head.

“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.

The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.

It made you want to push him further.

You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt.

"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."

You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."

"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."

You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke.

Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.

You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is.

You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.

The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."

The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing.

You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.

You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.

You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.

“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”

The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.

It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.

"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.

“Answer the question.”

Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder.

“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”

A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?”

Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.

"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?”

It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats.

“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.

You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.

Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.

You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window.

"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.

"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."

"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"

"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.

You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties.

Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin.

All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.

Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.

If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain.

“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head. “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.”

Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.

But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again.

“Clean up your mess.”

You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that.

Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper.

Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears.

His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip.

“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back.

“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”

The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer.

“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”

Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Zayne-”

He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop.

You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high.

Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.

Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.

Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.

Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders.

But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.

Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.

Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.

Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle.

When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face.

But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne

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punkshort · 5 months

Text

i know who you are | 6. the fight

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness

WC: 8K

Series Masterlist

The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.

For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.

You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.

It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.

No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.

And not just any woman. Angie.

It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.

And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.

That fucking asshole.

When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.

The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.

"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.

"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"

She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.

"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.

"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.

"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.

"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."

"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.

"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.

It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.

And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.

"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."

"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."

"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"

The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.

It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.

As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.

Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.

"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."

"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.

"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.

"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"

"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."

"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.

"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."

You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.

Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.

He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.

"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.

"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.

"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.

"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.

"Your pain was that bad?"

"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."

"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.

As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.

If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.

It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.

Without even thinking, you stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.

"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.

"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.

By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.

You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.

Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"

All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.

"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.

"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."

Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.

"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"

Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.

"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"

Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.

"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"

You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.

Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.

That was when Angie saw her opportunity.

She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.

Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.

Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.

"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."

Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.

With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.

You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.

"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.

Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.

"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.

"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"

"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.

"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.

"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.

"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.

"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.

"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.

"I'll clean you up."

"You don't-"

"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.

You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.

She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.

"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.

"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.

"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.

"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."

"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.

"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."

"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."

She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.

"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.

"It's complicated."

She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."

You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.

"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"

"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.

"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.

Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.

The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.

Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.

He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.

"How're you feelin'?"

"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.

"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.

"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.

"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.

"You do?"

"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."

He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.

"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.

"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"

"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."

"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.

I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.

You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.

"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.

He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.

But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.

Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.

The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.

Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.

She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.

"How're you feeling?"

You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."

"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"

With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.

"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.

Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.

"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.

He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.

The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.

"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."

"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.

"Maria home?"

"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.

"I gotta ask for a favor."

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.

"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"

"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.

"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"

"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.

"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."

"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.

"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.

"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."

"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.

Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.

Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.

"Let's hear it."

Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."

"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."

"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."

"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.

"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.

Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.

"What'dya need me to do?"

It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.

Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.

Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.

Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.

He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.

Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.

It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.

You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.

Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.

As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.

Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.

He knows why.

No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.

Joel

Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.

What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?

You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.

"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.

"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.

"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"

"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"

You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.

Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.

"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.

He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.

"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."

"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.

"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.

"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.

"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.

"What was his plan?"

"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"

"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.

"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."

Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.

"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"

They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.

"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."

"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."

"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.

"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.

Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.

"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.

"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."

Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."

You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."

"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."

"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."

"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.

Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."

Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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whateveriwant · 6 months

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Some thoughts about girl dad!Simon during bedtime because he means everything to me (prev: dinnertime, bathtime).

Simon Riley who has to spend a solid hour every night trying to wear his three year old down before bed.

Simon Riley who’s convinced his daughter’s veins must flow with caffeine rather than blood because she seems to never get tired.

Simon Riley who notices her eyelids finally starting to droop after watching no less than two and a half episodes of Bluey.

Simon Riley who gently insists it’s time for bed now even as she begs him, “One more, Daddy!”

Simon Riley who lets her give you a kiss and hug goodnight before leading her by the hand to her room.

Simon Riley who has his little girl pick out which bedtime story she wants him to read her for the night.

Simon Riley who carefully tucks her into bed before displaying the grace of an elephant as he tries to squeeze onto the tiny mattress beside her.

Simon Riley who has to apologize to Mr. Bear for having accidentally squashed him, kissing him better per his daughter’s orders.

Simon Riley who meticulously reads each line of the picture book to her, giving her a good look at the illustrations before turning the page.

Simon Riley who makes it a game to see who can point out the two little kittens and the pair of mittens first (she wins, of course).

Simon Riley who doesn’t even get halfway through the story before his little girl is out like a light.

Simon Riley who uses every single ounce of core strength he has not to jostle her awake as he goes to stand up.

Simon Riley who makes sure her blankets and stuffies are all orderly, unable to resist the urge to give a soft stroke to her little, round cheek.

Simon Riley who flicks on the Hello Kitty night light beside her bed before turning the other lights off.

Simon Riley who gingerly tiptoes to the door, praying the floorboards don’t squeak beneath his weight.

And Simon Riley who keeps the door to his daughter’s bedroom cracked just a little, whispering, “Sweet dreams, love,” as he leaves her to sleep.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

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redcherrykook · 1 month

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── .˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TENSION DEGREE 03

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College roomate!Jungkook x college roomate!reader- fwb 2 Lovers

You find yourself having to share your room with a very sexually active medical science major who so happens to fancy you. Good thing he´s as charming and spontaneous as you, leading to many crazy parties and places you probably should not be hooking up at. When Jungkook started ignoring all his booty calls after accidentally calling someone by your name, unable to fuck away the thought of you, he knew he was cooked. Would he really leave his playboy antics for that sweet company of yours?

series- three!

content: mild slow burn- fwb2l, roomates, mutual pining, player jungkook that falls devoted to reader, cocky!JK, Confident!reader, psychology major reader, banter, parties, lots of smut (duh), only one bed trope, skinny dipping, roadtrip vibes

episode- warnings: alcohol, sexual content (praise kink, oral fem. rec., brief grinding, penetrative sex, making out), feelings of shame around sex

Taglist: @khadeeeeej @ot7stansthings @whoa-jo @smoljjks @stvrlighytt @nono13bnd @jungshaking @junniesoleilkth @deepikhaprakash @rockstryoon @tatamicc @jjeonjjk7 @kookieandjoonberries @jcrl99 @httpjeonlicious @wnteraezz @aphrodyteeth @miniesjams32 @emojkoo @katie-tibo @user-190811 @massivebearharmony @hoseokteardrop @hoseoksluv89 @hoseoksluv90

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Day two of summer vacay in chae's wonderful beach house rolls around with the morning sun enlightening your eyes,

Jungkook ran back yesterday night after encountering that yes, the air is much colder after having been in the water

With a shower you were to tired to take, he had gone to sleep after you,

As planned, waking up with your backs turned to each other

You wish, at least

"Shit" you curse under your breath, rubbing your tired eyes once meeting with that tired face of his,

Still shirtless, in grey shorts,

Thick, morning boner full on display,

His soft sleeping sounds reminding you not to be creepy, however, you couldn't help but analyze the features on his pretty face,

Round, big nose, straight dark eyebrows, beautiful brown doe eyes that are kissed closed by sleep, tiny moles and to crown it, plump little lips with the most sexiest of Piercings,

"Done now?" He smirks, opening his eyes afterwards

You scoff, immediately getting up from the bed,

"Wasn't looking" you mumble, walking into the bathroom,

"At least admit it. I also admitted to staring at your tits yesterday" he groans playfully, tossing around once more

"Creep" you Laugh, throwing a towel from the bathroom on his face,

The laughter gets echoed right back to you, alongside the words

"They look great, what can a man do"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The beach is one of the most peaceful places on earth,

At least it used to be,

Not anymore for Jungkook, who had watched his best friends back get massaged and coated in sunscreen by no other than Hoseok,

The guy who's been talking about how hot she is,

The one constantly looking at your body like its on display for purchase,

It had especially become a place of Chaos when he felt his hands itch to replace his, to feel your body under his hands and be the one making you moan out of satisfaction

It was a place of peace,

Before you and Hoseok watched your best friend , Jungkook, go and make out with some girl you played volleyball with mere hours ago

Shamelessly, he walked over as she sat there alone, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while she giggled, stroking his arm and tugging on it

The look he gave her, licking at his lips while staring down her very exposed chest,

The little black swimsuit doing nothing to cover her full breasts,

And when he kissed her, pulling her in by the neck before crashing their lips together,

You just looked at Hoseok who's mouth was hung wide open,

"Oh don't mind him that's normal" you stroke his shoulder, laughing softly as his wide eyes shift from the show to your own, neutral ones

Jungkook wasn't one to stop because of a new location,

If anything, he likes the thrill of a new type of girl

"Is it though? Does he even know her name?" Hoseok exclaims, pointing at them

"His hand oh my god jungkook what the fuck" he says again, slapping his hand over his mouth dramatically

You giggle again, laying back down to resume your tanning sesh, this time, ass facing upwards,

"She probably told him but i bet he forgot. Ignore it really"

So he listens, ripping his eyes away from the scene to get back to his book

Jungkook continues to seduce the girl in his arms, while trying his best not to remain eye contact with your ass so perfectly in line of sight

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that night, after Hoseoks fifth drink, the situation gets brought up again,

And again, and again

A rather quiet yoongi even joining in to praise Jungkook of his womanizer charms,

It doesn't bother you,

Does it?

"Why did you go up here so early?" He asks when shutting the door of your shared room,

You shrug, unable to explain it yourself

Now standing in front of each other, a couple meters away, he chuckles,

"Jealous?"

one simple word,

You shake your head, "why would i be? If you wanna bang someone you dont even know that's on you kook"

Admittedly that came out a lot more bitter than intented,

"Oh come on like you don't wanna sleep with Hobi?" sternly, he scoffs, stepping closer to you,

"No? And if i did what's that to do with you?" replying a bit harsher in tone than anticipated once more, he grins clearly amused at your growing frustration

The air gets heavy with his silence, sounds of his steps approaching you making up for the loss of conversation,

"Because it makes me mad, bunny" he begins, assertively looking into your wake eyes,

Followed by sighs as he´s looking down briefly,

"That he meets you for two days and gets to have a chance with you, while I've been lusting after you like a bitch in heat"

The words get stolen out of your head and tongue, unable to register a reply that's thought out,

"I didn't sleep with her. I didn't want to either" his voice is moving your thoughts around into incoherent messages, syllable by syllable

"Every time we play this little back and forth, god i just want to take you then and there" you swear his tone dropped a lot lower, gentleness remaining in the way he speaks his truth,

spilling out like a curse

It´s too late to hold back, too much has been said for him to chicken out now,

Trying to hide his sweating palms beneath the mask of cockiness, a smug smile making up for the roraring noise inside his mind,

Why did I say that?

You're smiling too at this point, whether out of shock or liking,

You have to admit, it feels good, being wanted

Wanted by someone you want just as much

"I'm sorry for being so pushy, just, tell me to stop" he whispers, hands finding your waist as he pulls you in,

Closeness isn't enough to describe the position, your chest pressed against his upper stomach, your hands around his back while his grip stays on your waist,

His hot breath faning over the skin on your face, tingling along the flowers of desirs he left to bloom with the passion in his eyes,

The spell breaks once your eyes meet his,

"Stop this- this is stupid" you groan, pushing his warm body away from yours,

He scrambles, surprised, his hands still resting on your waist, caressing up and down slowly,

There´s a decent amount of distance between your bodies, his touch shifting from possessive sexuality to warmth and security

Feeling your smooth skin under the roughness of his hands makes him feel calmer, knowing that it also makes you feel comfortable

"Why stupid?" He breathes out, nervously biting at his lip while his kind eyes scan over your features, landing on the look in your wide, shining eyes

Nervousness

You sigh, combing through the strands of your own hair,

How are you supposed to tell him that you want him,

Want him for more than once,

To be more than a checkmark on his list

"Just- look" you stop, placing your hands on his shoulder, his own ones stroking your waist reassuringly,

almost as in saying to keep talking to him

You're safe with him, he'll always catch you,

Like a best friend should

A storm of worry anxiety and all sorts of horny feelings engulf you, racing through the corridors of your open mind,

He listens patiently,

"I don't want to be a quick fuck and then we never speak of it again"

Visibly, he cringes, nose scrunching up while he shakes his head,

"What the fuck? Did you think that's what this is?"

Slender fingers grip the curve of your waist tighter, his face leaning closer to yours, tilted in confusion

He isn´t angry however, the sound of his voice being coated by gentleness and worry, maybe even frustration that lingers,

Contrasting the harshness of the spoken words on their own

"Well, that´s what you do isn´t it jeon? You- you sleep with them once. just, one time"

Struck by your words his face softens, his eyes grow wider at the realisation of the uncertain boundaries,

It´s true, that is what he does, but it isn´t what he wants with you, it hasn´t even crossed his mind

Instead, Jungkook's mind has become a place of hustle, a melting pot of desire and desperation,

For one, to hold you close, feel, touch, kiss every inch of your vanilla scented skin,

For two, to explain just how much more you are than a simple number,

A hookup,

"That's.. different. You're my best friend" he breathes out, looking over your delicate features,

"That is why we can't kook" you say, furrowing your brows,

"But i want you, look no i- bunny i really really need you, i know you want me too"

Silence, not the response he expected,

"Right?" he asks again, hoping for reciprocation

You bite back a small smile,

"I want you kook"

A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, nonetheless, he couldn't care less about how whiny or desperate he sounds,

Letting your thumb graze his cheek, your eyes wander to his lips,

"Just kiss me y/n, please bunny" he whispers,

"But what after? " you whisper back, anxiously recieving the butterflies in your stomach that flutter down your thighs

Your chest borderline bursting from the pounding of your heart, barely able to confine to the restrains of your body, threatening to break out

He senses it, moving his fingers up and down your waist once again,

"Friends with benefits? I want you, in every way possible physically and as my best friend. But god i can't stand another second pretending to just be joking when all i want is to make you feel good" he rambles, the moonlight slipping beneath the curtains to illuminate his already angelic face, painting his sincere expression in the most vulnerable of lights

"I'm scared" small, faint traces of sincerity hold together the half truth,

You're not just scared, you're petrified, horrified at what the future of this new version, this "us" could possibly hold,

Which doors will close,

He nods, cupping your face in both his hands,

"Me too, but we won't change. I promise bunny"

It doesn't take any more words to make yourself surrender,

Leaning into your own desires, into his trust,

He kisses you, kisses you like he's been waiting to for an eternal time,

Jungkook feels like home,

Like a cinnamon scented candle in a cold November night,

Like the stars that make your night brighten when you spend it crying,

He kisses with feeling that reminds you of your favorite tunes,

There's so much to him, so much to savor,

So you do, you do just that as you return the kiss with the same passion, intensity lingering between your lips,

His large palm wandering to the back of your head, pulling you in deeper while soft groans escape his lips muffled,

Your tongue licks at his lips, begging for more, he grins,

"kiss so good bunny, can't get enough" his praise going straight to your underwear, soaking the white lace in your fluids,

It's new to him aswell, although acurring naturally to him, like a habit, it's strange to hear himself sweet talk someone during sex,

To feel the urge to praise them, worship them,

He figures the intimate connection of being best friends is what refrains him from sticking to his usual antics, to consumed by your positive reaction to waste another thought on what may be the reason

You moan into the kiss, sweet, soft sounds filling his ears with excitment

Like a perfect storm his hand wanders down to your hip,

"Jump sweetheart" mumbling the words into the kiss didn´t change your response, immediately jumping to be caught by the thighs, automatically wrapping them around his defined waistline, snaking him close

His hands move to cup your ass under the flowy dress, squeezing while expressing about how good it feels to have your warmth spread on his,

He's intertwined with you, sewn together by the curse of greed and lust, eagerly growing as he feeds into it, pushing your body back on the bed,

His kisses haven´t stopped until now, your hand sneaking up into his shirt, small fingers delicately tracing the hardness of his abs,

"You're so fucking Hot kook" you smile into the kiss, pulling away shortly to take a peak at his swollen lips

He giggles, taking his fingers to trace the skin on your neck "oh really bunny? Like you haven't been torturing me with your skimpy lounge shorts at home?"

"Was waiting for you to man up and fuck me like one too"

Your boldness doesn't faze him, used to your confidence and the way you would deliciously drive him crazy,

Like a siren, luring him to break all his codes, only for a taste of your sweetness

Things move quickly, first his shirt gets long forgotten, discarded and abandoned somewhere in the room where your dress meets him in a matter of seconds,

"Let see how long you can keep up this bratiness" he winks, latching back on to your lips

His lips, his hands, his groans and moans reaching everywhere, they suck, lick, kiss, squeeze and caress wherever they can,

Tugging your nipples with his teeth, groping the other one up in the meantime,

You're a mess, whining and moaning, it's becoming harder not to beg and cry out for him

Abandoning your pride somwhere along the way, your fingers tug at his hair once his lips have kissed down your stomach,

"Kook please" you whine, meeting his proud eyes with your pathetic, needy one

"Such a mess, no trace of that brat left in you is there?" he says, taking your chin into his hand while showing off his satisfied smirk,

"A good little slut hm?"

The humiliation doesn't feel good, it's making you shiver with guilt and shame,

Having heard it so often from his mouth doesn't take away the sting of it,

Being grouped in as just another slut, just another girl that he got inside his bed

Sex like this, casual and nasty as it is, has never been easy for a woman as it is for a man,

While kook gets called a sexy Player for sleeping with the entire college, the girls who engage are the ones labled sluts

Determined not to ruin the moment, you blink away the feeling of disgust that rises from a pit somewhere inside,

Betrayed by the small, really, barely noticable crack of your voice when you speak,

"Yeah" is all you say, swallowing a ragged breath afterwards,

His eyes glance to yours apologetically, immediately removing his hand from your chin and using it to stroke your cheek while pulling himself up to you,

His open mouthed, warm kisses flutter all the way from your shoulder up your neck,

Low, husky vocals reaching your ears,

" m'Sorry bunny.. should have checked first" he pauses, placing a kiss to your lips carefully

"Want to stop?" he whispers, making you shake your head in return

With a last kiss to the forhead, he moves himself back to be eye Level with your hip

"S'okay bunny.. doing so good for me, can i touch you here baby?" While encouraging you, the dominance never leaves his hold,

his fingertips and kisses dance across your thighs to the waistband of the soaked panties

You nod frantically, loosing yourself in the feeling of your fingertips wrapping around his locks repeatedly,

He smiles, pulling your drenched underwear down to your ankles where he places a kiss before coming back up, tapping your knees to spread for him

He bites his lip at the sight of your glistening heat,

placing his hands under your thighs while begining to softly lick across your cunt, moving slow and torturous with each lick of his tongue between your folds,

Teasing your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly before lapping back up to suck on your clit,

"Taste so good , so sweet" he grunts on your skin, listening intently to each and every little whimper and moan, every tug on his strands pushing him to keep pleasing you,

"Gonna cum soon jungkook" thighs trembling, hands tightening he can feel you clench up,

His skilled tongue pushes you over the edge once he begins focusing on your clit,

With a groan from his side, he kisses your cunt, embracing you while you moan, enticed with your high seconds earlier,

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand finding its way to push strands of hair away from your face

When you eyes open, you're a blushing mess, kissing his lips swiftly to pull him in again,

More, you want him more,

He grins into the kiss, guiding your smaller hands to his waistband,

"Want you to take this off bunny" he mumbles,

In compliance, your hands slide the sweatpants off his body, pulling his black boxers down with,

You're practically drooling at the sight of his thick length, fully erect and blessed with a pretty pink tip,

He hums, guiding your hand to wrap around it, your thumb swiping across the tip, making him moan in return

" so big.. n you sound so good" you say, eyes locked on his body, your hand wrapped around him, abs glazed with sweat and his tattoos full on display on the muscles of his arms,

He moans softly, pulling you to straddle him, his big eyes focused on you, every part bare to him, every trace of your soft skin sticking to his,

He groans louder, head falling back once he feels the warmth of your slippery cunt coat his dick

A scene he had masturbated to more time he can recall,

nothing could compare to feeling your slick run along his shaft, to see your perky tits squeezed up in front of him,

You're long gone with all sanity, kissing and licking up his neck to elicit his pretty sounds, now from inside the room instead from outside the walls,

He massages the flesh on your hips, softly grinding you on him while you busy yourself with his neck,

The tip of his stiff cock perfectly hitting your clit with every roll of your hips

"Please kook, i need you" you whine, arms swung behind his neck, your wet, needy heat pressed firm against his hard cock,

He bites his lips, taking your cheek in his hand with a look so alluring you can't stand another second longer without him inside you

"So eager bunny, so so needy aren't we?" He smiles before pulling your face up to his, chasing after your soft lips

You moan, nodding slightly in response

While his lips kiss away at yours, his palms wander down your waist, holding your smaller form pressed onto his,

Without so much as an effort, you're lifted softly, laid on your back while he towers over you,

"Gonna take me well won't you?" He teases, running his finger down your needy pussy, begging to be filled with him,

The tip of his dick twitches, precum already dripping out from the sight of your aching heat,

He humms, reaching for a condom

"Gonna take it well kook promise" your reply is close to a whisper, laid sprawled out on your back while he's in front of you, wrapping the condom over his desperate cock,

Aching as much as you, he slaps his dick against your clit a few times,

"Be good, yeah?" he says, running his tip along your folds,

It's impossible to muster up any reply, only pathetic pleas and whines leave your lips, quivering, eyes half lidded

That doesn´t satisfy him enough, needing to hear you

"Words baby, come on, you can do it pretty" he repeats, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb,

you take his thumb into to your mouth briefly as a way to make space for time,

"Gonna be good" you whimper, stroking his stomach with your fingers

"That´s right bunny, good girl" he cooes, running his hand down your body until it rests on your inner thigh, his cock lining up with your entrance

"so tight oh god" he says, pushing his length into you inch by inch,

Filling you to him, molding you to his form,

"So deep- nhh" you're pleading, whining, almost involuntary your back is arching, craving for him to reach every crevice of your body,

As if it had been wating for him to enter, to be welcomed

"Mhmmm bunny, look at you, taking me so well" he mutters, slowly thrusting into you, with each push of his hips,

Of his strong from meeting your fragile, equally vulnerable state,

A loud whimper escapes your lips,

"Sound so pretty, prettiest girl look at you baby" he hums, one of his veiny hands reaching to squeeze your breasts, he tugs at your nipple, earning a loud moan from you

His tongue darts out to swipe across his lips, grunting, eyebrows furrowed in concentration,

then, hips angle, hands pushing into your own soft ones, pulling him in deeper,

"You feel so good kook! So mh- so full" you stutter out, eyes rolling into the back of your head

He's on top of you, but he's everywhere,

His scent lingering on your skin, in your senses, his voice and the way he groans engraved into your memory, addicting you to him,

His hands and lips claiming each and every spot as his, you belong to him now,

"You're so pretty, fuck so tight" he moans lowly, kissing you shortly after,

You know it now, the final part of him

Once his small moans pick up in sync with the pace of his powerful thrusts,

You can't help but sing along,

Singing his name like it was the most beautifully composed melody known to you, the only thing on your mind

Him,

His kisses

His cock

His fucking face

Over and over the melody leaves your lips,

"Kook! Kook!Kook!"

A song familiar to you, one you heard countless of times slipping through your paper thin walls,

Only now you are the one singing it.

"Thats it bunny, sound so good" he groans into your shoulder, savoring every inch of your skin he can kiss while thrusting his hips into you,

You tighten around him, feeling the knot in your stomach close to snapping,

"Mhh fuck baby gonna come for me?" He asks, licking along your ear, his hands still secured on your hips to hold you still as he pounds,

The flesh of your full hips turning white under his tight grip, but you don´t care,

It feels too good

"Yes kook gonna come" you gasp, the sensation of his finger rubbing small circles along your puffy, swollen clit overwhelming you,

"Come for me, pretty, doing so fucking good"

The knot in your stomach snaps, shaking through your system loudly, wrecking beneath him with a loud moan that seems so strange coming from your voice,

Uterlly submitted to him, your hands digging into the skin of his shoulder, leaving a trace of evidence that you painted him,

Stained him with your body,

With your wholeness.

He knew too, that he'd be addicted now

"Good girl that's it baby, came so well- fuck" his voice rings softly in your ear,

His head lifting from your shoulder,

Once his drained eyes meet your face,

So flushed out, pink and sweaty, pleasure coating your skin in the most darling ways,

He's never seen someone so flawlessly beautiful,

Hard, slow thrusts follow your orgasm, allowing you to enjoy it to the very last drop of your essence that has dripped on to him,

Also allowing him to reach his own high, overtaken by your beauty, by the way you feel colliding with his body,

"Gonna come bunny, feel so perfect ´round my cock" he grunts, leaning his face down to press a hasty kiss on your swollen lips,

Eyes closing, the time stops for him,

Stops for the feel of his lips moving against yours,

For the sounds that are trapped below the kiss,

And that's when he releases too,

Moaning a loud, deep moan into your lips, his hips halting inside you as he´s practically collapsing on top of your frame

The sounds of your breath panting onto each others face comforting you from the intensity

"Did you.. feel good too?" you pant, moving your nails along his back,

He places a small kiss on your cheek, "You´re perfect bunny, don´t worry" he says with averted eyes, barely able to be kept open well into the night

Shielding you from his smile, from the one placed on your face as well,

So close to yours,

Beneath the tilt of his head, creeping closer while focused on your lips,

There lies something much deeper, bubbling inside your entirety

Once his soft lips lock on yours, his smile slight but you feel it, feel it through the soft motions,

Once you realize he's stroking your hair, fingers tangling through your messy strands,

Even the pounding of your heart doesn't seem to matter anymore.

"Let me get you cleaned bunny" he mumbles against your lips before getting up for a warm towel.

#jungkook fanfic #redcherrykook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook

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pastorpresent · 29 days

Text

Since Logan moved in, it was finally deemed that their singular double bed was an unrealistic sleeping arrangement for three people. It had barely worked when it was just him and Al, but Logan was fucking huge and most of the time the older mans attempts at sleeping on the lumpy, cocaine stuffed couch would end up with him on the floor and aching the next day.

Wade saved up and managed to find a sofa bed that would actually fit in their tiny living room (which he only did so Logan would stop bitching, obviously. He only worked an extra thirty hours ish because Logan was pissing him off with his moaning, and Wade was prepared to kill anyone who suggested otherwise).

Originally, it was supposed to be for Logan - but him being the annoyingly gracious gentleman he was, he offered it up to Al since it was now the most comfortable sleeping option going. (Wade once tried to tell him to give it up, that Al didn't have a good side to get on, but then he'd been proven wrong by the fact that Al was fucking smitten by the bastard. Wade was convinced they were conspiring against him.)

It left them both sharing the double bed and, again, Logan was fucking huge. Even if Wade made every effort to restrain himself and lie strictly on the very edge of the bed, nine times out of ten he'd wake up the next morning curled around the big hunk of muscle.

It felt... so fucking good. Wade wasn't a cuddler, funnily enough, but there was just something about it being Logan specifically. He'd genuinely never felt safer than he did wrapped up in his arms, listening to the quiet snores of the older man and feeling his heart beat right up against his own.

And it's not like it was a conscious thing he was doing - he was literally asleep! Plus Logan never objected, and he always cuddled back, and sometimes there was a tiny and disgustingly hopeful voice in the recesses of his mind asking if their position was due to Logan pulling him in rather than Wade's unconscious and persistent disregard for personal space.

They'd had this unspoken, completely-undiscussed-for-any-period-of-time-whatsoever arrangement for about two months when one night Wade woke up to agonising pain.

He blinked blearily, brain still half asleep as he struggled to comprehend what was going on, and his first thought was Logan. If someone had broken in, what if he was hurt too? What if they'd found a way to kill him? It felt like he was dying, with the horrific sharp stabbing in his sides scratching his heart and popping both lungs like balloons, leaving him unable to breathe properly as his chest sucked inwards. What if he was truly dying? And worse still - what if they'd found a way to kill Logan?

There was a soft growl that tapered off into a small whimper just inches from his face, and he forced himself to calm down and focus.

They were locked in their usual embrace, but when Wade looked up at Logan's face, it was screwed up. He was shaking his head rapidly, breaths coming out short and laboured, his eyes still tightly closed.

It was then he realised what the source of his own pain was. Six adamantium claws piercing through both sides of his body, ripping up his organs into gruesome confetti.

Shit.

Logan thrashed a little, his claws deepening, and Wade cried out a little at the explosion of pain. He lifted an arm and clamped it down onto Logan's forearm to not only steady himself, but to try to get the man to wake up from whatever nightmare he was having. Wade knew too well about how violently real they could feel. It really wasn't a stretch or exaggeration to say that seeing the frightened look on Logan's sleeping face, usually the only time he got to look some sort of peaceful, was more hurtful than any of the physical pain Wade was currently experiencing.

When he gripped Logan's arm, he was shaking like a leaf.

"Logan," he called, struggling around his rearranged insides, tightening his grip on the man's arm in an attempt to ground him.

Logan snarled, embedding his claws deeper until they were peeking out the opposite sides of Wade's body, his warm fists pressing against skin, and if Wade could bring himself to focus on anything other than the blindingly white shot of pain or the emotional turmoil on his best friends face he may of mourned his now tattered Hello Kitty sleep shirt.

Logan's claws hurt sinking into him even when he had the suit on, but he'd never experienced their wrath without it - and it was much worse.

"L-Logan," he called out, coughing up blood and chunks of flesh onto the already destroyed bed sheets and yeah- he'd probably need to change them now, considering he was bleeding out most of his body's blood all over them. He just hoped the mattress wasn't completely fucked, because his paycheck probably couldn't stretch to new sheets and a new mattress.

Logan let out a sound halfway between a moan and a sob, and there was a wetness beneath his lashes. Ok no - this needed to end now.

"It's W-Wade, Logan. M' right here, you're s-safe, 'ts ok," it was getting really difficult to talk, especially loud enough for Logan to hear him above his own sounds of distress.

He ran his fingers up and down Logan's arm, scratching lightly. His own body was feeling dangerously weak, and he knew he was about to die from blood loss probably - which usually took a good few hours to regenerate from.

He couldn't have that. He couldn't leave Logan like this, so he needed to pull him out of it soon.

He hesitated for only a second before inching himself closer, gasping and writhing at the agony it caused, and let his head drop against Logan's, moving his hand upwards with a soft grunt to stroke a hand through his hair.

"T's me. L-Logan 'ts ok, y-you're ok," he has to turn his face away to cough wetly into his shoulder, wincing at the metallic taste of blood.

"Lo, please," he pleads quietly, and he isn't sure what does it, but Logan wakes up.

His eyes shoot open, and dart around rapidly, chest heaving, and then they zero in on him. On the bloody mess of their bed, and their current position, and Wade really is getting tired now. His eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, and he let's the hand he was running through Logan's hair go limp, allowing it to fall against the older mans pillow.

"G'd job, big guy. K-knew you'd come back f'r me," he slurs out, his head lolling back despite wanting nothing more than to keep it pressed against Logan's. He can feel himself slipping.

"Wade. WADE! Fuck, Wade!"

The claws retract out of his body suddenly, and it feels like a punch to his insides. Logan screams, or maybe he does, he's not sure anymore.

He wants to comfort Logan and tell him it's fine, that he'll be healed up and ok in an hour or two, that it wasn't his fault, because he already knows the man will blame himself for this which is beyond fucking stupid.

He can't do or say any of it. His insides are trying to heal, but they'd been so torn up it wasn't all that fast.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, Wade stay awake, alright? Keep your eyes open, you asshole. I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry," Logan's panicking, he can hear it in his voice. He's really panicking now, and Wade can't figure out how to communicate that he will be perfectly ok soon enough.

"Baby, please. Please, I'm so sorry."

Did Logan just call him baby? He must really not look great.

He manages to lift that shaking hand off of the pillow behind Logan's head, and lifts it enough to cup the back of his neck, stroking his thumb over the shorter hairs there. Logan wraps his arms around him like he's about to dissapear, pulling him in flush against his warmth, all but cradling him, and he can't tell if the wetness on his shoulder is Logan crying or blood.

Blood seems more likely. The beds covered in it. Wade's covered in it too, and he feels like he should be trying to push Logan away so he doesn't get covered in it as well.

It's the last thing he remembers before the world goes black.

When he wakes up, it's daylight - which isn't all that surprising. Regenerating your bodies blood cells was a right bitch, and he'd never had to do it on this big of a scale before.

He blinks his eyes against the harsh lights, and goes to sit up only to be stopped by a soft, perfectly manicured hand against his chest.

"Easy, Wade. Just stay lying down for a minute until your brain catches up," Vanessa advises gently and - Vanessa? What was she doing here?

"Where's Logan?" He blurts, not quite caring if it's rude. He needs to see him. He'd been trapped in that shitty nightmare and then had nobody to talk it over with, since Wade's stupid body decided to give up on him.

He hates the brief look that flashes over Vanessa's face. The twist of anger and disgust, and he doesn't fucking get it which only makes him hate it more.

"What?" He demands, and as much as he was healed up, his lungs still burnt a little when he sat up, brushing her hand away.

"You don't need to worry about that now, Wade. He can't hurt you again. He's gone," she hissed, and Wade had heard her be less seething with grabby customers at the bar.

Her words made his stomach plummet, and his newly generated blood flow went cold.

"What the fuck do you mean 'gone'?! Where the fuck is he?"

The TVA had always offered to send his Logan back to his own timeline. Everytime Logan had dismissed it, said this was his universe now. The idea... fuck, the idea of him back in his own? Where everyone calls him the 'worst wolverine' and he spends all his time alone, shunned by everybody for reasons he's more than made up for... no. No, fuck, please say he didn't go back there.

"Wade, calm down-"

"No! I don't want to fucking calm down! Where's Logan?!"

It's loud and harsh, and he startles himself a little bit because he's never, in all the years he's known her, yelled at Vanessa - but he feels so off balance. Like everything around him is just... wrong, somehow, and he needs to understand why in order to fix it. He needs Logan.

Vanessa removes her hand, mouth opening then snapping shut. Her expression goes from shocked to tight and hard in an instant, but she only holds it for a moment before deflating entirely, shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't know. He called me upset and said he'd hurt you really badly and that you needed help. By the time I got here you were starting to heal but... it was really slow. We patched you up and Logan told me what had happened and... and I lost it, I told him to go and to stay far away from you. No ones heard from him the last couple of days since he walked out," Vanessa looked somewhat guilty, but it didn't quell Wade's anger.

"Hang on - a couple of days? How long was I out?"

"Three days. Colossus said you'd pretty much lost all the blood in your body, and ended up putting you on a drip to help your body regenerate it faster," Vanessa explained, and Wade swallowed.

Three days? He must've been worse off than he'd thought. He knew he couldn't die from it, but to be on the brink for so long sounded... unpleasant. He did feel a pang of sympathy for her then, dealing with that. It's not like his immortality came with a guide book, and so for him to appear so very close to actual death for so long it was likely more than unsettling.

"Look, it wasn't Logan's fault-"

"Wade-" Vanessa tried, her voice exasperated as if she'd been anticipating this.

"I'm serious. Logan didn't mean to do it, he didn't even realise," Wade argued.

"If he knows he could be dangerous he shouldn't of slept in the same bed as you! He- he shouldn't of been doing that anyway!"

The room went painfully quiet after her explosion. There was far too much to unpack in the meaning of her words, and frankly Wade didn't have the time or the energy.

"I'm going to find Logan."

She didn't argue with him when he got up this time.

It didn't actually take long for Wade to track him down. With his past history of profession, tracking people down was sort of a specialty at this point.

Didn't hurt that Logan was hard to fucking miss, and even harder to forget. Wade would know a thing or two about that, maybe.

He was just relieved he hadn't high tailed it back to his own universe, even as he pushed his way into the seedy bar and well - if even Wade would describe it as fucking seedy...

He spotted Logan immediately. Hunched over the bar on a tatted bar stool, adorning his old leather jacket ('why don't you get a new one? This ones like, peeling.' Logan had shrugged, adjusting the fabric on his shoulders, 'I like this one.')

The bartender was refusing to serve him another shot, and Logan was begging in that sort of gruff but all together desperate kind of way, promising to leave after this one.

It was so fucking nostalgic of their first meeting that Wade almost wanted to go over there and pull his gun, just for nostalgia sake.

It was equal parts depressing too, because Logan had come so far. In terms of coping with his shit and the alcohol, and yet here he was, back to a literal caricature of square one, ground zero, and it only made Wade that much more pissed at the whole situation.

"You know I won't kiss when you have whiskey breath, peanut," Wade made his presence known in the only way he knew how. Obnoxiously.

He slid up to the bar next to Logan, taking the unoccupied seat to his left.

Logan stared at him for a long moment, eyes scanning over the entirety of him frantically as if he was checking for non-existent damage.

"I'm fine, big guy. Sheesh, you think you're the first to try bleeding me dry? I still don't shut the fuck up for long," he joked, because joking just seemed easier. Nevermind the fact that it was mostly a lie - no one had ever tried that method of murder yet, or at least not purposefully.

Logan was still looking at him with that pained look. It was one he recognised - much akin to the expression he wore the night when he had told him all about the xmen of his old universe and what had happened to them.

"I'm honestly okay. Look," he reached out to grab Logans hand, bringing it to his clothed side to prove he was still all in one piece, but when Logan realised he yanked his hand back so harshly he stumbled off his stool, his face utterly horrified.

"Logan-"

"Don't, Wade! I can't touch you. I can't," Logan stressed, eyes wide.

"It was an accident! Fuck, you were asleep! You didn't mean to do it, and I've healed up completely!" Wade emphasised, but Logan ducked his head to avoid his gaze, swallowing thickly.

"I... I can't fucking risk it, alright? Not again. Jesus, we didn't think..." Logan tapered off, his eyes growing distant, "we didn't think you'd come back from it, bub. I really thought I'd... I'd killed you for good."

Logan wouldn't look at him, but even the emotion in his voice had Wade's newly repaired heart shattering all over again.

"But you didn't. Give me your hand."

Logan frowned, "Wade I'm fucking serious, I can't touch you again. I shouldn't even be anywhere near you after what I did," he argued, and Wade scoffed.

He unholstered one of his guns, relieved that the place was rough enough that doing so barely earned him a sideways glance.

Logan watched him wearily.

Wade jabbed the barrel of the gun against his own torso, turned upwards for a direct shot to his heart.

"What the fuck are you doing?! You're barely healed!" Logan blanched, trying to grab for the gun. Wade clicked the safety off in response, stopping the older man dead in his tracks.

"Let me have your hand and I'll holster it. If you don't, well... I'll just need to shoot to prove I'm not some delicate damsel. I know I have the looks to qualify as a Disney princess, but they won't take me, so you're stuck with me. And that's gonna be a lot fucking harder if you're going to go the running away and avoiding touching me like I'm some sort of plague route, sweetness."

There was a few beats of silence, and Wade really hoped Logan would just take the first option. Lodging a bullet into himself right now sounded fucking painful.

"You're fucking crazy, bub," Logan muttered in disbelief, but reluctantly held his hand out in offering.

Wade put the gun away, grabbing the large, calloused hand in his own scarred one. Logan's was scarred a little too, the only place on his body to show any sort of lasting damage. Little white scratches across each knuckle where the metal retracted out of his body repetitively.

('Does it hurt?' Wade asked one day when they were sat watching mindless TV, staring down at the marks between Logan's fingers. Logan doesn't ask for clarification, or even glance away from the screen, 'everytime.' Something in the way he says it upsets Wade so deeply his chest literally aches for a moment.)

He takes Logan's hand and snakes it beneath his shirt, (he can't even bring himself to make a stupid innuendo about it) guiding it over his healed skin.

Logan flinches, eyes shutting momentarily, breathing slightly shaky, and Wade can feel the tension in his arm, wanting to pull away but not. Trusting Wade, even if he doesn't trust himself.

"It's okay, see? There's nothing there anymore. Feel."

He let's go of Logan's wrist, and the older man gently, so annoyingly gently, runs his finger tips over his sides that were once leaking out oceans of blood between them.

"It doesn't change the facts that I did it. I did it again, and I lucked out again, but if you didn't have your powers..." Logan went to pull his hand away again, but Wade held it firmly in place, searching his face.

"But I do, so we're not worrying about anything else."

He wants to ask what Logan meant by 'again'. He wanted to know everything about the man in front of him, but Wade knew the secrets would come with time. Or not at all, and Wade could make peace with that too if it's what Logan needed.

"I'm really glad you're ok, bub," Logan murmurs after a beat of silence, his gruff tone softer.

Wade smiled, "I'd be better if you'd come home and continue our marathon of keeping up with the kardashians."

Logan side eyed the bar, before turning his entire focus back to Wade, nodding wordlessly.

They left the bar together, and while Wade continued his usual tirade of adhd fuelled conversation, Logan just watched him with a secret smile he'd later swear wasn't there.

And if he occasionally brushed an arm against the mercs side just to make sure he was truly still in one piece, Wade didn't say anything.

543 notes · View notes

hier--soir · 1 year

Text

fake it

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it? warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus. word count: 5.7k masterlist a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO

“We’ll stop here for the night.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.

“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.

It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.

“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.

When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib.

“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.

Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.

“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Getting’ drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.

It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.

“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.

“Just c’mere.”

You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.

Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”

Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.

“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.

He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.

“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”

Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..

His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.

You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.

“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.

Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”

“What abou-“

“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.

“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.

His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.

One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”

You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.

“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”

He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”

When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”

“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”

You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.

“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.

He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.

You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.

The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.

But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.

Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.

Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.

“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.

“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.

You faked it.

Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.

Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.

After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.

Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.

Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.

“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”

Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.

Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.

“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.

“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”

Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.

“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.

“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.

“Then why are w-“

“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.

The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.

After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.

“Ellie?” he said, tone even.

No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.

Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.

As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.

“Don’t,” he practically growled.

“I’m s-“

“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”

Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.

“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”

“What?”

“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”

“Joel—"

“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”

You watched him with bated breath.

“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”

“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“

“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.

Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.

“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.

It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.

“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.

“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”

“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.

Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.

“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.

“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.

“I—”

“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.

It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.

“You tired?”

You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.

“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.

“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.

You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.

“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.

One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.

“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.

“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”

“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”

He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”

Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.

“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”

Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”

His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.

“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.

Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.

He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.

And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.

Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”

Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.

It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.

His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.

You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—

“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.

In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.

“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”

And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.

Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.

“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #my writing #fake it

5K notes · View notes

pumpkiiin-spice · 1 month

Note

ateez’s reaction to the first time you staying over at their place and wearing their clothes. i can already imagine mingi not gonna look away lol

𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘃𝗲�� 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗭

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗴𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄! 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗴𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲), 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗦𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝘄𝗮 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗪𝗼𝗼𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗸𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘃𝘀 (𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗹), 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀, 𝗽𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 (𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆, 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗝𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼 "𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿" 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲), 𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗷𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗸𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 (𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘁𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗮𝘆), 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗦𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝘄𝗮'𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲/𝘀𝗲𝘅 (𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝘀), 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗼𝗻 𝗬𝗲𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗝𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼'𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁) 𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲! 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 ��𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀, 𝗜'𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸! 𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗠𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜'𝗺 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘄! 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗼𝗻 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝗜 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗺𝗲 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥. 𝗔𝗻𝗼𝗻, 𝗜'𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗢 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀. 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿. 𝗟𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗲... 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆! 𝗛𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀! 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗵𝘆𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲! 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂~!

Seonghwa

Seonghwa had invited you over to his dorm to have a Lego date. You, unable to say no to those pretty, big brown eyes, had accepted. He had bought a new set from the botanical collection (which was very pretty, you had to admit) and you both spent a while separating the color pieces and started building. When you both had finished, it was already half past nine at night. Normally, Seonghwa would take you back to your place, but you knew he had an interview tomorrow morning and his manager wouldn’t be happy with you if you were both out at this hour.

“Do you feel comfortable sleeping with me?” Seonghwa suggested.

You both had been dating for three months now, but you had never stayed at the dorms or vice-versa. You wanted to say no, that it was no bother, but you had no other choice. You didn’t bring your car because Seonghwa had picked you up. Defeated, you let out a sigh and agreed to stay. Seonghwa seemed more than happy that you were staying over, which made you wonder if he had been waiting for this opportunity since you started dating. There was one small problem though…

“Hwa, I don’t have any clothes to change.”

He stopped suddenly before leaving his room to find a clean towel for you. He had missed that detail.

“I think Hongjoong is about to leave his studio. I can ask him to buy you some clothes on the way to the dorms.”

He noticed your worried expression, knowing that you feared bothering more than you felt you were. As a last option, he went to his drawer and took out a large, comfortable shirt accompanied by some boxers.

“I’m sorry… This is all I have to offer now. I’ll buy you some clothes next time we’re out and keep them here in case this happens again.”

You looked at him tenderly and approached him to give him a warm hug.

“Thank you, Hwa.” you whispered softly in his ear and grabbed the clothes to go change.

While you changed your clothes, Seonghwa put away the remaining pieces you didn't need and set up the bed for the both of you. Seonghwa loved cuddling with you, especially if he was playing Animal Crossing, but sleeping with you was something you hadn't done yet. Although it wasn’t anything sexual, it was intimate, and Hwa seemed to like that more than he should.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow your clothes and letting me stay with you.”

Your voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up at you, quickly feeling his cheeks heat up. "It's just a t-shirt and underwear," he thought, wanting to convince himself that his reaction was exaggerated, but it was his shirt and underwear. And you looked so comfortable with them that he was sure he wanted to give them to you.

"Is something the matter?" you asked once you noticed your boyfriend didn't respond to what you said earlier.

"No, no. I was just looking." he replied, his eyes stuck to your thighs. He felt dirty, staring at you like he wanted to devour you just by simply wearing his clothes, but you looked so... pretty.

"If you're only going to stare, I might as well make the first move." you chuckled, grabbing Seonghwa by surprise as you got closer and kissed him. "You know you can touch, right?"

And oh boy was Seonghwa going to touch. In fact, he was going to enjoy this sleepover... And suggest that you stay more often. Your clothes aren't needed when you have his. You won't stay too much with them on anyway.

𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗷𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗴

Something you loved about Hongjoong was his passion for fashion. Therefore, you were always willing to help him in any way you could, including being his model. Tonight was no different.

You had suggested that you both should design a piece of clothing and the other should wear it when you go out again. Hongjoong, without hesitation, agreed to the proposal.

The plan was to stay with him tonight and spend as much time together as possible before he left for Morocco for the Mawazine Festival in two days. Altering clothes wasn't something you normally did, but seeing him so happy and focused was the only thing you needed to make you think about doing this with him.

"I think it's done." Hongjoong declared, lifting the jacket to look at his artwork. "Why don't you go and try it on and see if you like it?"

Hongjoong had sewn some designs onto the sleeves of the jacket, and a beautiful rose was painted on the back. He had to go wash it so that the excess paint wouldn't remain, and it was a little wet, but with the air conditioner, it had dried enough so that now you could try it on. You smiled proudly, always surprised by his creations.

"That's beautiful, Joong." you sighed in surprise and put your brush aside to go to him. "I'm almost finishing yours, so I'll try this on quickly and then finish decorating your cap."

While you were trying on the jacket, Hongjoong went to see how your cap was looking. He was surprised to see fake diamonds glued to the cap's crown, placed in a way that looked like a spider web. He was impressed by how good it looked.

"My love, this is looking amazing." Hongjoong turned to look at you, just as you looked in the mirror to admire the jacket.

"Oh my God, Joong. This is so cool! You're so talented!" you gasped, staring at yourself in awe.

Hongjoong was happy that you liked it, and he admitted that it looked amazing on you, but there was something that… was different. Not only was it the joy it brought you to try something he made, but it was also that you were wearing it. You were wearing something he made. It was like you were saying "I'm Kim Hongjoong's partner" and he loved that.

"Yeah, you should wear it more often. It looks good on you." Hongjoong suggested, eyeing you with a hint of possessiveness.

And just like that, Hongjoong discovered something that turned him on. Seeing you with his clothes.

Yunho

Today was the perfect day to stay at home and do nothing. It was raining and cold, so you and Yunho decided to stay inside and spend the day playing video games or watching movies.

While you were in bed playing on your Nintendo Switch, Yunho was sitting in his gaming chair playing Valorant. Although you were both focused on your games, from time to time you would exchange glances or smile at each other to see if the other was okay.

After a while, you started to get cold. The air conditioner and the cold of the rain were getting to you and you had left your hoodie in your apartment, so you decided to grab one of Yunho's hoodies and put it on. It was so comfortable and warm that you felt like you could melt into it. And not only that, but you could smell his intoxicating perfume. This dangerous combination almost put you to sleep, but you wanted to continue playing your game and keep an eye on Yunho in case he needed anything.

When one of his games ended, Yunho turned to look at you and noticed you were almost asleep. He laughed a little when he saw you in that state until he noticed that you had his hoodie on. He was surprised since he hadn't noticed you had grabbed it, but it didn't bother him. He thought it was…cute. You looked comfortable and safe with it on and Yunho couldn't help but think that something as simple as a hoodie of his could make you feel like that.

"Darling?" he called you, grabbing your attention.

"Hm?" you hummed, feeling tired.

"Want to cuddle and sleep for a bit before ordering food?" he suggested with a soft smile.

When he saw that you nodded, Yunho said goodbye to his teammates and turned off his console to go lie down next to you.

"Here, baby." Yunho turned off your Nintendo Switch and put it to charge. "Come here."

You got closer to Yunho and cuddled close to his chest, instantly falling asleep by his touch.

Yeosang

Of all the things that could have happened to you, your apartment needing to be fumigated because of cockroaches was one of the worst things. You had nowhere to go while they dealt with that plague. Luckily for you, your best friend Yeosang had offered to let you sleep over while that was being dealt with. His offer surprised you because you knew the risks you could take if a fan saw you in the boys' dormitories, but Yeosang insisted on helping you. Always so cooperative and willing. Maybe that was why you had a little crush on him.

When you arrived at the dorms, the boys greeted you kindly and welcomed you. You weren't as close to them as you were with Yeosang, but you got along well with them and vice versa. Especially because you all had something in common: loving Kang Yeosang to the core.

They had agreed that you would sleep in Yeosang's room. They took out a mattress from God knows where and took it to his room. You couldn't be more grateful for their hospitality.

"And if you need anything, just let any of us know." Hongjoong finished saying and turned to look at his members. "Well, now let's leave Yeosang and Y/N alone so they can settle in better."

"Thank you so much, Hongjoong." you bowed, grateful.

Once the boys left, you were left alone in the room with Yeosang. He gave you a smile that you swore would have melted you if you didn't have self-control.

"Thank you once again for receiving me, Yeo. I know it was too sudden."

"It's ok. I just wanted to help you out."

Dammit. The blush forming on your cheeks needs to calm down before he notices.

Since the boys had to get up early tomorrow to rehearse, they agreed that they would go to sleep early. Although you weren't much for going to bed early, you had to admit that all the chaos today had you exhausted, so you didn't reject the idea. But first, you were having dinner.

Wooyoung had cooked before you arrived. He wanted you to have a plate of hot food; something relaxing after all that chaos. When they sat down to eat, everyone was chatting animatedly, and they included you in the conversation so you didn't feel left out.

"So, tell us, do you have a special someone in your life?" Wooyoung asked bluntly, causing you to blush.

"No, no one yet." you answered, your food now seeming very interesting.

"No crush on a certain boy?"

You choked on your drink, causing you to spill some on your shirt. The question caught you off guard, especially when that certain boy was right next to you.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." Wooyoung apologized and got up to get you a piece of paper towel.

"It's alright." you answered with a cough. "I was just careless."

You looked down at yourself, seeing how the liquid was spilled over your shirt. The worst part was that Yeosang was looking at you. You wished the Earth would swallow you.

Yeosang got up from the table and went to his room, coming out a few seconds later with a clean shirt of his.

"Here." he offered.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to." you gave him a soft smile and looked at his shirt. "I'll go change."

You could swear you were burning hot by how intense you felt you were blushing. He was your best friend and crush. He was just doing what any friend would do. Then WHY were you feeling butterflies in your stomach?

Meanwhile, Wooyoung teased poor Yeosang about "how much of a gentleman and prince-like he was." Yeosang didn't know if he wanted to slap him or feel appreciated.

"I just wanted to help." he said, trying to end the conversation.

"But you do like her, Sangie! You're just a biiiit shy." Wooyoung continued to tease.

"Lower your voice, Woo. We don't want to embarrass him." Seonghwa scolded and gave Yeosang a small smile. "Just don't let them go, ok?"

Yeosang thought they were just being annoying. He didn't like his super sweet, beautiful, and wonderful best friend. He did not have a-

"There you are! Now we can continue eating."

Yeosang turned around when he heard Yunho and saw you. He swore his heart skipped a beat when he saw you wearing his shirt. But why? It was just a shirt. His shirt, yes, but just a shirt. It's not like he would imagine you embracing him and enjoying how he knew you liked wearing it- oh fuck, he had a crush on you.

He kept thinking about and staring at you until it was time to go to bed. You were on the mattress sound asleep already. Honestly, he thought it was cute how you seemed so calm and sleepy. He denied his feelings for a while. Was he afraid about the difficulties of your relationship? Was he afraid you didn't like him back? There were quite some possibilities, yes, but Seonghwa was right. He couldn't let you go. But not now. Now wasn't the proper time to confess his feelings.

"You're so beautiful." Yeosang whispered, hoping you hadn't heard him, and wishing you a good night.

San

You swore you were the luckiest person in the world right now. I mean, your boyfriend is THE Choi San. He's sweet, and a total gentleman. You knew you were lucky when he asked you out on your first date.

Now, you guys have been six months together. In all this time, he was patient and took things slow with you so you didn't feel pressured to do anything you didn't want to. But, you were sure you wanted to go to the next level last night. You were sure of what you wanted to do.

Yesterday was your anniversary, and San thought that it would be cute to have dinner and stargaze. You were out until around 10:30, so it was best you stayed at his dorm with him. What happened after you arrived felt like a dream. You and San made love, or so he called it. It felt warm and fuzzy just thinking about it. It did feel like love. It was so sweet and pleasuring, but so full of love. You giggled just by remembering every touch and kiss. So, you decided to make breakfast for him to surprise him after he gifted you such an amazing night.

You got up from San's bed, where he was lying next to you. He had put your clothes to wash last night, which meant you only had your underwear to wear. You looked through his closet to see if you could find anything you could wear until you came across a white button-down dress shirt. You turned to look at him, still asleep, and grabbed it.

After a while, San woke up from the smell of chicken porridge. At first, he thought it was one of the guys making breakfast, but then he saw you weren't in bed and imagined what you were doing. He smiled, thinking you were the sweetest. When he went to the kitchen, though, he didn't expect he'd see you wearing one of his shirts.

It took his breath away. It sounded exaggerated, but it felt... intimate. Yes, you were intimate last night, but this was another type of intimate.

San approached you cautiously and hugged you from behind, causing you to jump. Noticing that it was him, you let out a small laugh and held his hands.

"Good morning, Sannie. Did I wake you up?" you asked while turning your head to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Mhm." he answered, his head buried in your neck. "But I don't mind."

You smiled to yourself. You could get used to this. To this love and intimacy.

Mingi

Being Song Mingi's partner was anything but boring. When fans say he's a little boy trapped in a man's body, they're right. He can go from laying down and cuddling with you to randomly picking you up and taking you wherever he wants in a matter of seconds. And today, it was the latter.

Mingi wanted to go to a manga café with you. He was looking for the newly released volume of Chainsaw Man and wanted you to help him. Although you tried to reason with him that it was too late to leave, in the end, you gave in and accompanied him. However, you did not expect a deluge to fall when you left the café.

"Hurry, hurry!" Mingi exclaimed while laughing and grabbed your hand. "We're about to get to the car!"

You got into their car, soaking wet. Mingi offered you to go to the dormitories with him and stay as an apology for the rain that hit you both. You had never stayed overnight, but it wasn't safe to drive home in this rain, so you agreed.

When you arrived, you and Mingi were shivering from the cold. Seonghwa scolded you and forced you both to take a hot bath so that you wouldn't get a cold. Mingi, somewhat embarrassed, brought you to his room and looked for clothes for you.

"I'm sorry that I made hyung scold you." Mingi whispered sorrowfully.

Hearing that you laughed, Mingi looked at you in surprise and offended.

"Are you laughing at me?" Mingi asked, offended.

"No, no, no." you quickly clarified, your laughter slowly ceasing "I'm just not upset at all."

Mingi looked at you in confusion and you approached him to hug his neck.

"I had a lot of fun going out with you and running under the rain with you." you admitted, a smile adorning your face. "It felt romantic."

Even after you went to take a bath, Mingi was still standing in the same place, his cheeks red, and he had a big smile. He didn't care if someone came in and saw him. What mattered to him was that you were happy to spend time with him.

He sat on the floor (he didn't want to wet his bed) and started looking for movies so you could both watch. If you were going to stay overnight, he wanted you to have a good time with him. Just like you said you'd spent it with him when you went out a few hours ago.

"It's your turn, Mingki." you called out.

"I'll be there in a minute." Mingi answered and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye, but turned completely when he saw you in his gray long-sleeved shirt.

He wasn't sure if it was because of how your legs looked, if you smelled like him now, or because his shirt smelled like you. He wasn't sure which was better, but he did love how that damn basic shirt fitted you. My God, he wanted to give it to you!

"Mingi, I told you to go take a bath," you repeated, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "As Seonghwa said, you can catch a cold."

"Screw that." Mingi said and came over to carry you. "Let's take a bath together."

"What?! Mingi, I already took a bath!" you screamed and started kicking your feet, but Mingi ignored you. "Song Mingi, put me down!

"Sorry, pretty. Can't hear you."

Wooyoung

Baking with Wooyoung wasn't like you imagined. Based on his personality, you thought Wooyoung would be chaotic and make a mess in the kitchen while helping you bake, but you ended up surprised. It turned out that Wooyoung was quite clean when it came to cooking. Yes, he joked with you, but he kept everything organized. Your expectations went up because of that.

It was your third date together and you loved spending time with him. Not only was he funny and caring, but he was also attentive and protective. He would tease you and give you a kiss or two on the cheek and you swore you felt butterflies in your stomach. I mean, how could you not? He was all you were looking for.

Thinking about Wooyoung, you got distracted and threw baking powder on yourself. You noticed when you heard Wooyoung's outrageous laugh.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry," you apologized, embarrassed that you weren't paying attention.

"I didn't know you were part of the dessert," Wooyoung said, laughing in embarrassment at how weird that sounded.

You laughed, both because you found it funny and it made you blush.

"You're so cheesy, Woo." you said with a laugh as you brushed the baking dust off your clothes. "Agh, I need to change my clothes."

"But you don't have clothes," Wooyoung noted. "Would you mind wearing one of my jackets?"

"No, it doesn't bother me," you replied. "Thank you, Woo."

After explaining where the shirts were, Wooyoung continued baking and you went to change. He had told you that you could put it in the washing machine and then he would explain to Seonghwa why there was an unrecognized shirt with the rest of their clothes. The whole situation had embarrassed you, but Wooyoung didn't seem to react negatively to the little incident. On the contrary, he took it with humor. You found yourself smiling like a fool again thinking about him. This had to be a sign that he was the one, you thought.

You returned to Wooyoung, who was pouring the cupcake mix into de baking cups.

"Allow me to help." you offered, standing behind him and helping him.

"Don't worry, I can handle it. You go and relax."

Wooyoung turned to force you to sit down but stayed quiet as he looked you up and down. Contrary to how he imagined the shirt would fit you, his black tank top fit you perfectly. Especially on your chest. God, he couldn't stop looking at your chest no matter how much he wanted to. He's an atheist, but he thanked God and other heavenly entities that your shirt got dirty and you used one of his.

"Woo, my eyes are up here." you teased, snapping your fingers in front of his face.

"Wh-? Oh, yeah, yeah. I know." he cleared his throat and turned around to continue pouring the cupcake mix into the baking cups.

You laughed at his reaction because you knew that if you wore that shirt, Wooyoung wasn't going to take his eyes off you. So what our dear Wooyoung didn't know is that your move had turned out perfectly.

Jongho

When the boys warned you about how Jongho acted once he was fully comfortable with someone, you didn't believe any of their warnings were serious. Jongho seemed like a serious boy, but kind and full of love. You swore that Jongho couldn't do any wrong. Now, you regretted a thousand times for not having listened to them sooner.

You and Jongho became friends almost a year ago. Although you thought he was handsome, you didn't want to ruin the friendship between the two of you. You thought things were better this way. Therefore, you and him had become good friends. That meant, however, that Jongho was now bothering you whenever and however he wanted, like now.

You had met a guy at university recently. You thought he was cute and funny, so you asked him for his number and tried to give him a chance. You had been texting each other during the day until Jongho invited you to the dorms because he wanted you to help him with some Legos he had bought thanks to Seonghwa. You, without hesitation, said yes and you arrived in the blink of an eye. The problem was when Jongho realized that you were receiving several messages and how you were smiling at your cell phone when you answered them.

"Who are you texting?" he asked you once, trying to see who you were texting.

"No one important." you brushed him off, putting your phone down and continuing to help him.

However, Jongho wasn't an idiot. He knew you were talking to someone and that someone was making you smile. Out of curiosity, he grabbed your cell phone and tried to unlock it.

"Choi Jongho!" you yelled at him, taking the phone out of his hands. "Next time, touch your nose and have fun with it!"

Still doubtful, he tried several times to see your cell phone, but he failed. It wasn't until Jongho gave you something to drink and you spilled the liquid on your pants (he totally didn't give you a broken glass on purpose) that you finally left him alone with the cell phone and went to change your pants for one of his.

You returned after a while wearing one of Jongho's shorts, who seemed to be staring at you a little more than usual.

"Do they look that bad on me?" you asked him, turning around to look over your shoulder at yourself.

"No. They look good." Jongho reassured, his eyes lingering on your legs a little longer than usual.

You sat back down and checked your phone to see if the guy had texted you. Once you had finished answering him, you went back to helping Jongho assemble Legos. He, however, didn't take his eyes off you.

Your phone vibrated again, so you grabbed it to answer the message. Jongho, deciding that enough was enough, threw himself on top of you and took your cell phone from you.

"Jongho, what the fuck?!" you screamed, surprised and a bit pissed off by his reaction. "What's up with you today?!"

"What's up with me?" he asked, snorting, offended by the question. "You're the one who's too busy on your phone, even though you're supposed to be spending time with me."

You raised an eyebrow at him. The idea of Jongho being jealous seemed absurd to you, but that's what it seemed like.

"Are you jealous, bear?" you asked, laughing softly.

"I am! Why are you paying attention to another guy when I'm here in front of you?" he confessed, seeming a bit frustrated that you didn't get it.

"Come on, Jongho. There's no need for that. Besides, it's not like you have a crush on me or something."

"Said who?"

What?

"What?" you asked in shock.

"What?" he laughed nervously.

"What?" a voice said.

When you two turned to look at the owner of the voice, you saw Hongjoong on the door frame of Jongho's bedroom, staring at Jongho on top of you and holding your hands above your head.

"Wait, Hongjoong, it's NOT what it looks like." you panicked.

"Hyung, I swear. I'm not-"

"I don't want to know." he simply said, leaving the room with a tired sigh.

You two looked at each other and quickly straightened up, each on opposite sides.

"So, um..." Jongho started, unsure. "Want to stay over tonight?"

Your phone vibrated again, but this time you didn't respond. Instead, you gave Jongho a shy smile and nodded.

"Yeah... I'd like that."

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porcelainpot · 2 months

Text

It takes a long time before you leave your den again, the small cave proving to be a cage, as Soap so graciously called it, for not only them but you too, even if sometimes it can be considered your little heaven too.

It's not that you don't want to leave, it has been at least three hours since Soap had gotten himself too close for comfort, riling you up enough that you almost forgot to keep distance for the both of you.

No, it's not that.

It's that you're fucking terrified and you don't want to admit it.

You have watched and analyzed them all enough to understand that he has a weird sense of flirting and is more feral than what he looks, if his stunt a few hours ago wasn't proof of that, then the way he would usually do the same with other mer, prey mer, or fishes is proof of how he gets off on doing it.

You look at yourself, your fins, your tail, beautiful oranges and whites decorating the venomous spines that serve as hunting and protective tools. Or that should be their purpose, if it wasn't for the lack of poison they had.

They do work for hunting and to protect yourself, but the thing is that they're not lethal at all, if only, the supposed venom is more of anesthetic.

Instead of causing pain, it makes the prey, and predators, lose feeling on their limbs, starting from where the location of the sting and then it spreads, just like the venom should work. You know this, which is why you never correct them about how poisonous you are, because you aren't. You just work as a type of numbing tool.

Everyone would have a field, especially Soap, so it's not like you'll ever tell them and keep your distance away. In the end it's more for your protection than theirs.

Your belly rumbles and you scrunch up your nose, you're hungry, not having really thought of eating since hours ago because you were enjoying Ghost's company and also the fact you were not hungry at all.

But now here you are, and thanks to someone called fucking Soap, you can't find it in yourself to go out and hunt, because what if he's out there? What if he tries to do the same again?

Surely not, Ghost already made him go back to their reef to go bother Gaz or Price, maybe even take a nap but that doesn't deter you.

Your fins and spikes have been flared all these hours and it's starting to hurt a bit with how tense your muscles are. It makes you want to tear out something, to sink your teeth on his shoulder, to grab his face and stab your spikes against his skin until they pierce it to watch him go limp and sink on the sand, unable to move.

You shake your head, clawing at the sand to get rid of those thoughts. He would probably like it, might even fantasize about it if you think enough, he looks like he would. More so at the glee to show he was right, that you're not dangerous as he thought and that's exactly why.

A shiver goes down your spine at his words, at the fact he thought he could break your spines, it has panic raising up your throat before you shake your head and calm down. No, no he wouldn't.

At least you try to think that. (Oh, but he would, how else would you end up with them? That way you wouldn't be able to protect yourself, but they could keep you safe and to themselves.)

Your nerves are too fried to calm down, today you probably won't go out hunting until you've calmed down, the thought of finding Ghost at night causes an uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

He stopped Soap, that's fine, good even, at least one of the two has a sense of safety even if he doesn't regard you as a predator like him (although the cause of it barely counts as a threat). Not like you need his approval, you're not friends, far from it, just acquaintances at best. That only makes your decision of hunting at night more difficult.

You sigh, curling up onto yourself. You can skip a day or two of not hunting, it's fine. You can sleep most of it away.

You wake up again by the sound of something swimming around your small reef, you barely catch it, with sleep clouding your mind still after sleeping all day. You swim closer to the small gaps of your small den, just to take a peek.

It's Ghost, because of course he is. The mer likes to hunt at night, but it's weird that he's outside your small cave at this hour, by now he should be far away looking for food.

"Wha?"

"Come outside." He commands, it makes you frown, why would you do that? It's late and you're tired.

"No. I'm sleeping." You mumble, unconsciously leaning a bit closer to look at him better through the small space.

Your spikes are all relaxed, finally, muscles sore from your body being alert for so long. You're in no position to speak properly, sleep heavy and worsened by the lack of food, trying to make it up for the lack of energy.

Ghost hums, something low and quiet it almost makes you think it was your mind playing tricks on you if you weren't looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Come on. I got you something, pretty fish." His voice is low and thick, honeyed, as sweet as someone with a gruff and heavy voice could do, to make you come out.

The pet name has you a bit hooked, and the sight of the actual fish on his hand after he presents it has you fully out of your home. You swim towards him, towards the food actually, and reach for it.

You're too tired to even eat it, but you still inspect it, you have to check it's worth and duplicate it tomorrow so you two are even, even in your half-asleep state your mind knows what to do for someone who even gifts you something. You don't like owning anything to anyone.

Ghost looks at you closely, as close as he dares to be given your current situation.

You're half asleep, any word or action he does could either make you react badly and stab him with those beautiful spines you got or have you still be pliant in his presence.

You're an interesting little thing, gorgeous in looks and deadly in touch, he can understand Soap's infatuation with you but he knows how to handle mers like you, he might look disinterested but he already knows how to handle you well.

Ghost takes his opportunity to swim closer, amused when he noticed you curl up around the fish, not to eat it but because you fell asleep holding the food he got you, curled up around it.

"Pretty thing, nothing more than brash words huh?" He murmurs as he very softly cups his hand under you, eyes sharp and focused on your fins and tail, looking for a telltale of flaring spines or the flick of your ear fins.

You're quite small and pliant, colorful even in the darkness of their reef. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. You're lucky it's me and not Soap, the twat would be pricked as soon as he got you at hands reach."

Of course, you barely make a sound at that, scrunching up your nose before relaxing again and he takes the opportunity to run his thumb on your back, brushing his fingers through your fins and skin, careful to not touch your spines.

Ghost wonders if you're even aware of what he's doing, of how powerless you are right now, but he doesn't entertain the thought much when you star to stir again.

He lets you go as soon as your tail swishes, letting you blink and rub your eyes, looking around before squinting at him, saying a quick 'thanks' before swimming to your small den.

That's dangerous, don't you know you should be attentive at all times? Not every mer is as nice as he is right now.

With one last peek, he swims away to continue with his night routine, what he needed to do is done and he won't do more, you aren't his responsibility if you're not Price's responsibility.

Yet, anyways.

For now, your naps and quiet time together are enough for him, even if he has to look out for Soap.

#haven't written in so long #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #monster x reader #monster fucker #simon ghost riley #merman #mermay #this could count as part two #or not #or something read on its own too #mini collab with someone else #y'all see

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keigosdear · 2 months

Text

think of this as like… slightly smutty fluff? it’s more like fluff with a little bit of smut than fluffy smut. when I thought this up at 2 am I had originally pictured atsumu, but then I was like WAIT. this is so suna. so enjoy <3

fem!reader, reader has an absurd amount of hickeys. nipple play, verbal teasing, reader really likes marks… allusions to previous and future sex. MDNI.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

as soon as you see your reflection in the mirror, you gasp and bring a hand up to your neck.

the very same neck that’s absolutely covered with marks. how did he even sneak that many in without you noticing?

any other day you’d be admiring how pretty they are and reminiscing on how you got them in the first place, but you’re meeting friends for lunch in two hours.

so instead you march back into the bedroom and start whacking your fiancé, who’s still sleeping peacefully, with a pillow.

“ow! hey, babe, what the fuck-“ he tries to defend himself by putting his arms up.

“I said no marks!” you hiss, getting one final hit in before you let him sit up.

he takes one look at your neck and snickers. “damn, babe, did you try the whisk already?”

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “this isn’t funny, rin! I told you not to mark me up last night, but you made me look like overripe fruit! a whisk won’t fix this!”

rin gets out of bed and slowly starts walking you back against the wall as you rant. you can feel your resolve dissipating and there’s little you can do to stop it once your back hits the wall. “I mean what even are you, a vampire?”

he laughs for real this time and leans in a bit closer. “maybe. do they hurt? let me kiss them better, baby…” he starts trailing gentle, innocent kisses along your jaw before moving lower.

“ohhh no,” you start, pushing at his shoulders when he reaches the first mark. “you and your lips aren’t allowed anywhere near my neck for the next three to five business days,” you manage to get out in between your own laughter bubbling up.

suna gives you a look that could only mean trouble. “aw, but you love my lips on your neck,” he says and then smirks. “clearly.”

you roll your eyes. “rules are rules, you should’ve thought about the consequences beforehand.”

both of you know you won’t last that long before he’s back to his usual antics, but he decides to humor you for now.

“fine,” he sighs, picking you up and carrying you back to bed, ignoring your protests. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

you nod. “yes you did.”

“and I’m very sorry, baby.”

“no you’re not.”

“no I’m not,” he agrees.

you sigh. “also you have to buy me a new tube of concealer, I’m gonna be out once I’m done trying to cover all this up.”

he frowns a little. “hm, fine, but I hate it when you cover these up…” he hums. “suppose it can’t be helped this time.”

your breath hitches when he toys with the neckline of your tank top. “guess I’ll just need to start leaving marks in more hidden areas,” he murmurs to himself, as though he’s entranced by your chest. “you don’t mind, right?”

your eyes widen. of course you don’t mind- he’s realized over the years just how much you enjoy it when he leaves marks, and he’s gotten really good at using it to his advantage.

he leans down to kiss the base of your throat and you gasp. he starts a trail from there to the valley of your breasts.

“this area seems like a good place to start…” he shifts your top so that it’s pulled up over your chest. your nipples harden at the cool air and he immediately latches on to one of them.

you gasp and instinctively tangle one of your hands in his hair. “rin,” you moan, unable to stop the noise from escaping. “we can’t, I have to leave soon.”

he doesn’t stop his tongue from rolling over the hardened bud for even a second and you wonder if he even heard you.

if you’re late to another hang out, your friends would never let you hear the end of it.

but honestly, once he lifts his hand to start pinching at your other nipple, your head is tossed back along with your worries. “rin, please…”

the whiny tone of your voice entices him to pull back with a pop! and look up at you with a smug expression. “please what?”

you huff in frustration and stare up at the ceiling, unwilling to stare into his eyes. “please…” you grit out.

he rests his chin on your sternum and lazily traces circles over one bud with his index finger. “take your time baby, I’ve got all day.”

you bite your lip to force down any noises that want to break free and try to use your words. you know he knows what you want, and he knows you have trouble asking for things.

you assume this is his revenge for being woken up by your pillow attack. asshole.

“rin please, I want more…”

suna grins and (thankfully) doesn’t torture you any longer. he bites down onto one of the meatier parts of your supple breast and soothes it with his tongue.

“good girl,” his tone is completely patronizing and only serves to tug at the ribbon holding what’s left of your obstinacy together and deal the final blow.

he has you right where he wants you- a needy mess underneath him.

he trails his hand down to your sleep shorts and toys with the waistband. “let’s see how wet you are from just a little bit of teasing, hm?”

you pull your shorts down when he shoots you an expectant look and you bite your lip when the cool air hits your folds.

two lithe fingers drag up your slit, gathering your juices, and tap your clit. a whimper leaves your lips and he licks his fingers clean with a smile. “you taste amazing, baby…”

he moves down your body slowly, leaving kisses and gentle nibbles along your tummy until he’s slotted in between your thighs.

he leans his cheek on top of one and looks up at you with faux sympathy. “sorry babe, looks like you’re gonna be late again.”

if your mind wasn’t so muddled with lust, you’d roll your eyes and tell him to get on with it, maybe even call him a dick for pushing back your plans. instead you card a hand through his hair and give him your best set of puppy dog eyes.

“please, rin, hurry up,” your voice is barely a whisper, but he hears you and doesn’t waste any more time.

you’re sure the amount of shit you’ll get from your friends later will be well worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed!!

@nyctophilicroses @makkir0ll here it is!!

#suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #suna x reader smut #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #hq smut

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Text

141 + Königs Reactions To Reader Asking Them To Lay On Them

Warnings: swearing, mentions of crying

Based on the following request from @gaymistakeboi , I accidentally hit post before I was finished, so the actual request vanished🫠🫣

Request- Hi! Second request that I was gonna ask for! Reader with the 141+Köing where reader has a bad day and gets overstimulated and just looks at their boy and goes "lay on me" and the boys are like "sorry what", reader just looks them in the eys and says "did I fucking stutter? Full weight. On me. Now." I want nothing more in life than just have the crushing weight of a guy a lot bigger than me just crushing me."

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Simon Ghost Riley-

You'd been watching Simon for the better part of an hour as he sat across from you on the other couch. He was hunched over slightly, his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to finish the Sunday paper's crossword puzzle.

You smiled to yourself, realizing in that moment how much you loved him.

"Si, can you come here?" You asked, your arms stretched out, hands making a grabbing motion toward your husband.

Simon looked up from the paper, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and stood from his spot on the couch opposite of you. He walked over to you and sat down by your feet as he grabbed your hand to place a delicate kiss in your wrist.

"No, not like that." You whined.

Simon's brow quirked as a sly smile fell across his lips. "Like how?"

"Lay on top of me." You asked, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Please?"

"You're serious?" He asked, slightly concerned. "Sweetheart, I'm like three times the size of you."

"Simon fucking Riley just get over here and crush me with your body, damnit."

Simon let out a hearty chuckle as he threw his hands up in mock defeat. "You asked for this, kid."

He pulled away the blanket that was covering you and proceeded to lay himself fully on top of you, his entire body weight pressed firmly into yours.

You sighed in content as you pressed kisses to the exposed flesh of Simon's neck. "You're so handsome, you know that?"

"You tell me this, as my body is crushing yours?" He chuckled softly. He shifted his weight slightly, causing you to groan beneath him.

"It's every person's dream, to be crushed by an amazingly attractive, built military man, is it not?" You giggled, running your hand along his cheek.

"Can't say it's mine, sweetheart. But I wouldn't mind you laying on top of me." He pressed a warm kiss to your temple before flipping the two of you over, so your weight was now on him. "I love you, kid."

"I love you too, Simon."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

To say you couldn't get comfortable in bed tonight was an understatement. You tossed and turned endlessly, unable to get into a position in which you could fall asleep.

Halfway through the night, you rolled over on your side, facing your boyfriend Johnny, who was passed out. You began to tug on his shirt, causing his eyes to blink open slowly.

"Y/N, babe, you alright?" He asked, his voice gruff from sleep.

"Can't sleep." You murmured.

"How can I help?" He sat up slightly, wiping at his face.

You kept wordlessly pulling on Johnny's shirt, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Babe, speak up. I don't know what you want." Johnny chuckled as his eyes raked up and down his figure.

"Lay on me." Your voice barely above a whisper.

"Lay on you?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Did I stutter? Thought my request was pretty clear." You bit, but Johnny could sense the playfulness in your tone.

"Oof, listen to that attitude." He quipped, a devious smile making its way on his face. "Fine, you asked for it."

He sat up, making his way over to you, before plopping his full body weight on top of you. You let out a small squeal as he landed on you, turning your face slightly as the hairs from his mohawk began to tickle at your nose.

It was pleasant at first. The only sounds that filled the rooms were soft breathing and the sound of Johnny's heartbeat. Johnny, being Johnny, then decided to push his weight into you just a bit more causing his weight to be too much for you.

"Okay, wait, wait, you're too heavy now. Get off." You chuckled, shoving at his chest playfully.

"Nah, this is what you wanted brat, you gotta deal with it." He teased, slowly rolling himself around on your form. "Maybe you'll think next time before giving your amazingly awesome boyfriend attitude."

"Johnny!" You choked out a laugh as he finally pulled himself off of you. "You're a jerk!"

"Only doing what you asked of me, babe. Now get your pretty ass over here and cuddle with me."

König-

"Köönnniiigggg." You called out, wiping away the stray tears that fell down your face. The day you had was horrible. It was one of those days where nothing seemed to go right, and all you wanted was to go home and lay in bed.

"Maus? Is everything okay?" He came into the bedroom quickly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he took in your crying state.

"Can you..can you come lay on me?" You asked, your cheeks burning a crimson red. It wasn't something you'd ever asked him before, but you wanted nothing more than to be crushed by your giant lover.

"L-Lay on you? Schatz, I'll crush you. I don't want to hurt you." He stuttered out, slowly making his way to your side of the bed. "What's going on?"

"I've just had a shit day, and I really want you to lay on me." You blinked up at him, as your bottom lip trembled.

König regarded you carefully for a moment, trying to see if you were messing with him. He truly was worried he'd crush you, but he couldn't ever say no to you.

He took off his shoes and hoodie before climbing over top of you in the bed. "If I get too heavy, pat my back and I'll get up, okay Maus?"

You nodded as a victorious smile lined your lips. Your arms and legs securely fastened around his body, as he slowly laid himself down on you. You could tell he was holding back, though, and wasn't putting his full weight on you.

"This is what you wanted?" He asked, chuckling slightly as he heard your giggles from underneath him.

"Yes." You replied, taking the deepest breath you could with your mass of a boyfriend on top of you.

"Am I...hurting you?" He asked, timidly.

"Not at all, Kö. This is nice." You hummed, relishing in the feeling of some of his weight on you. It was clear he still wasn't okay with putting his full weight on you, and a lot of it was shifted to his arms, which hovered around your head.

You absentmindedly drew random figures into your boyfriend's back with your fingers, as you felt the stress of your day begin to wash away.

"Let me hold you, Maus." König said softly, his lips grazing your neck. He felt you nod against his chest, so he sat up slightly and laid on his side before pulling you into his chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head wordlessly as your fingers laced with his.

"Okay, well, when you want to talk, I'm here, always."

And when you were ready to talk, he listened.

John Price-

"Sorry it took me so long to finish up. The paperwork took longer than I would've liked." John whispered in your ear as he came up behind you while you were washing your face.

You gave him a smile in the reflection of the mirror, before patting your face dry. "It's alright, love."

"Are you okay?" He asked, as his brows furrowed slightly.

"Just a long day. Nothing a good cuddle with my husband won't cure." You turned to wrap your arms around his waist and stared to pull him backward toward the bed.

As you fell back onto the bed, your grip on your husband's waist tightened, and your legs latched around his lower abdomen, effectively locking him in a tight grasp.

"Baby, what are you doing?" John chuckled, pulling away slightly to smile down at you. "Did you want something?"

"Just stay like this with me. It feels good." You breathed out, your lover's weight fully pinning you into the bed.

"Sweetheart, I'm crushing you."

"It's okay, I like it." You spoke as you nuzzled your face into your husband's chest.

"Anything you want to talk about?" He asked, as his fingers stroked at your face mindlessly.

"Just a long day. Just wanna lay here like this with you." You replied, nuzzling your face into John's hand.

"I can do that."

It was a few moments later when John spoke up again. "Love? Are you still with me?"

Instead of a verbal response, he heard a soft snore emit from your lips underneath him, causing him to chuckle softly. "You will be the death of me."

He rolled over gently so as not to wake you as he pulled you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle had been gaming nearly all night, and you were desperate for his affection. It wasn't often he had game nights like this, and you were happy he was enjoying himself, but you were unable to prolong your neediness any further.

Once he got to a saving point, you pulled the controller away from him, setting it on the table in front of the couch. He turned to you with a confused expression, the slightest bit of a smirk evident on his lips. "Babe?"

"Lay on me."

Kyle blinked a few times, trying to process your request. "What?"

"I asked you to lay on me." You huffed, pouting out your bottom lip in the way he liked.

Kyle gave a hearty chuckle before grabbing a blanket and throwing it on the floor. He picked you up bridal style, while grabbing a pillow, and moved to lay you on the makeshift bed he created on the floor.

"You're sure?" He asked, his lips upturned in a devious smile.

"Yes."

He moved to lay on top of you, spreading his body weight throughout the length of your body.

You erupted in a fit of giggles as Kyle shifted his weight on you. "Wait, Ky, you're doing it wrong!"

"How on earth am I doing it wrong? You asked me to lay on you!" Kyle couldn't help the laughter that escaped his lips.

"You're supposed to lovingly lay on me!" You gasped out, Kyle's weight becoming too much for you. "This isn't loving!"

Kyle roared with laughter. "How am I supposed to lovingly lay on you, you wanker!"

Giving up on trying to appease your wishes, he took matters into his own hands. He slipped his fingers under your shirt and began to tickle at your sides, causing you to squeal in delight. "My little pet wants attention? I'll give em attention."

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A/N: Thanks for reading!🙂

#cod imagine #mw2 imagine #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #konig x reader #konig imagine #konig mw2 #gaz imagine #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #captain price #price x reader #price imagine #soap mctavish #soap imagine #soap x reader

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trulybetty · 3 months

Text

warm bread & honey

pairing: jackson!joel x reader word count: 3,325 warnings: a little sprinkling of angst if you squint hard enough, briefest mentions of past injuries, no descriptions of reader, use of a nickname, no y/n, just soft and cozy post tlou season one joel deserves estimated reading time: 17 minutes summary: joel returns home to you from patrol ao3: linked

a/n: it's been a while, eh? had to take an unplanned hiatus but trying to figure out how to jump back in - figured a good place to start was by clearing out my wip's. this had been semi-finished for a while, but I wasn't sure it'd fit, then I figured I should just post it - a reminder of writing for yourself first, right?

“The teapot is hot!” You warned when you heard the familiar drag of one of the kitchen chairs being pulled out against the worn wooden floor. The ceramic pot, not long filled with hot water and tea, was made in anticipation of the completion of your morning's baking you had started in the early hours, unable to sleep for tossing and turning.

You had both hands gloved and inside the oven pulling out a loaf of bread, but your forewarning hadn’t been enough to prevent the hissed curse that sounded from behind you.

Carefully placing the fresh loaf atop the stove, its smell filled the kitchen and enveloped you in a comforting embrace, though it could be easily argued that feeling had more to do with the house's new arrival than anything else.

“I told you it was hot,” you admonished as you pulled off the oven gloves turning around to find a sheepish Joel sitting at the kitchen table, you gave him a warm smile, “Hi.”

Joel, his jacket already shrugged off and in the process of rolling up his sleeves gave you an equally comforting smile, one that said he was pleased to see you after days apart, “Hi,” he replied.

Throwing the gloves to the counter you took the three wide steps to close the distance between the two of you. Just the knowledge of him being home, seeing him in one piece, was enough to release the tension that sunk into your bones every time he went on patrol or for anything that required leaving the safety of Jackson’s confines.

As you took that final step, watching him turn in his seat to throw his jacket over the back of the chair beside him, the early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen and highlighting the subtle signs of weariness on his face. Despite the tired weathered lines and the shadows beneath his eyes, his smile when he looked back up at you was genuine, a silent testament to the comfort he found in simply being back home, back with you.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” you observed, your voice a gentle blend of concern and welcome.

Joel shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him as he subconsciously ran his fingers down to his side, the subtle movement betraying the discomfort he tried to dismiss, “It’s nothin’ darlin’. Just the cold reminding me I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said, attempting to downplay the lingering pain from the old jagged scar at his side.

His attempt to brush off his discomfort didn't fool you; you knew him too well to deny the nuance of his movements as something else, his attempts to hide the silent hiss under his breath. You reached out, your fingers tracing the air just shy of the old wound, a silent acknowledgment of the battles he'd weathered, both external and internal.

Joel's gaze held yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it with a lopsided smile.

The morning light, now brighter, spilled into the kitchen, casting long shadows and highlighting the fine dust particles dancing in the air. It was serene, a quiet moment shared between the two of you. Your hip propped against the heavy farmhouse table your hand reached out instinctively to touch his arm, feeling the cold that he’d carried in through the front door seeping from his skin through his now rolled-up sleeves.

“How about,” your fingers toyed with the buttons that did up the front of his shirt, “you let me run you a warm shower,” you suggested, knowing all too well he wouldn’t admit to the true discomfort of the aches the cold weather brought to his old wounds.

Joel’s eyes, a mix of fatigue and the warmth of finally being home met yours. For a moment he seemed to weigh the offer, the stubborn part of him that disliked admitting any form of weakness at war with his need to sink into you. Finally, his resolve melted away, a soft smile escaping him as he gave into the warmth of your proposition.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Only if you’re joining me.”

You laughed, it was light and genuine with the heaviness of Joel’s absence lifted, his return sweeping out the heavy air that always settled in with each departure.

“I suppose, that can be arranged,” you teased, a knowing look passing between the two of you.

Joel’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as if welcoming back an old friend, “Is that right darlin’?”

“Fresh sheets on the bed too.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in that simple gesture. You’d been together for quite some time and yet still he was touched with disbelief that this was life, that anticipation of the domesticity you brought him, something he had believed he’d ever get to indulge in again.

“Well, don’t you know how to welcome a man home,” his smirk deepening into an expression of gratitude.

He stood from the chair, his movements still carrying evidence of his fatigue and the hollow ache in his bones. The faintest grimace crossed his face, quickly replaced by a lazy grin as he caught your disapproving look. He shooed you through the kitchen door to avoid any potential fussing, a light touch to your lower back, guiding you to the stairs.

The house was still, the only sound was the soft creak of the floorboards underfoot and the distant whistle of the wind outside, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

The shower’s sound filled the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls within the shower stall. Steam filled the room as you helped Joel out of his clothes, finally resigned to giving in to your care and attention. With each piece of clothing shed, dropped to the floor, revealed more of the toll the patrol had taken on his body.

He let out a hiss as your fingers grazed over new dark bruises, shadows under his skin in a mottled watercolour display in purple and blue. Despite his attempts to downplay it, the patrol had clearly been a tough one.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said gruffly, catching the concern on your face, swiftly replaced with a roll of your eyes in response.

Joel stepped into the shower, and let out a soft groan as the hot water cascaded over his sore body. He bowed his head under the stream as he braced one hand against the shower wall. Stripped of your own clothes, you stepped in behind him, hands coming to rest on his hips. Slowly, your fingers began to knead the tense muscles along his back, feeling him quickly relax into your touch.

“Rough one out there this time,” he muttered, a tinge of bitterness in his tone as his eyes closed at your touch.

In the safety of the intimate space of the shower, the water releasing the tension from his shoulders, there was a vulnerability that Joel seldom showed.

You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently applying it to his shoulders. Carefully you worked the soap over his body in a meticulous order, paying extra attention to the areas marred by bruises. When you reached the back of his head you massaged your fingers into his hair with a gentleness that was born out of years of shared moments just like that one.

Joel tilted his head back into your touch, a deep moan escaped his throat as your nails scratched at his scalp, fingers tangling in the curls that had grown longer with the winter weather and his reluctance to stay on top of trimming it. After a moment or two, begrudgingly, you took your fingers from his hair. He bowed his head under the shower head once again to allow the hot water to rinse out the suds.

Your eyes traced the scars that adorned his back and shoulders like constellations. You could shut your eyes and still map out each one without any hesitation. Many a night, you had traced the lines of his back as he lay on his stomach with you lying next to him. Your fingers brushed strokes over its curves as you talked, sometimes of life before Jackson, life before everything stopped. You would talk about those you missed, who didn’t make it, left behind in a world that was no longer recognizable. Other times, silence was enough, a gentle shroud draped over the two of you.

With the suds long rinsed out, he turned to face you. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you. There was a time when this look made you feel vulnerable and far too exposed, with your own scars, those both visible and not, on full display. But now it brought you comfort, that familiarity between the two of you had grown into something precious.

“You look after me too well, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the shower’s spray.

“Who else is going to?” you replied, a hint of amusement to your tone as you pushed back an errant curl from his forehead.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The familiar scratch of his beard against your skin felt like home. His breath hitched as you moved your hands around his hips and up the curve of his back, your nails a light scratch against his skin. A sigh of contentment passed between you both, carried away by the steam rising around you.

Pulling back for a moment, his need to pause in the moment, to take it all in, his eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but notice the affection they held, a far contrast from when you’d first laid eyes on Joel Miller. The man you had first met was skittish, kept quiet in his new arrival in Jackson. You’d met him that night at the Tipsy Bison, Eugene regaling the room with a story of your day's misfortune and you’d made your way to the bar to avoid the heckles.

What started as casual conversations at the bar on more than one occasion turned into shared meals in the main hall, Joel too polite to leave when you joined him, then the odd patrols together, and eventually late nights spent in each other's company neither wanting the night to end.

His thumbs gently caressed your cheeks, and you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed at the sweet gesture. He pressed his lips to yours once more. The hot water continued to cascade over you both, creating a warm cocoon you didn’t ever want to leave. Your hands returned to his hips, taking their time as they moved from the curve of his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist.

“Feels good,” Joel murmured against your lips, his voice husky and thick with gratitude, his eyes half closed as he rocked into the movement of your fingers as they pressed into the tight muscle once again. “But if you keep that up honey, I fear one of us is going to put their back out tryin’ something in this shower we have no business trying. Anyway,” he continued, “didn’t you say something about clean sheets?”

You laughed, as you continued to knead his hips, “I might have mentioned it,” you replied as you gave him a playful pinch.

Joel’s laughter joined yours, a deep, comforting sound that resonated against the tiled walls. Amidst the steam and cascading water it felt precious, a rare moment of lightness that felt almost sacred in its intimacy.

The two of you finished your shower with a comfortable efficiency in a silent communication that spoke of the years and experiences you’d shared.

Once dried and wrapped in freshly laundered towels you led Joel by the hand to the bedroom where the promise of fresh sheets awaited, The morning sun had begun to fill the room with a soft golden light that made everything feel a lot more peaceful than the days gone by in Joel’s absence. The bed, freshly made in the early hours when you’d given up on any attempts of sleep, beckoned the two of you to rest and to find solace in each other now both its inhabitants were home.

Joel sat on the edge, his movements slow, a mixture of exhaustion and lingering discomfort. You watched him for a moment, his face bathed in the winter’s sun the lines of his face were softened and for a moment you felt like you were getting a small glimpse of a younger Joel as he closed his eyes and lifted his head to soak in the scant warmth it brought. You felt a surge of gratitude for his safe return, to the quiet life the two of you had managed to carve out together in a world that offered no guarantees.

Joel cracked open an eye to look at you at the end of the bed, “You can come on over honey, don’t have to watch from the cheap seats.”

You shook your head as you laughed, no hesitation in following his invitation. You positioned yourself in front of him as he spread his knees to make room for you to nestle between them, bringing your chest flush with his. Carefully he began to peel the towel from around you, his fingers grazing your skin with a gentleness that belied the strength within them.

As the towel dropped to the floor at your feet, you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines that time had etched into his skin, each one a testament to the life he had lived. He caught your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the palm before guiding you down to follow him as he lay on the bed.

The sheets, cool and inviting, contrasted with the warmth that radiated from Joel as he pulled you closer. The world outside the window seemed to hold its breath, the light that fell across the room created a haven from the chaos that lay beyond. There with him beside you, for the briefest of moments you could just pretend that it was a regular Saturday morning, just like the ones before the world had changed, where the two of you could have simply been another regular couple.

You closed the space between you, your fingers tangling in his damp locks while his lips met yours. The kiss was soft but held an air of a fight of urgency against the need to savour the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, swollen in response to both his kisses and his three-day beard.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, causing a growl to rumble in Joel’s chest in response. His arms wrapped tighter around you. It was always the way when he returned, he never rushed, took every moment in slowly, savouring every touch, every sound that he pulled from you. His lips found your neck, his beard scraping the sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips continued to graze a path from your earlobe to your collarbone.

He nuzzled at your jaw, his kisses light and teasing causing you to squirm in delight as you tried to pull his mouth to yours. His laughter was low and husky in your ear as instead he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were alight despite the tiredness that framed them and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your hand found his cheek and he leaned into your embrace.

The tiny bit of warmth of the morning sun framed the two of you, amplified by the heat that had built between you both, wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortable and familiar. His lips found yours again, unable to be parted for too long. His hand cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you as if testing if you were really there, if the moment was real between the two of you. Confident he had a hold of you, he rolled over onto this back, bringing you with him so that you were straddling him.

Both hands now at your waist his thumbs stroked absent-minded circles against your skin. You glanced down at him, taking in the sight of his now closed eyes and relaxed features. His exhaustion was apparent more than ever. But the sight of pure contentment on his face made your heart flutter.

The air between you was charged with static, which only seemed to grow in intensity with each breath, each touch, and each whispered word. The worries you’d had during his absence, tied up alongside the knot in your stomach were now coming undone with the soothing balm of his presence.

You leant forward again, this time your lips met his in a simple chaste kiss that had him humming appreciatively beneath you as he moved his hands to the small of your back. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, a sudden slam of what sounded like the back kitchen door punctuated the serene atmosphere, startling the two of you and Joel to grip onto you a little tighter. The muffled sounds of footsteps and voices drifted up the stairs bursting what was left of the bubble of intimacy you and Joel had carefully cultivated.

“Ah, sweet! Honey made bread!” Ellie’s voice, unmistakable and filled with loud delight echoed up through the house, followed by another voice that you had to strain to hear, Dina, a lot more soft-spoken than Ellie.

“Looks like they left in a rush,” Dina said as you heard cupboards being opened and closed with such ferocity that it could only be Ellie. Joel shook his head beneath you as the two of you waited to hear more of what was happening downstairs, “Ellie, didn’t Joel just get home from patrol?”

A brief silence passed, you could’ve sworn you could have heard a pin drop as the whole house seemed to hold its breath. Then came a flurry of whispered curses from Ellie, her realization finally dawning on her.

“Oh shit,” she exclaimed, before raising her voice, a mixture of haste and apology in one, “Welcome home Joel! Sorry Honey! You two, keep doing your thing—ouch!” you could only assume Dina had stopped Ellie in her tracks before she said something she shouldn’t, “Anyway, we’re leaving! But we’re taking the bread!”

Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie and Dina continued to bicker as they left the kitchen. It wasn’t until you both heard the satisfying click of the kitchen lock that you both let out a laugh. The interruption had shattered the tension between the two of you, leaving you both in a fit of laughter.

As the laughter subsided, you brushed a thumb over his rough cheek as he stifled a yawn, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch once more. Another kiss to his lips before you rolled yourself off of him to lay down beside him, but still just as close. He pulled you in against his chest, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck, his arms holding you tight, his fingers tracing imagined patterns on your bare skin.

He was home, you could hear the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear. Outside the wind picked up in spite of the early peaceful sun that rose over Jackson. A reminder that despite the peace Joel’s return had brought, there still was a looming threat outside its boundaries, its frozen breath seeping through wooden walls. You held onto him a little tighter, knowing that despite wishing that you both could be a normal couple in a life full of normalities, the time you had together was tenuous at best.

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