#and there are 3 goddamn belts

[whatsagauntlet]

Hear me out. Tribal Chief Jey and Wise Man Sami. The locker room hates them because they're disgustingly sweet. Oh there they are gazing at each other like the sun shines out their asses. Oh there they go again all over each other like they're trying to achieve fusion. They still meet secretly in the back by all the pallets. The only scheming they do is their next date to Waffle House. In the end it's still wrestling so they beat someone up. It's probably deserved (threats are no joke), or maybe just for funsies if they're feeling feisty

[gu6chan]

just found out my tl works have been put on a website with machine-translated content by one of the same ppl who reassured me not to quit translation because it was "irreplaceably human" during a crisis where i was left questioning the whole point of my efforts when those exact "works" got passed off as something with just as much artistic merit

[toastdahost]

MANAGER KIM 105 SPOILER❗

As no one else posted I take the responsibility

Behold the man I love,cherish and marry

[hongjoongpresent]

BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER

[exopelagic]

my new flatmate just put raw uncooked spaghetti in a hot frying pan. no water. I can still smell it burning from my room. what

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | You've patched up Joel countless times before, but this is different.

author's note | i'm taking a little break to work through some series and pre-write but i needed to write a little fix it fic for my own well being. ANYWHO, if you're reading this, thank you <3 and thank you to @chaotic-mystery for the beta read, love you bitch

content warning | hurt/comfort, fix-it-fic, jackson!joel, s2ep2 spoilers, established relationship, medic!reader, wound tending, mentions of leg injury and some face injuries, old man joel using a cane, flirting, fluff, kissing, i'm going to go cry again

word count — 3.8k

He’s breathing. Alive.

You’ve patched up Joel countless times - cuts and gashes that were too far out of reach for him to handle on his own, a busted ankle from a construction project gone wrong, the occasional painkiller to help with his aching bones. He was a regular within the clinic, like most of the patrol team. And he was your favorite, which wasn’t a secret.

But, this was different.

Tommy - as hard as he tried, attempted to shelter you with the rest of Jackson’s women and children, but it was useless.

You spent the last hour patching up the towns wounded and helping lay to the rest some of the less fortunate, but brave people who had attempted to defend Jackson from the impending horde.

In the chaos of cleaning up bloodied bandages and used medical supplies, the front door to the clinic sounds, bells ringing out so deafening it makes your heart stop.

And the sound of Tommy’s panicked voice as he called out your name.

When you turn the corner to catch sight of him, it was Tommy and Jesse carrying a limp, sleeping Joel on a makeshift gurney and equally injured Ellie holding tight to her ribs as Dina and Maria supported her weight, your eyes widening in shock.

“Fuck—I—what happened?” you ask, immediately sliding the supplies off of the only semi-available operating table you had in the office - it used to be a veterinary clinic, but the town was making do with what they had.

“You save my goddamn brother,” Tommy demanded, his tone riddled with an emotional pain you couldn’t fathom, taking the order in stride as you nodded and put your own curiosity aside, slowly accessing the weight of the situation and surmising that this had been an ambush, more or less, “alright?”

You access his knee, jeans matted with blood around his festering wound, his leg tourniqueted by a belt that Tommy explains wasn’t there doing, rather the attackers. His pulse is steady as your fingers over his femoral artery once you’ve cut his jeans open further with the scissors.

“El—Ellie,” your voice shakes slightly, looking over your shoulder to catch her grimace as she hunched over further in pain, “she needs—”

“I’ve got her,” Maria assures you and Tommy, who was understandably only focused on Joel.

You don’t waste another second, working around Tommy on instinct while Jesse followed the girls to the back room, a gentle but reassuring hand on your shoulder as he passes by.

Your hands move gently over his wound, mind racing through every step of triage and trauma care as if your nerves hadn’t already been shot an hour ago. You didn’t know how many wounds you’ve treated today, but Joel’s was the worst—and unspeakably, the most important.

The wound is bad. Deep.

Frayed flesh around the spread of the bullet, a shotgun you can assume, already turning an angry red. The steps were simple, fortunately. You’ll have to clean it out, maybe even dig if the bullet fragments were lodged in deep. 

His face is a mosaic of bruises and dried blood, and he hasn’t stirred once.

That—more than the sight of the injury itself—makes something in your chest clench.

Tommy’s gripping the table tight, white knuckling as his jaw clenched in worry.

“Do I want to know?” you ask softly.

Tommy shakes his head slightly, “Ellie ain’t said much—jus’ know whatever the problem was, it isn’t one anymore.”

“He’s gonna need blood,” you explain to him as you work quietly but carefully on the wound, grateful that most of the issue was at the surface and that with enough time to heal and consistent check-ins, Joel would recover.

Undoubtedly with a limp, but you knew Joel—he’d manage.

The quiet is unsettling, though.

He should be fighting this. Groaning. Cursing. Something.

But he’s still.

Too still.

Tommy stays rooted in place like he’s afraid Joel will vanish if he lets go.

Part of you carries that fear, too.

With the attack on Jackson, everything seemed up in the air.

“I need you to keep your hand here,” you say firmly, guiding his hand to the artery in his leg, feeling the steady pulse underneath your fingertips. “Count the beats, focus. If it slows, weakens—don’t wait, tell me.”

Tommy nods, jaw still clenched tight.

He’s got blood dripping from a cut in his brow, covered in dirt and grime, streaks on his face from the tears he was shedding quietly, it was your only attempt to busy his mind.

You work diligently, more focused than you had been all evening.

Forceps clink against the metal tray as you dig out fragments, your breath hitching every time Joel twitches—barely, like his body’s fighting beneath layers of pain and unconsciousness.

You glance toward the IV stand that was taped to hell, barely holding on.

Just like everything else in Jackson at the moment – like Joel.

“I’m gonna flush the wound,” you murmur more to yourself than Tommy, gripping the saline syringe with steady hands. “Then I’ll stitch it. Antibiotics to be safe. He’ll need pain meds and I need to work on the cuts to his face, but I want his body to rest. We have morphine stored away, but I know Joel will probably refuse…”

Tommy doesn’t respond. Just keeps his hand pressed where you told him, eyes locked on Joel’s face like he’s willing him to wake.

“He still needs blood, Tommy,” you remind him, “but I don’t know his blood type.”

“I’m O-negative,” Tommy interjects.

“That works,” you assure him, nodding for him to sit as you grab the supplies to draw Tommy’s blood, unflinching as the needle slips into his vein.

It’s all rather quick, kneeling to hold the bag as it fills while Tommy stares at his brother, looking briefly over your shoulder to catch his breathing, a slow rise and fall.

“He’s gonna be alright,” you assure Tommy, “the worst outcome here is him complaining about having to use a cane, if it comes to that.

Quietly, you tend to the small head wound that Tommy has and he doesn’t even attempt to argue, eyes flickering to your briefly at the gesture, tilting his head up for better access.

You move efficiently, like muscle memory as you tape up his wound before transferring the blood and prepping the line for Joel. 

The line finds Joel’s vein without much resistance, and you secure it with shaking fingers, your breath held as the dark crimson slowly, mercifully begins to flow into his body.

“C’mon, Joel,” you whisper under your breath. “Not you.”

“He was in and out on the way here,” Tommy comments, holding the cotton ball to use the wound as he stands and you quickly return to him to bandage up and pressure the wound, “but now he’s just…still. That ain’t good,”

“It’s the body responding to the pain,” you remind him, “he’s clearly lost a lot of blood, his face is bruised—the important thing is he’s breathing and his pulse is good. Just…let me work on him. Go check on Ellie.”

Tommy hesitates, glancing back at Joel like his feet were already rooted permanently to the floor. Then his eyes shift to yours—tired, firm, unwavering—and he nods, finally stepping away. 

Just far enough to check on Ellie. 

Just long enough to breathe.

The second he’s gone, it’s just you and Joel.

–

The room feels colder without the presence of Tommy’s worry. 

You stitch slowly, methodically, carefully maneuvering around the skin until you are satisfied, constantly eyeing Joel to gauge a reaction, noticing some of his color had returned, hair damp with melted snow.

If he was awake he’d be grumbling and complaining and part of you hates how much you wanted to hear it as you bandage up his knee, assuring that bleeding was under control before you removed the belt on his upper thigh and grabbing a spare blanket to drape over his body as you move down to tend to his face, riddled with cuts and bruises.

You press a hand against his and pull it to his chest, resting gently against the fabric of his shirt. 

His palm is rough, calloused, and warm—thank god, still warm.

You clean the last of the blood from his face, wiping gently along the arc of his brow, around the corner of his eye that was slightly swollen. A bruise is blooming dark down the line of his jaw, but under it—his face is still familiar.

Still him.

After a stretch of time that feels like eternity, Maria and Tommy return to the front room of the clinic, looking fearful as their eyes land on Joel.

“He’s alright,” you assure them both, “he probably needed the rest, too.”

Tommy chuckles weakly at that, “I—we’re…we’re gonna go pick up Benji, but we’ll be back, alright?”

You nod in response, “I’m not leaving until he wakes up Tommy, I promised.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tommy says endearingly, approaching you with arms open slightly, enveloping you into a short hug that were few and far between, “Ellie’s asleep, too. Dina and Jesse are sticking around until she settles.”

The front door clicks shut behind Tommy and Maria, the heavy silence seeping back in soon after.

You don’t move far, bringing a stool to sit beside Joel.

The clinic is dim now, the lights softened by fucky wiring as the evening crept in.

You can hear Jesse’s and Dina’s muffled voice in the back—low and quiet—and the distant creak of the cot Ellie’s curled into. But here, in this room, it’s just you. 

And Joel, and the quiet hum of his breathing.

You reach up to brush a stray bit of hair from his temple, your hand pausing just above his skin.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you whisper. “If you were awake, I’d be screaming at you,”

And you know he’d only smile.

Joel doesn’t respond, but his breathing shifts. 

Not much—just enough to prove he’s still there, riding the edge of sleep and pain.

“You enjoy it, though. You always laugh, I know it’s pointless and that you’re just stubborn as all hell and I’m willing to put up with it,” you push the few strands of hair away from his face and sigh, “guess there’s a reason why you always ask for me.”

A few hours pass, the night creeping in slowly amongst the storm that roared outside.

You glance at his hand after a thorough check-up and redressing his wound for good measure, still resting palm-up where you’d placed it. Hesitant, your fingers slip into his, lacing slowly. 

You wait. No squeeze. 

But, the warmth is enough.

Then, a shift.

A low grunt, almost imperceptible.

Your breath catches. You look up sharply, eyes scanning his face. One eye twitches. His brow furrows just slightly.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but his mouth moves.

“Ellie?” he asks weakly, squeezing your hand back.

Tears burn your eyes before you can stop them, relief flooding your chest in waves.

You squeeze his hand back again. Tight. “She’s okay—she’s good,” you whisper quickly, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, not that it helps.

Joel breathes out, like the tension’s finally releasing from somewhere deep inside his chest. 

You watch the slow rise and fall of him for a moment, just taking it in. Life.

Then his eyes crack open, albeit one is swollen, but hazy and bloodshot and focused on you.

His brows twitch as he looks at you.

“You cryin’?” he rasps, voice rough but teasing.

Even now, he teases you.

“You worried the hell out of me,” you tell him.

“Did I?” Joel asks genuinely, “M’sorry, darlin’.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Joel grimaces and makes a soft noise, “S’all touch and go, right now. I’m really tired, that normal?”

“I gave you some painkillers,” you explain, “probably why.”

Joel looks around gingerly, noting the mess with an amused expression.

“Cleaned up real nice for me, didn’t you?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you mutter dryly, shifting to adjust the blanket over him. “Next time, I’ll set up some mood lighting and put some music on for you.”

Joel groans low in his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Nah. You singin’ for me would be good enough.”

You snort softly, “I don’t sing.”

“Shame,” he murmurs, barely audible, his eyes slipping closed again. “Bet it’d be real pretty, you got a pretty voice, know you’d sing pretty too.”

Your chest squeezes, caught somewhere between a laugh and a breath you can’t quite take.

“You’re losing it, old man.”

Joel smiles weakly.

“Maybe.”

A long pause and he speaks even soften.

“Still think you got a nice voice, though.”

–

You stay beside him. Even after he dozes back off, you don’t move—not far. Never quite letting go of his hand either. Just shift the stool closer and brace your elbow on the edge of the bed, chin tucked in your other hand. 

The storm outside has softened, now more wind than snow, rattling the windows with every gust.

You don’t realize you’ve nodded off until something shifts. A sound—low, grumbly.

“…you snore a little,” Joel rasps.

You straighten quickly and shake your head, blinking through a sleep haze as you answer him defiantly, “I do not, Miller.”

“Oh—you do, sweetheart,” Joel challenges, a subtle smirk playing at his face, staring at you through his swollen eye.

“Good to know you never stop being insufferable,” you tease him.

“Just like seein’ you laugh,” Joel admits before a silence grows, a look of subtle concern crossing his face, “How bad was it? The horde?”

“We’ve dealt with stuff like that before, maybe not at that level but it isn’t something we’re not prepared for. A couple didn’t make it, got bitten defending the watchtower—Jackson can always rebuild, we mourn, move on, you know? With you, s’different,”

Joel, for once, doesn’t know how to respond.

You see it then—that quiet, careful look he sometimes gives you when he thinks you're not watching. Like he’s cataloguing you. Not in some grand, poetic way. More like he’s memorizing how you look when you're safe. When he needs the reminder of it.

You’re too tired to do anything but meet it.

“I ain't goin' anywhere,” he says finally, voice rough but firm, “You can stop lookin’ at me like I’m about to flatline.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Joel smirks faintly. “You’ve been holdin’ my hand for a while,”

“Oh,” it started to feel like an extension of you, his touch, but you slowly attempted to retract.

“Don’t,” Joel tells you, gripping your hand tighter, shifting his head against the makeshift pillow underneath his head that you had made out of his jacket halfway through the night.

“Thanks for not givin’ up on me,” Joel says gently,

You glance over, unsure how to respond at first.

“You really think I would?”

“Dunno,” he says, voice low, “don’t really think I deserve the effort anymore from anyone…”

He trails off, but it hangs between you anyway. 

The way he says it—soft, raw—like the words snuck out before he could stop it.

You lean in slightly, brushing your thumb just once over the back of his hand.

“I’m not anyone, Joel.”

Joel looks at you again, his expression shifting.

His fingers curl around yours again. Warmer this time. Intentional.

“Five years I’ve known you—I’ve patched your ass up more times than I can count. I’ve had dinners with you, beers with you and your brother. This isn’t my attempt at gaining some good karma. I care about you just as much as the rest of this town.”

“You’re too good to me,” Joel says quietly.

–

Jackson rebuilds, but it takes time.

Eventually, you find out that the assailants were after Joel—but Jesse and Ellie had shown up at a crucial point in the ambush that saved Joel and Dina’s life, despite his extensive injuries.

And Joel, stubborn as he was, began to heal.

The first few weeks are slow, mostly bed-ridden - or office-ridden, leg propped up at his desk as he and Tommy planned out the rebuild process and you rounded your daily office visit to him for assurance that he was taking the antibiotics you had given him and checking on his wound.

It takes a few months, but he does get on his feet again.

He’s resilient, you’ll give him that. An injury that would take no less than six to eight months before the healing was done and Joel was already moving, though with some noticeable pain.

You spot him halfway down the main road on the first name where Jackson was finally starting to feel normal again, walking out of the Tipsy Bison with a pronounced limp.

You sigh to yourself, shifting the object under your arm and start down the road.

“Joel Miller.”

He doesn’t stop walking, but he flinches a little. 

He’s been avoiding you for a couple weeks now, knowing how insistent you had been about him using something to support his leg, just to give it a break once in a while.

“I will chase you down.”

He stops.

You close the distance, holding up the object in your hand.

“If you don’t use this, I’m following you everywhere, barring you from walking, and pushing you around in a wheelchair.”

He eyes the cane. Then your face. Then the cane again.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

He scowls. “I’m not usin’ a damn cane.”

“You’re still healing,” you tell him, “and if you care about my worries—you’ll use it.”

“That’s low,” Joel counters,

You had spent a week sanding down the cane to a smooth texture, rounding out the handle to something comfortable to grip, even polished it up. It was extravagant or crazy, but it was clearly made with love.

“Did you make it?” Joel asks curiously.

“Doesn’t matter,” You shrug.

Joel smirks at that. 

You had. He knows it.

He takes it wordlessly, wrapping his fingers around the handle and planting it into the ground.

He tests it out wordlessly, leaning his weight into it and only slightly annoyed at how it eases the weight on his injured leg, looking up at you sheepishly.

“So….should I say it now or?”

“Zip it,” Joel retorts with a faint playfulness, “it…helps, s’real nice of you, you know?”

You raise your brow. “You sayin’ I was right? Knowing you needed it?”

“Don’t push it.” Joel warns

“Say it.” you tease with a flirtatious smile that doesn’t go amiss.

Joel sighs, scratching at his jaw. “You were… not completely wrong.”

You beam, and he rolls his eyes, though the edge of his mouth quirks up.

After a beat, he taps the cane gently against the side of your boot.

“Walk with me?” he asks.

He didn’t even need to ask.

–

There wasn’t any indication of where you were walking to, but naturally you drift to your shared street, homes sitting on opposite sides of the street, but near enough that you were only a short walk away.

The cane clicks softly against the dirt road like a steady metronome to the quiet shuffle of your boots. His limp is pronounced, but less severe than it was a few weeks ago.

The streets are quieter these days. Jackson feels like it's exhaling after holding in a long overdue breath.

Joel walks with his shoulder close to yours. Not touching, but close enough that it would only take a shift. He’s never been one for words, not when the moment matters most—but his silence is full of meaning.

Or, maybe he is just savoring the peace.

“You really made this?” he asks again after a few paces, like he needs to be sure.

You nod shyly, hands shoving into your coat pockets.

He’s quiet for a while, but then, “It’s real thoughtful of you.”

“I was gonna carve your name into it, actually,” you joke, nudging him gently with your elbow, “but Tommy said that was a bad idea.”

Joel chuckles low under his breath. “He’d be right.”

Through your sudden shared laughter, your knuckles brush.

It’s nothing, but it feels like so much.

As you approach your houses, Joel turns to you.

“Do you need anything?” you ask him gently. “I can stop by later if you need some pain meds or anything? Or yell at you for not resting up at home like you should.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head. “Always lookin’ for a reason to yell at me, huh?”

“Only ‘cause you keep givin’ me so many,” you tease.

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes scanning your face in the too quiet dark.

“You stayed the whole night,” he says finally, like he’s been holding it in for a while.

“I told Tommy I wouldn’t leave until you woke up.”

Joel nods once. He shifts his weight on the cane, hesitating just slightly, before adding, “I heard you—talkin’ to me.”

“You did?” you ask, your voice quiet. “Well, that’s…embarrassing.”

Joel’s gaze drops to your hand lingering close to his—he hadn’t even realized he’d reached out until it was too late, his hand dwarfing your own in a gentle hold of your fingertips. 

It’s a small touch, but it grounds him.

You flinch slightly at the touch, feeling the heaviness of the moment

“You can let go,” he says, looking back up at you.

You smile faintly. “I don’t want to.”

Joel hums thoughtfully. “Seems I don’t want to either,”

And in that soft hum between houses, under the stars beginning to peek through the roaming clouds overhead, Joel leans in, his cane shifting a few inches behind you as he leans his weight into it to reach you, his lips pressing against yours in a quiet, tender moment of vulnerability under the dim street lights.

“Never got to thank you properly,” Joel admits.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” you ask curiously.

“Can be,” Joel responds mischievously, a smirk tugging at his lips as you pull back to look at him.

“I think you can do better,” you challenge him, nose brushing against his own.

“You’re damn right,” he agrees, using his free hand to curve around the back of your neck as he pulls you in, stealing your breath away with the second press of his lips.

When he parts, you can’t help but giggle against him, an indescribable feeling tightening your chest.

“Yeah…that’s—” You breath stutters as you nod, “that’ll do.”

Joel chuckles softly, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“Good, ‘cause I got a lot of thankin’ to make up for.”

[kiss4tell]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓, john price.

summary: john was proud to show off his younger wife at the military ball—until he caught too many wandering eyes on what belonged to him. cw: jealous/possessive sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, manhandling, clothed sex, explicit language, established relationship. wc: 615 note: gonna start revamping my profile and making a better masterlist soon :3

John should’ve known better than to bring you here looking like that—his pretty little wife, younger, softer than the stiff-ass officers and their cold wives. You were stunning, wrapped up all sweet in that dress he picked out for you, hair done just the way he liked, lipstick making your pout look all the more kissable.

His girl. His fucking wife. And they had the nerve to look at you like you were something they could have.

It was supposed to be a nice night. Dinner, drinks, a few conversations with old colleagues. But all he could focus on were the hungry stares, the way those bastards eyed you from across the ballroom, the way one of them even had the fucking nerve to touch your arm when he walked by.

You weren’t doing anything wrong—just standing at his side, smiling, being your sweet, polite self. But it didn’t matter. He needed to remind you, remind them, who you belonged to.

That’s how you ended up here, in the damn parking lot, shoved into the backseat of his car, your cheek pressed against the cool leather as he fucked you hard enough to shake the whole vehicle.

“Wanted to fuckin’ show you off,” he growled, voice a low rasp, his uniform still perfectly in place, save for his belt hanging loose and his cock buried deep inside you. “And you—” His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you steady as he drove into you again. Deeper. “You just had to be a fuckin’ doll, didn’t you? Smilin’ at ‘em, lookin’ so goddamn sweet—”

“J-John—” Your voice was a breathy gasp, your fingers dragging against the fogged-up window as he yanked you back onto his cock, his thick length sliding against the mess he’d already made of you.

“What?” he snapped, yanking your dress higher up your back, watching the way your ass jiggled with every deep, punishing thrust. Fuck, he loved that. “Somethin’ you need, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, arching back against him, hips rolling, meeting each stroke like you needed it just as much as he did.

“That’s right,” he murmured, one hand leaving your hip to press firm against your lower belly, right there, where he could feel the way he stretched you. “This cock’s yours. No one else. And this—” His palm slid lower, fingers dipping between your thighs, rubbing messy, desperate circles against your swollen clit. “This mine, yeah?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, rough and possessive, as he watched your legs tremble, your body squeezing down around him.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerous, something devoted. “Show me.”

You shattered around him with a cry, your entire body clenching, spasming as he fucked you through it, your thighs sticky with the mess of it.

“Christ,” he groaned, hips stuttering, his grip bruising as he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a low, wrecked moan.

The only sounds left were the ragged breaths filling the small space, the occasional creak of leather as he slumped over you, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then, a slow, satisfied chuckle rumbled against your shoulder.

“Still think bringin’ me here was a good idea?” you mumbled, voice breathless, teasing.

John smirked, smoothing a warm palm over your ass before tugging your dress back down, adjusting his belt with one hand while the other traced slow, affectionate circles against your thigh.

“Maybe,” he mused, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Long as you keep your pretty ass in my lap the rest of the night.”

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 3 (final)

pt. 1, pt. 2

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: anddd we’re on the final! I hope you guys enjoyed this little fic I wrote. it’s my first ever fic writing for sevika and I originally posted this on ao3 but thought I’d bring it here to tumblr as well <3

you can check out the fic playlist here.

you need to get the hell out of here.

you were becoming a problem and sevika doesn’t know how much more she can take until she starts losing her mind. you were loud, reckless, inconsiderate, had a questionable way of dressing yourself (who the fuck wears fishnet stockings and skirts in this weather?) and most importantly-

you were way too fucking young for her to be thinking about you like this.

lewd, pervasive thoughts crept into the back of sevika’s mind shortly after you caught her gawking at you. she wanted the ground to swallow her whole, not only because she has to explain to you why you caught her eyeing you like a raw piece of meat, but also because she had to sit down and reflect why seeing you in that state - naked, alone and oh so, vulnerable - caused her heartbeat to quicken.

she tossed and turned on her bed unable to sleep, visions of your skin and how soft it looked plagued her thoughts. the small curve of your spine while you stared at yourself in the mirror, acting all timid which was a juxtaposition to your usual bold behavior.

sevika bit her lip at the thought. maybe there were layers to you she didn’t know about yet - layers she’d have to admit she wanted to unravel piece by piece.

perhaps underneath the confident persona you put up, hid a needy and bratty girl who just compensated for the lack of attention she got by being loud and intolerable. that should explain it.

why every time sevika didn’t pay you any mind you insisted on pushing her buttons just to get a reaction. how you clearly reveled in being told no and disobeying.

it annoyed the shit out of her and she’s imagined many times putting you in your place, and how the only thing up for debate was her method of doing so.

when she let her mind linger on the idea, all she could think about was how she could bring out that same shyness she saw in you earlier. maybe if she pushed you hard enough she could do it.

push you down onto your knees rather while gripping your hair. tight enough that it’ll cause your eyes to water, pleading with her that you won’t disobey her again after being such a goddamn headache.

she can picture it now. slipping a thumb into that annoying mouth of yours so she can shut you up while you suck on it, feeling you drool by the corners as you let your tongue swirl languidly around the thick digit, imagining just how better it’d feel if it was her strap buried deep into your throat while she pushed it in and out of your warm mouth until you found it difficult to breathe. maybe then you’d learn to behave.

sevika’s throat bobbed as she envisioned throwing you harshly onto her bed, legs spread while you looked up at her with glossy eyes. she found herself unbuckling the belt around her hips, thoughts of you swimming in the darkest corners of her mind while she pulled her pants down until it bunched up around her feet and she snaked a hand down into her boxers.

feeling just how wet she’d gotten imagining you writhing on her sheets, soft sighs and pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth while she’d plunge two to three fingers in and out of your tight hole.

then she’ll push you by the arch of your back and your thighs will grow moist by the abundance of slick she’ll coax out of you. sevika lets out a groan as she rubbed circles onto her clit, visions of your naked form taped onto the back of her eyelids while she slipped a finger in and gave her poor pussy its needed stimulation.

the rhythm of her touch started slow and her eyes fluttered shut - thinking about getting on all fours and gripping the meat of your thighs while she ate you out. doing it at her own pace and teasing you until you start whining, demanding she go faster but it’s not like you deserve it, do you? after how you’ve been acting.

how she’ll lap you up with her tongue and take her time with you like you’re a meal needing to be savored. god, just imagining how you would taste drove her insane.

her chest began to rise and fall as images of your fucked out face came to mind - with tears streaming down your cheeks while you babble out incoherent nonsense. telling her to go harder, faster, to handle you in whichever way she likes.

the pace of her fingers quickened, and the slow build-up of a climax started to unfurl deep in her abdomen, feeling the throes of her pleasure soar as she became just as desperate as you were in the sick little fantasy she conjured up in her head.

how after she’s finished eating you out she’ll pull out her strap and slide it into your needy cunt, watching you beg for it while little cries of pleasure slip past your lips.

a litany of promises of how you’ll be good. that you won’t disobey her again and that you’ll do better than to talk back and test her patience, and how she’ll reward you with every harsh snap of her hips until the tip of her strap reaches so far into your insides that all you see is white.

how your nails will claw down her back and leave a trail of scratches that’ll sting so good. with that, she felt something in her snap as her orgasm consumed her.

moaning loudly, sevika felt herself leak down onto her sheets. surprising even herself at just how much came out of her, at how much the thought of you alone immobilized her, she could barely feel her limbs as exhaustion slowly overtook her. she couldn’t even find it in herself to feel ashamed about what she’s done before she fell asleep.

but little did she know, that right across her window and into your bedroom, was you writhing just as pathetically on your bed while you drew orgasm after orgasm out of your pussy. trying to repress the noises you so desperately wanted to let out in case your father would hear. you pushed in and out the lengthy dildo in your sopping cunt, your cum coating it to the hilt as your body shook.

meanwhile, sevika’s name tingled just at the tip of your tongue.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

she couldn’t bear to look at your father in the eyes after that.

she felt guilty, so fucking guilty because here your old man was being nice to her and what does she do? act like a creep around his daughter and fantasize about fucking you into her mattress?

it was shameful but it’s not like she could push it down and ignore it. until now she still hasn’t been able to. too caught up in how she’s been obsessing over you since. she knew her agitation towards you stemmed from genuine annoyance, but she’s speculated there was more it than that.

how you’ve vexed her without even knowing it. sevika may be in denial but she wasn’t a liar. she’s caught herself many times in the past eyeing you way too long. how some of your clothes were way too short and revealed slithers of skin so intimate it made the insides of her mouth dry up.

how she’d watch you from her porch while you sun bathed on your front lawn. nothing but a thin bikini on as on-lookers, mainly boys around your age, stopped to stare as she glowered at them until they ran off. she wanted to justify it thinking she just wanted to do good by your father, but by the way she’d continue to let her gaze linger on the deep plunges of your cleavage she realized she was full of shit and wasn’t any better.

still, it was wrong and so she avoided you. even when you continued to litter on her yard and blast your annoying music, she ignored it and didn’t waste any time confronting you or telling you to keep it down.

you knew the reason for it too. you weren’t stupid. it irked you beyond belief because it’s not like it was a big fucking deal? she caught you half naked, so what? now here she was acting like you’re a deadly virus she needed to avoid. truth be told, as much as the two of you got under each other’s skin, seeing that exasperated look on her face as she took the trash out and heard your alternative pop rock music blasting loudly from your room made your day.

plus you’d never admit it, but you’ve noticed the way she’s stared at you. even though her actions spoke otherwise you couldn’t ignore the tension between you and how that only got amplified by how she’d get up in your face and tell you to fuck off.

you found enjoyment in it, and now she’s not doing it anymore. you hated to feel this way but it almost made you feel unwanted.

so much so that you didn’t even bother blasting your speakers anymore, which made sevika curious but decided to brush it off while she continued fixing her car engine outside her house, oil and grease lathered onto her forearms as she positioned herself beneath the vehicle, giving you a good view of her muscles and the way her abs rippled underneath her shirt.

she was annoying but dear god, was she hot.

you couldn’t stand it.

you walked closer to where she laid on the ground, covering the streaks of sun that bounced off her glistening brown skin and she wondered about the silhouette that suddenly casted itself over her. she then pushed herself from beneath the car only to be met with the sight of you, ever so curious.

“I need to borrow a screwdriver,” you said with your arms clasped behind your back, staring down at her expectantly.

sevika took a moment to process your request before she let out a scoff, resuming her task and you frowned at her ambivalence “fuck off, princess.”

“I mean it,”

“yeah sure, and let’s all just act like the tools mounted on your dad’s garage isn’t there but somehow my tiny tool box is more of use to you.” she quipped back. she’s been invited there before when your father asked her for help to fix his generator.

you huffed “his screwdriver is uh… dull now.”

“and you’ve become less insufferable. see? we can all lie. now scram.”

you wanted to throw that tool box on her head. why was she being so stubborn and ignoring you? you hated it but you refused to back down, even when she continued fixing her car and not paying you any mind.

“I told you, I’m not-“

“why haven’t you been paying me any attention lately?”

sevika blinked slowly at your question. it was so meek too, the way you asked it, so out of character from the way you normally presented yourself. she pulled herself from underneath the vehicle again just to see you watching her with an almost puppy eyed look on your face.

she sighed. god, what are you doing now?

“I never pay attention to you.”

“we both know that’s not true.”

“I only pay attention to you just to tell you to quit being annoying. I promise you that’s not the kind of attention you should be worried that I’m no longer giving to you.”

‘we’ll, it’s better than nothing’ you thought but kept it to yourself, intending to be more straightforward instead.

“is this because of what happened a few days ago? when I caught you staring at me from my window?”

sevika didn’t expect you to bring it up, so to say she was caught off guard would be an understatement “that’s not-“

“it is, isn’t it?” you chuckled “grow up. it’s not like it was a big deal. plus I could tell you liked it.”

a deep blush painted over sevika’s face and you liked that your words got to her. she began to stand up from where she laid on the ground and hovered over you, her jaw clenched and visibly irked.

“I’m telling you this now. quit it or else.” she warned and your eyes darted to her lips.

you took that as a challenge “or what?” you stepped closer, tip toeing ever so slightly that your nose almost brushed against hers.

sevika couldn’t believe this. what’s gotten into you? but she should’ve seen this coming. she knew you did everything that you did because you wanted attention, craved it. and based on how desperate you looked right now, she was tempted to set you straight and give you what you wanted.

to grab you by the waist and bend you over the hood of her car and take you right ther-

she shook her head, stepping away as you looked at her like a wounded animal at the loss of proximity.

fuck. this girl is gonna be the death of me.

“go home. I don’t have time for your bullshit.” sevika snapped, picking up her tool box and walking back inside her garage. she then watched as you stood there, a pout on your face and your eyebrows furrowed before you glared at her, stomping back to your house and she slammed the garage door shut.

this is bad. so fucking bad.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

two weeks.

two more weeks before you head back to college and sevika couldn’t be any more grateful.

because thank fucking god she didn’t have to deal with you anymore. not that she had to ever since your little moment with her while she was fixing her car. everything seemed to stop after that. the music, the pestering, all of it.

while she was relieved you were out of her hair, she couldn’t deny that a part of her felt almost restless since you stopped bothering her. coupled with the news that she no longer had to see you for god knows how long. it was overwhelming, but still. it was for the best.

she still talked to your father now and then and was recently asked if she could watch over you while he goes out of town to tend to your grandmother who had recently fallen ill. nothing too serious. but because she only lived alone of course your father was quick to pack his bags for the next three days to go check up on her. so she agreed.

not that she was going to come over, babysit you or anything. she just had to watch over the house and see if you’d go out late and to inform him of any suspicious happenings while he’s gone.

on the day that he left, sevika watched from her front door when you bid him farewell. giving him a long hug before he got into his car and drove off.

leaving you two to meet each other’s eye again and you simply brushed her off, slamming your door shut once you were inside. no commotion from you after that, nothing.

one could say she liked the silence, but it unsettled her. maybe you just got her so used to your chaotic nature these past couple of weeks the absence of it felt disorienting. yeah, that’s the only explanation for it.

she wanted to chalk it up and think that in a matter of days everything will blow over. plus her boss had informed her the renovation will be done soon so she needed the peace and quiet now more than ever, and for a moment she really thought she had it.

until she heard it again.

but this time much louder.

she had just fallen asleep on her couch and it was nearing 8pm when the sounds of a crowd outside jolted her out of her slumber. she rubbed her eyes and looked around to see where all the noise was coming from, and when she peeked through her blinds she couldn’t believe it.

your house open to a line of people, some she recognized to be the firelights and others she couldn’t even identify, coming in and out of your house as the same overpowering music blared from your living room - so loud she could feel the shockwaves bounce through her walls.

you were ridiculous. so fucking ridiculous and she should’ve known better than to think you learned your lesson.

without a moment of hesitation she got up from her couch and marched her way to your house, pushing past the bodies of intoxicated twenty something year olds grinding against one another. neon green lights illuminated through the windows of your home and red solo caps were scattered across the grass your father worked so hard to trim.

she was angry because while you were here throwing a fucking party, he was out of town looking after your sick grandmother.

you’re unbelievable. so fucking unbelievable.

she noticed many familiar faces when she pushed through the sea of people dancing in your living room, but one she was quick to pluck out from the crowd was a girl whose bright blue hair couldn’t be missed even from a mile ahead.

she made her way towards her, forced her to turn around by her shoulder and powder looked up, confused before she registered sevika’s face.

“sevika?” she yelled through the bustling sound of techno music “what are you doing here?”

“where is she?” she didn’t have to clarify who because powder immediately knew who sevika was referring to.

“she’s throwing a party before she goes back to college. can you please just lay off her and-“

“I don’t fucking care. she’s caused enough trouble as it is.” she snapped, making powder take a step back and before she could even reason with the distressed older woman, was when you finally appeared.

scurrying through the crowd in a tight, strapless mini dress that reached below your thighs, the material hugging your body in all the right places and while sevika would’ve loved to take her time to look at you, she wasn’t in the mood.

your eyes widened when you saw each other, but then your expression quickly turned sour and you crossed your arms over your chest “what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice clipped.

her nostrils flared as she straightened her posture and towered over you, her height overwhelming in the already cramped space.

“I already told you to quit this bullshit. but of course you never listen. your father is out of town and you pull this nonsense?” she barked and you can only laugh in response.

“what? you think just because my dad is not here you have full authority over me? fuck off, sevika.” you spat, a stubbornness in your tone that didn’t allow any room for arguments.

but sevika fought harder.

she balled her fists, looked around and saw the empty bottle of hennessy on the table near her. your eyebrows knitted together when you watched her take it, raise it in the air and slam it onto the edge of the table, causing everyone around you to stop and stare as the music paused.

you couldn’t believe what she had just done as she glowered at the many faces in the room, a mixture of both scared and perplexed at the sight of her.

“everyone. out!” she yelled, her voice echoing like a clap of thunder bolt.

everyone got up and fled as fast as they could. meanwhile, you stood there frozen, shocked at just how easily she was able to ruin your night as the last person got out of the room until it was only the two of you left.

the room was simply crickets and your bottom lip wobbled, a sob threatening to spill out “what the fuck is your problem?” you cried out. sevika couldn’t help but chuckle at your pathetic display of frustration. you looked like you wanted to tear her apart.

“do you have any idea the commotion you could’ve caused? your dad works at the town’s office and if any of the neighbors got fed up with you and decided to call the deputy to file a complaint, how do you think this will look for him? you’ll be leaving in two weeks and won’t be the one facing the repercussions of your actions. but he will.”

your shoulders sagged at the realization. perhaps the thought of you leaving your dad again got you so tangled up in your emotions you couldn’t think clearly, coupled with the unresolved tension between you and sevika. everything had become too much to bear. you wanted a moment away from it all.

“I didn’t think-“

“yeah, that’s the problem with you. you don’t think.” she growled and your mouth fell open at her words.

that’s when you felt it - the fiery hot rage that culminated inside of you these past couple of days after being ignored by her. truth be told, a huge part of the reason behind all of this was because you needed a way to grab her attention again. but with the way she was speaking to you now you’re beginning to doubt if you still want it.

“I don’t need you to talk to me like I’m a child.” you hissed and she grinned.

she walked towards you and bent her head slightly so she was eye level with you - her hot breath fanning against your lips.

“then stop fucking acting like one.” she bit back, noticing the way your breathing became shallow.

“you’re so obnoxious, you know that? you’re so deprived of attention and what do you do? you act like a brat. always so loud with your horrible music and skimpy clothes, walking around like you need the attention so badly you’re almost thirsty for it.” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous octave and you only looked at her, wide eyed “what do you get out of it, huh? annoying me so fucking much?”

you were unable to speak. at loss for words while your gaze darted from her eyes down to her full lips that was formed in a subtle snarl.

you were silent before your mouth twitched into a smirk “I like the way you get mad at me.” you purred, clutching her shirt and tugging her towards you “it turns me on.”

sevika didn’t have time to process what was happening when you smashed your lips on hers. the kiss searing, hot and heavy. all teeth and desperation and clawing onto each other, the outcome of the built up tension between you two ever since you arrived.

her hands pawed at your hips, leaving deep crescents on their journey down to your thighs and she harshly gripped the plush skin with her blunt nails. making you squeal and she lifted you up while you circled your legs around her waist.

she tore her mouth away from yours and proceeded to pepper kisses down your throat, a broken moan leaving your lips at the feeling of her sucking on the sensitive area below your ear. sure to leave hickeys once she’s done while she leveled her eyes with yours with a predatory look.

“this is just what you wanted, huh?” she huffed and you nodded your head.

“sevika, please…”

“please what?” she taunted with a nasty grin on her stupid, beautiful face “what do you want me to do, princess?”

you bit your bottom lip while a tear fell from the corner of your eye and dear god, she didn’t expect it’d ever come to this. all those nights imagining what you’d look like under her and here you were, so pliant and needy for her touch.

you snaked your arms around her neck and pulled her closer “you know what I want,” you whined with a pout, which amused her even more.

“nah. that’s not enough, baby. want to hear you say it. come on.” you gasped at the feeling of her callous fingers trailing softly inside your thighs, leaving feather like touches that left goosebumps on your skin.

“sevika, please.” you cried out, trying to grind on her hand and it only made her pull it away.

“say it, you little brat. come on.” she pressed once more and you groaned.

“please fuck me.” you mumbled and she lets out a tsk at your tone.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

your jaw clenched and you tugged at the fabric of her top “I said please fuck me!” you demanded “sevika, I swear-“

that was all she needed. she didn’t intend on teasing you further when she herself wanted this just as much as you did. maybe even more.

the next thing you knew she placed you onto the table, took her arm, used it to slide everything that was on top and threw it all onto the ground. adjusting you properly onto the wooden surface before crouching down so she could be near your crotch.

your breath hitched when she bunched up the bottom of dress so she could see the lace panties you wore, whistling at the sight as your cheeks warmed “take a look at this.”

before you could make a snide remark, your head fell back when she suddenly dug her nose at your clothed heat, moaning when she kissed the area and sucked. hard.

“sevika… oh my god.” you whined helplessly when she continued licking through your panties, biting the inside of your thighs and leaving little love marks as your body shivered.

the sound of fabric tearing snapped you out of your euphoric state and you looked down to see she practically ripped your underwear in two “why the fuck would you-“

“shut up. I’ll get you another one.“ she grumbled, holding your hips tightly.

“but those were expensive, you asshol!-“

your words died in your throat when she licked a fat stripe onto your pussy with her hot, wet tongue. making you cry when she lapped your juices like a woman starved.

“you’re so fucking soaked...” she groaned, vibrations shooting up your spine and you clenched at the way her tongue drew circles around your clit to all of a sudden deep thrusts with the muscle. you shamelessly rode her face as your slick dripped from her mouth down to her chin.

she pulled back and quickly collected spit in her mouth just to shoot it down your puffy cunt, watching the way her saliva moved down to your folds and she lets out a shaky breath “such a pretty fucking pussy.” she rasped, lapping at it harshly.

you arched your back and gripped the edge of the table so hard you swore that your knuckles turned white. with her pupils blown wide you felt like were being feasted upon as she continued making harsh sucks onto your bud, feeling your orgasm approaching and you started squirming in her hold.

“I’m so close, sev…” you whimpered and her tongue darted further while you felt one of her fingers prod your entrance before she slipped it in, a choked sob leaving your mouth at the stretch when she pushed it in and out at a maddening pace before adding another finger in.

you swore you almost saw stars explode behind your eyelids at the way she fucked you with her fingers, starting off gentle before she began ramming them into you at a brutal pace. so much so that your body rocked back and forth against the table.

“s-sev, please! please! fuck!” your cries were borderline pornographic as she continued pounding into you “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“ your words came to a screeching halt as white, hot blinding pleasure took over your body in harsh tremors.

you cried loudly and gripped her hair but she didn’t let up, slurping up your juices while she bent her fingers to piston them into your tight walls you could only thrash in her grip due to the overstimulation “s-sev… too m-much.”

“this is what you needed right? to have the attitude fucked outta you?” she chuckled before giving your clit one last kiss.

watching the way your pussy gaped before she started sliding her sweats down, her chiseled abs and prominent V line coming into view and you licked the top of your lips when she pulled her shirt over head, leaving her in nothing but her sports bra.

she took your dress and pulled it down until you were left bare naked as well. then she scooped you up in her arms and placed you onto the carpeted floor.

she leaned down, placed a languid kiss onto your lips and you cupped her face in your hands as you moaned softly.

she then slotted your legs together so her clit touched yours. it was swollen and red due to not getting her fill yet and she groaned at the feeling of your wetness grinding against hers. humping you like an animal in heat.

“that’s right. f-fuck. cum for me. cum for me one last time while I shoot my load onto this pretty fucking pussy.” she huffed while your eyes moved to watch the scene below you and your jaw went slack at the way your clits dragged against one another. your slick meshing with hers and the residue of saliva that she left when she was eating you out.

you felt the coil in your stomach tighten one last time and you swore you were about to pass out “I’m gonna c-cum again, sev. oh my god.”

“cum for me. cum again for me, baby. come on.” she panted while the sounds of skin slapping resonated through the small space of your kitchen, making you wail out while your tits bounced at the the violent way her hips snapped at the bottom of your thighs.

you came the second time that night, body trembling so hard you simply went limp and sevika continued using your body to get off.

she followed you shortly after, grunting as her hands gripped your hips so tightly you were certain it’ll leave bruises.

she was breathing heavily, squeezing your sides before she dipped her head down to kiss you.

you hummed at the display of affection and she pulled back once both of you found it hard to breathe.

“that was…” she muttered and you giggled.

you peppered kisses up her jaw and smiled “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to have breakfast on that table the same way again.” you said which sevika could only laugh at, shaking her head as she palmed your cheek.

“god,” she looked at you with amused eyes as you nuzzled against her touch “you really are something aren’t you, princess?”

[k-ast]

frank castle when you flinch in an argument

frank castle x reader

sfw, angst, cursing, reader has been hurt in prev relationships bc thats somehow a recurring theme on this blog

a/n: friends it is 2:46am we are so back this is not proofread help. also i feel like any argument w frank starts bc he was worried

frank was protective. duh. you could tell when you met him that he has been through hell and back. could tell that he's a man that needs, constantly needs, to know you are okay.

the first time you came home from work later than expected, early on in your relationship, he had been so relieved that he couldn't bring himself to scold you.

he is still worried about you always, even after dropping you off at work, sending you a text for you to see when you have a break, and picking you up on time, every time, without fail.

so obviously, the second time your phone dies and you have to work overtime, he slowly starts to panic. again. worse than the first time.

frank tries not to think about you not answering his check-in message. you were probably busy. probably being the overachiever you are while helping everybody around you, and who was he to blame you? he sends another text just in case.

you were safe, right?

he calls over and over to ask what time he should expect an "i'm done! <3" text.

when you aren't picking up, frank laces his boots at top speed, gun already tucked in his belt, and he reaches for the door, set on finding you and bringing you home no matter the circumstance.

the door flies open suddenly, and his heartbeat stutters for half a second.

there you stand, holding everything all at once, clearly having bolted from the metro back to the apartment.

"frank i'm so sorry," you quickly say as you drop all your things on the kitchen counter. "i was-"

you're interrupted by frank shutting the door so forcefully the frame rattles, your explanation trailing off. he paces in the living room for a few silent seconds, hands on his hips, jaw clenched.

you try again, finding the courage to step forward, "frank, i'm sor-"

"why didn't you call, huh?!"

the repeated cutoffs start to make you feel like you should just shut your mouth until prompted.

"check your goddamn phone!" frank continues shouting, pointing at the counter vigorously. "count how many times i called you! you didn't see a single one of them?! not a single damn one?!"

"my phone died," you say meekly, beginning to pick at your nails.

you knew about him being the punisher. you start to think, maybe you should've expected harsher behavior since the beginning. special treatment wouldn't last long anyway, it never did.

but it still wasn't like him to raise his voice, or slam doors, or use any rhetorical tone at you. frank was always so sweet and attentive to you, full of feather touches. considerate of every movement he makes, always wary of his strength.

but in this moment, he's driving the argument home with his entire body, arms flying wide as he continues, "couldn't find a single plug in the building, is that it? is that fucking it?!"

"well, i-" you try to hide the sniffle that automatically comes when someone yells at you.

"i was preoccupied," you say, soft voice filling the room. "frank, i'm really, really sorry." you just never really expected that someone to ever be frank castle, your frank castle.

"yeah," he rubs his nose, turning back and forth. "yeah." and just when you start to feel relief that his volume is quieting, he turns suddenly and raises his voice again.

"well, you damn should be! do you have any idea what radio silence feels like to someone like me? it's fucking terrifying, that's what it is!"

and when his hands go over your head in a furious motion, your instincts get the best of you. your shoulders shrink as you turn your head away, bracing for impact.

part of you begins to wonder if you'd have to dodge. what were you supposed to do against the fucking punisher? you tune out his ranting with your own loud, drowning thoughts.

it's only when he does the movement a second time that he notices you even flinched. he notices your shallow breathing, glassy eyes, and fast blinks.

frank goes silent, mouth still open. he takes a second to register what happened, why it happened, but when he finally does, his reaction is back to the same frank castle you always knew.

he murmurs, "shit, shit, shit," over and over, hesitating at first to put his hands on your hunched shoulders.

you jump slightly at contact, about to apologize profusely for missing everything he had said previously. but apologies tumble out of his mouth first.

"hey, hey hey hey, look sweetheart, i'm so sorry, okay? i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to- to raise my voice and get so physical, alright?

"i wouldn't ever, ever hit you, okay? i'm not like that, yn, promise. i ain't like whoever's hurt you before, okay? i'm not like those fucking monsters, okay? 'm sorry."

he rubs circles on your back with one hand, the other cupping your cheek. "i didn't- i was just so scared, okay? i'm so sorry, sweetheart, so sorry, don't mean to scare you, never meant to. shit, i'm sorry."

you mumble weakly, "i'm sorry too. should've checked my phone, frank. i'll call you next time i swear, i swear i'll remember."

"it's alright. it's alright. fuck, are we okay?" when you nod hurriedly, he repeats, "okay, we're okay. we're okay. don't cry, baby, please don't cry."

frank kisses the crown of your head, moves the hand on your back into your hair. his thumb is restless, making repetitive brushing movements over and over. puts his forehead against yours.

"you've gotta be hungry, sweetheart, i'll order something." he tilts your chin up, kisses your cheeks to catch your falling tears.

"you wanna eat and watch a movie or something, sweetheart?"

there is a little voice in your head fighting your body's exhaustion, saying if you don't say yes, frank's gonna be mad. just say yes. it's all your fault anyway.

so you whisper a wavering, "okay," hoping he doesn't catch the tremble in your voice or the droplets hanging off your lashes.

but he notices. so in a desperate attempt to put you at ease, he says, "you don't have to, sweetheart, you really don't."

not quite knowing what he wants, you just slowly say, "i'm think i'm gonna to go to bed. i'm sorry, again, frank."

"'s okay." he lets you untangle yourself from his arms, wiping your tears quickly. he's left standing in the living room, calling to you before the door shuts, "hey, i'll join you in just a bit, okay?"

you wake up the next morning wrapped in frank's arms like a butterfly in a cocoon. you're pretty sure you fell asleep back to back, but somehow you found your way to each other in unconsciousness.

it was quiet and soothing, listening to each other's heartbeats. just two people trying their best.

a/n: its 4:53 am goodbye hope you enjoyed!

[mcondance]

Smoke with barely legal virgin reader who he makes ride them for their first time since they “wanted to be grown” and “was talking all that slick shit at the juke joint”

don’t hate me but i feel like this is more elias than elijah sorry friend tw big ass age gap, reader is quite literally freshly 18 so talks of that, elias is a nasty man, reader is a virgin, uses of “girl”, written in a southern accent

oh my god yeah.

just turned 18 a little less than 3 months ago, can still smell the milk on your breath when he’s close enough. can still see that sparkle in your eyes, the same sparkle you look at him with when you’re talking shit that gets his dick hard and so obviously trying to make yourself look older than you are.

elias can see through it all. with those wild eyes, he can see straight through that silky little dress and right on through to your body underneath it, the body you slink over the counter top in a vain attempt to gain his attention.

unfortunately, fortunately, for you, elias has never been the twin to make the rational decisions.

“she a baby,” smoke tells him, ducked off in the corner the day elias starts to give in, but elias is chewing on a toothpick imagining what he could do to you.

“shit,” he starts, “that girl know what she wan’. can’t give her nothin’ she ain’ been askin’ fa’.”

“gon’ give that girl what she askin’ for and see how that work ou’.”

elias ain’t never listened to his brother when it came to women, and he don’t plan on starting now. not when you ‘bout the easiest lil’ thing he’s seen in a long time.

he don’t know how it happened and you don’t either, but someway you end up at the little place he bought with straight cash, that little green dress he’s had the eyes for decorating the body he’s soon to have his way with.

he isn’t your first kiss, but he’s your first kiss like this. he don’t care that you haven’t been touched, he don’t care that the way he’s kissing you and licking into your mouth is definitely too much for a virgin like you, he don’t even care that you’re obviously overwhelmed and biting off more than you can chew.

he loves this shit.

he don’t respect you enough to take your clothes off, and he damn sure don’t respect you enough to even lead you to his bed. right on the couch is how he’s gonna take it from you, thighs spread under you while you grind on him and think to yourself about just how you’re gonna take all of it.

“ay, girl, get this up,” he slurs against your lips, pulling at your dress before he reaches for his belt buckle. desperate and willing, you meet him there and help him loosen his belt and then you’re reaching into his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. overzealous little thing, excited, eyes bigger than your cunt.

“you grown, girl?” he asks, rubbing himself through your oh-so abundant wetness, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, golds shinin’ like his blown eyes. you nod, whining as you feel his tip glide against you like cold whiskey down your throat. “yeah?”

you feel grown right now. grown as hell. growner than you’ve ever felt before.

“lemme see how grown you is, then. baby talkin’ all tha’ slick shit at the joint, lemme put that money where that mouth is.”

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. but stack’s so fine and it’s now or never, you can’t go back on your word after all you said and done. you wouldn’t go back even if you wanted to. you ain’t letting this go.

elias fucks you like you’ve been takin’ dick for years. hands wrapped around you, big hand pressed to the middle of your back, he stuffs you full and has you choking on your words, has your thoughts jumbling and folding in on each other. green fabric slips down your shoulders and leaves your whole chest bare for his disgusting eyes.

elias feels powerful, and vile all the same. goddamn cradle robber and he don’t feel nothing but pride and power.

“you just a baby, girl, don’ know nothing. but i’ll teach ya’. i’ll teach you good, girl. learn you everythang you wanna know.”

[b1eedthefreak]

HI!! I was wondering if you could write this Daryl x reader fic? It's basically like how Maggie and Glenn got caught in the guard tower in season 3 but it'll be Daryl and the reader getting caught in the infirmary of the prison. The others were looking for them so they could go on a run or something and Daryl peeks out the door wearing his vest without a shirt and his pants are unbuckled while the reader is frantically trying to get dressed in the background. IF THAT MAKES SENSE. (it's my first time writing a request so sorry if it doesn't make sense 😭 Love your work btw)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. You Coming?

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: you and daryl sneak off to the infirmary when it’s empty for some privacy, until you get interrupted

⌇warnings: little smut in the beginning, then the rest is just fluff

⌇word count: 0.6k

a/n HII LOVELYYY :3 it made perfect sense and i LOVED THIS I LOVED WRITING THIS MWAH ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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They were supposed to be getting ready for a run. That was the plan.

But the second Daryl had seen you in that tank top, as you leaned over a map with your back arched and those little shorts riding up your thighs…well. The plan changed.

And that’s how you ended up in the infirmary, legs wrapped tight around his waist, back arching off the cot as Daryl Dixon drove himself into you slow and deep, hand over your mouth to muffle every moan you couldn’t hold back.

“Shh, baby,” he panted against your ear, hips grinding deep with each stroke, his voice low and frayed. “Don’t want ‘em hearin’ you, yeah?”

You whimpered beneath his palm, eyes fluttering shut, thighs trembling as he rolled his hips again. So slow, so heavy, filling you up over and over until you couldn’t think of anything but the feel of him inside you.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, sweat dripping down his temple as he braced one hand beside your head, the other still gently covering your mouth. “Takin’ me so damn well sweet girl. Keep squeezin’ me like that and I ain’t gonna last.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails dragging down his back, and he hissed through his teeth before dipping his head to kiss your jaw, your neck, your chest, anywhere he could reach without pulling out.

The cot creaked under your bodies, the sound making you tense, and Daryl kissed your cheek softly. “It’s alright,” he whispered, rocking into you with a low grunt. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in.”

Famous last words.

Because just as his pace picked up, just as your breath hitched and you started shaking from the pressure curling deep in your belly, a voice rang out in the hallway.

“Daryl?” Glenn. “You in there, man?”

Your eyes flew wide. You shoved at his chest in panic, but he just blinked at you, stunned mid thrust like a deer caught in headlights.

“No,” he muttered, already pulling out and fumbling for his jeans. “No no no—fuck—goddamn it.”

You scrambled to sit up, your legs still shaking, your shirt halfway on and your underwear nowhere in sight. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” You keep repeating.

Daryl yanked on his pants, not even bothering to button them, and grabbed his vest. “Shit. Where are yer horts?”

“How the fuck should I know?!”

Outside, Rick knocked. “You alright in there?”

“Fine!” Daryl shouted, voice way too hoarse to sound convincing. “Jus’… gettin’ medical stuff!”

You dove behind the counter, breathless, hair wild, and glared up at him. “You better sell this.”

He turned toward the door, running a hand through his messy hair as he cracked it open a few inches. His vest hung open over his bare chest, pants unbuttoned, belt loose. He looked a mess.

Rick blinked.

So did Glenn.

Maggie actually coughed.

“Uh,” Daryl grunted. “Y’all need somethin’?”

Glenn gestured. “We’re headin’ out. Thought you were comin’.”

Maggie tilted her head. “Where’s your shirt?”

Daryl shrugged. “It’s hot.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “You alone in there?”

Behind him, something clattered…you, knocking over a tray in your blind panic. “Shitshitshit—”

Maggie leaned around the doorway, peeking past Daryl’s shoulder. “Is that—?”

“Bye,” Daryl said, slamming the door.

Silence. And then, from inside, your tiny voice,

“…they know.”

Daryl rubbed his face and groaned. “Shit.”

You peeked up from behind the counter, cheeks burning. “We’re never gonna live this down.”

He chuckled, still panting a little, and walked over to crouch beside you. “Wanna finish what we started?”

You swatted his arm. “Daryl!”

He grinned, eyes dark and lazy. “Ain’t like we got any dignity left to lose.”

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[autrytonic]

Red head redemption, if you know what I'm saying ;)

Seriously though, I need to give Arthur the SLOPPIEST head and I'm not afraid to admit it. Like absolutely filthy head cause we know this man is disgusting, not clean at all, but I couldn't care less.

Anyways, aside from my filthy thoughts, I hope you're having a wonderful day!! Remember to take care of yourself :3

Voiceless

Author's Note • "Red Head Redemption" has me CACKLING. It also makes me feel disappointed in myself for not thinking of it sooner because damn that was funny 💀 Anywasiez, here is some sloppy toppy for our dear Arthur ;)

18 + / MDNI !! Content below the cut!

The campfire’s burned down to embers, and the low murmur of conversation has dwindled to nothing as most everyone’s turned in for the night.

You slip into Arthur’s tent without a word, and he’s already waiting with his back against the cot, legs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned just enough for you to see the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

His eyes lock on you; dark with a primal need for you.

“Well, look who came crawlin’ in,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “You gonna behave tonight, or you here to get on your knees again?”

You don’t answer. You just sink down in front of him, hands working up the insides of his thighs until he lets out a shaky breath through his nose.

You can see it in his face as he’s trying not to grin too wide. Trying to keep the edge of control. But it’s slipping under your gentle but wanting touch.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he mutters, cupping the back of your head. “You filthy little thing.”

You nod quietly, fingers working his belt open. He lifts his hips just enough to help you pull his pants down, his cock already heavy and twitching with heat. Big, flushed, and glistening at the tip.

“Look at you,” he rasps. “Starin’ like it’s your favorite damn meal.”

You wrap your hand around the base, thick and hot in your palm, and run your tongue slow and flat up the underside. Arthur sucks in a breath between his teeth as his fingers tangle inside your hair.

“Easy now… goddamn…” he mutters, eyes fluttering half-closed. “Don’t tease me, girl. You came here to suck my cock, so do it proper.”

You take him into your mouth, slow at first, letting your lips stretch around him. He hisses, hips jerking, then chuckles low like he can’t help himself.

“Shit. That’s it. Just like that…”

You bob your head, dragging your tongue along every ridge and vein, tasting the salt of his skin, the earthy scent of leather, sweat, and gunsmoke still clinging to him. He fills your mouth more than anyone ever has. Makes your jaw ache in the best way.

He grunts, trying to stay quiet, but you can hear the strain in his voice. “You gonna make me come too fast if you keep lookin’ up at me like that.”

You go deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and he groans in a way so low and deep; barely muffled by his clenched teeth. His hips start to roll, slow and shallow, fucking into your mouth in steady thrusts.

“That’s it, baby… so fuckin’ wet down there,” he pants. “Sloppy little mouth’s makin’ a mess, huh?”

You hum around him, letting spit spill out over your lips, strings of it sliding down your chin, onto your chest.

Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t reach, twisting and slick with your drool. He watches it all, eyes glazed over, lip caught between his teeth.

“Goddamn, you’re filthy,” he mutters, voice tight. “If we weren’t in camp, I’d bend you over and fuck you senseless for that.”

You pull back to breathe, lips swollen and slick, a string of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

You stroke him slow and messy, thumbing over his leaking head before leaning back in and taking him deeper this time; nearly to the base. His thighs tense under your hands.

“Shit. Shit. You want me to fill that throat?” he growls under his breath, voice like gravel. “You better take it, girl. Don’t you dare fuckin’ pull off.”

You moan around him, eyes closing as he takes your mouth like it’s his.

His hand on your head now holds you down, guiding each thrust just enough to make your throat flex around him. You gag a little and he loves that. He groans low, his whole body trembling.

“You hear yourself?” he pants. “Mouth so damn loud, someone’s gonna come peekin’. You want that? Want someone to see you gaggin’ on my cock like a good little whore?”

His thrusts get a little rougher, more desperate. His breath’s coming in short, quiet grunts. You feel the tension snap in his stomach a moment before he growls,

“Fuck—gonna come—take it. Take every drop.”

He holds your head down, hips jerking once, twice—

And then he groans, deep in his chest, cock pulsing as he spills down your throat.

You swallow around him, the warmth of it filling your mouth as you suck him through it, slow and greedy.

When you finally pull off, panting, spit and come still cling to your lips.

Arthur’s eyes are wild as he looks down at you.

“Jesus Christ…” he mutters, wiping your chin with his thumb, then sliding it into your mouth. “Ain’t never seen anything so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans down, pulls you up into his lap, and kisses you in that slow and dirty way, like he doesn’t care what you taste like.

“You keep suckin’ me off like that, and I’m gonna have to marry you,” he smirks against your lips. “But for now… you best sneak back to your bed before I get loud and wake the whole damn camp.”

Taglist • @fxndxm-axg , @photo1030 , @stottlemorgan , @rope-and-ride-me-cowboah ,

[deansbeer]

quick lil thanksgiving soldier boy drabble 🍁

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

WARNING(S). smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | strong language | table sex | pure filth | overstimulation | dom!ben | unprotected sex (pls be responsible & safe yall) | ben throwing his F bombs.

kari talks ◞ there might be a few mistakes from how fast i was typing this while eating lol & some warnings i might've missed. so, do let me know if you see any <3

୨ৎ jackles library.

thanksgiving with ben was quiet, just the way he liked it. no family, no friends, no bullshit—just his girl and a bottle of bourbon on the table. he'd insisted on a small dinner, something simple, and you were happy to oblige. but as you're sitting across from him, laughing softly at one of his sarcastic remarks, you notice the way his gaze lingers on you a little too long, a little too hungry.

"what?" you ask, raising a brow, still mid-bite of your food.

he smirks, leaning back in his chair, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "just thinkin' how fuckin' pretty you look tonight. sittin' there in that little dress like you didn't know what was gonna happen."

you roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat. "ben, it's thanksgiving. can't we just get through dinner for once without you—"

before you can finish, he's already on his feet, rounding the table. you barely have time to react before he grabs you, his large hands sliding under your thighs to lift you out of your chair.

"jesus christ, ben!" you gasp, laughing breathlessly as he sets you down on the dining table, plates clattering as he pushes them aside without a care.

"what?" he mocks you, his voice low, rough, and full of that cocky charm. "can't help it, doll. you're sittin' there lookin' like dessert." his hands are already sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher until it's bunched around your waist.

"ben, the food—"

"fuck the food." his grip tightens as he yanks your panties down your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. "this is what i'm thankful for."

before you can argue, his mouth is on you, hot and wet as his tongue drags through your folds. you suck in a sharp breath, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at it as he buries his face between your thighs. he groans against you, the vibrations making your toes curl as he sucks on your clit, his beard scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"goddamn," he mutters, pulling back just long enough to look up at you, his lips glistening. "you taste s'fuckin' good, baby."

you whimper, your head falling back as his tongue dives back in, licking and teasing until your legs are shaking around his head. but then he growls, low and frustrated, pulling away abruptly.

"fuck this," he mutters, standing up and fumbling with his belt. "these fuckin' pants—" he tugs them down impatiently, his cock springing free, thick and hard and already leaking.

"ben—" you start, but he's already lining himself up, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the table.

"you got somethin' t'say, sweetheart?" he taunts, his smirk widening as he thrusts into you in one smooth stroke, filling you completely. your gasp turns into a moan, your nails digging into his arms as he sets a bruising pace.

"fuck—you feel so good," he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tight you're sure they'll be bruises tomorrow morning. "been thinkin' about this all fuckin' day. you, laid out like this, takin' me so fuckin' well.”

you're a hot mess beneath him, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room alongside your moans. his thrusts are quick, steady, relentless, leaving you no room to catch your breath as he fucks you hard and deep.

"ben—fuck—too much—" you whimper, trying to push at his hips, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

"nah, baby," he growls, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "you can take it, like the good girl you are. i know you can."

his free hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that send you spiraling. you cry out, your back arching off the table as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him.

"that's it," he groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. "fuckin' love watchin' you fall apart f'me."

he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep as he comes, his groan low and guttural. for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing as he rests his forehead against yours, his grip on your wrists loosening.

"happy fuckin' thanksgiving, babydoll," he mutters, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he kisses you, slow and full of love for you.

you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. "you're unbelievable."

"yeah," he smirks, pulling out of you and stepping back, "but you love me."

and as you lay there, still trembling from the intensity of it all, you can't exactly argue with that.

[guupie]

𝙎𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙈𝙚 • 𝙅𝙅𝙆

Synopsis: Being abused by your father constantly had put you in and out of hospitals, but one day you decided that you’ve had enough and ran away from the only home you’ve ever known. You found yourself clinging to a stranger who fights off a gang of men who trys to hurt you while running away from home. Turns out, the man you cling yourself onto soon becomes someone you love in the future. Despite your drug dealer of a father being on their hit list.

Genre: Assassin!jk x female! reader, smut, S2L, agnst, slight fluff.

Word count: 2.8k

Now playing: After Hours - The Weekend

Warnings: abuse, mention of suicide, small act of eating disorder, gore, violence, reader is nineteen, Jungkook is twenty, small age gap, drug-dealers, gang sh!t, reader is on the run from her abusive father, heavy smut, missionary, hair pulling, Jungkook is rough with reader at the beginning, semi-slow burn, grumpy! Jk x quiet reader, reader repeated a grade, slight naive reader, humor, Jungkook smokes cigarettes, Jungkook can’t keep his hands off of reader, jungkook likes reader’s tits a LOT, this is a series—not a drabble.

A/n’s note: hopefully you guys enjoy this :3

Chapter 01: The Girl Who Cried Wolf.

“Y/N, COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT!!”

Your father’s loud drunken voice had rang through your ears, as you sit up weakly against your bed. White bandages decorated your hands and your thighs, your bruised pink plump lips slightly wobble from the sound of his voice. Your dark messy hair falls over your eyes, barely showing your teary face as your small bruised up hands grab at the light blue blankets.

Ever since your mother committed suicide, your father had been drinking non stop. Beer after beer whenever you had came home from school, there he was, lying to waste on the sofa while watching tv in the living.

At first you didn’t mind it, because he never said or did anything to hurt you during the first week of her passing. But soon he started beating you senseless with anything he could get his hands on, broom sticks, cords, belts even a wooden bat if he had to. And you couldn’t afford to go to school everyday with new bandages wrapped around a different body part of yours, it wasn’t shocking that you had nosy friends who didn’t know the concept of minding the business that pays them.

The only thing you were grateful for out of all the beatings you endured, was that he never touched you in a sexual way. Though that may sound selfish but it’s true, plenty of girls out there who would’ve love to take your place as the daughter who gets beat senseless everyday without being sexually assaulted by their drunk of a father.

It didn’t make things better when you found out he was doing drugs, sometimes he’d hallucinate and think you’re his wife and start trying to hug and grope you. Luckily you knew how his messed up routine of getting wasted and high, and your bedroom window was your best friend. Since that’s now where you enter when you come home from school.

You’re a senior in high school, even though you had to repeat the same grade—it’s your last year and you plan on moving out and getting your own place with a stable job and a cat.

The loud stomping snaps you out of your trance as you hide most of yourself under the blankets, soon the door is being abruptly opened by your fuming father with bloodshot eyes as he pants. A belt in one hand as he places the beer bottle onto your dresser.

“D-dad, please no—” You try to say over your stutters but it’s no use, he was utterly drunk out of his goddamn mind.

He takes long steps towards you as he yanks the blankets off of you, revealing your bruised up self and your poorly disheveled school uniform that you hadn’t taken off yet. You don’t get to process what he just done in time before you see him raise the belt in the air, the black belt slaps you across the face.

Sending you towards the edge of your bed, another whack hits you in the back as you fall completely off your bed and onto the grey carpet of your bedroom floor.

You look up through the strands of your hair that slightly blinds you from seeing your father, who stands above you with the belt raised in the air. Your eyes widened as you quickly place both of your arms in front of you, shielding your face from the belt as you feel a sharp sting against your bandage arms. Though they were already in pain, but with the belt constantly slapping against your arms—it’s ten times worse.

Your sobs and pleases are useless against him, he tones out your cries as he repeatedly hits you with the belt until your skin his nothing but dark red and covered in blood and bruises. You don’t see the sick smile that’s plastered across his face but you know it’s there.

“You think you can do whatever you want?! Huh? ANSWER ME YOU DAMN BRATT—” Your father begans kicking you while he yells in your face, though your weak, you find some sort of courage to speak up. Even if you’re being beaten half to death.

“…No!” It almost came out as a whisper in your ears, but your father heard it as clear as day.

“Huh?!” Your father almost scoffs, kicking you in the stomach again before grabbing you by your hair as he stoops to your height. “Wanna repeat that again?!”

You managed to stand up despite the harsh grip on your hair, you stare him dead in the eye, even though all the voices in your head tells you to stop you don’t listen. You couldn’t, not when your life is literally hanging by a thread—to which is out of your control.

It’s either you or him..

“I said..” You began, slapping his hand away from your hair with some strength you had left. “No! As long as you keep putting your hands on me I’ll never do what you say, ever!”

As if god blessed you with strength in your leg, you lifted your leg to kick your father in his balls, sending him on his knees as he curses in pain. You take that as a chance to bolt, running down the stairs with your backpack clinging to your shoulders as you grab your beat up converses. You don’t stop running until your at least five blocks away from your abusive home. You put on your shoes, though you don’t have a jacket to warm you up since it’s raining and all your wearing is your messy school uniform.

Your face is bruised yet beautiful, and your covered in fresh scars and bruises from head to toe, your legs shake from the soreness, your breathing becomes more intense as you take in your surroundings. The street is busy with cars driving by in a rush, people walking past you with different colors umbrellas sending you odd looks before keeping their gaze ahead of them. And you don’t dare to reach out and ask for help, not when you look like you just murderd someone and they put in some attempt to fight back—but clearly failed.

Something in your head tells you to turn around, and when you do you wish you hadn’t. Your drunken of a father waddles up the street in the rain with only his tank top and joggers as his bloodshot eyes glare into your soul the moment he spots you standing there like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Y/N FUCKING L/N!” He bellowed your name like a loin roaring in the distance. You flinch, hard. Your heart drops to your stomach, the billions of eyes that watches him as he only stares at you makes you want to die right there and now. No one in the public eye looks at you, because they don’t know who you are—and they don’t know that he’s calling your name.

So, you pretend that he’s not talking to you. Turning around must’ve been the best decision because your easily smothered in the crowd of people that crosses the street. Hearing your father’s voice that shouts in the distance becomes more and more muffled due the voices of others and the sound of honking.

And when you’re finally out of his eyesight, you find yourself drifting from the busy part of Seoul. Seeping into the underground of Seoul where people get robbed and killed, you heard that there’s a lot of gang activities happening in this part of Seoul though you never cared about it. Because you didn’t think you’d end up in this side of town anyways, well, here you are. And there’s nothing you can do but to keep walking.

Until you can find some sort of shelter, you were going to be walking for quite a while.

Jungkook sits in his black expensive BMW with a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyebrows furrowed as he typed on his phone. Ignoring how some men and women who lingered on front of the gas station staring at him intensely. He found it utterly annoying with how bold people would stare at him before approaching him, and when they approach him it’s almost always one intension on their minds. It made him want to murder them almost completely, did he sound crazy? Yes, and he didn’t give two fucks about it.

There’s only one reason why he came to the gas station, to get some gas for the long trip back to his isolated home. Where his dog is waiting for him and emails that constantly spams his computer from his boss who always as a new target for him.

You would think, that it was normal for Jungook to bring even a gun with him just to enter the gas station—but unfortunately he was bare, no gun and all. Just him and rock hard of hands that works like professional boxers, the man could even kill with his fist. Jungkook sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair, he’s tired, irritated, and most of all stressed out. He’s been on and off with this chick he hooks up with every now and then, their not even in a relationship. But the girl seem to not get the hint of fuck buddies.

But it seems that all girls are the same, women don’t think about men’s feelings—well not Jungkook’s. Because despite him declining their feelings in the politest way or meanest way possible, they still come crawling back like little maggots. And it was truly disgusting.

Before he could let his mind drift further, he sees a strange girl—which was you, limping towards the gas station. Even though it had stopped raining he couldn’t help but notice how your clothes were soaked and your backpack clinging onto you while your bandages that covered your legs were slowly slipping off, showing cuts and bruises.

The bandages on your hand had made him wonder, what the hell happen to this girl?! But all he could think about was how fucked up you looked, he thought, maybe she gotten into a school fight. But that’s not the case, from where he’s sitting—you look like you just went to war and back and now you have to live with the trauma and bruises.

You approach the nearest gas station to use the telephone, or someone’s phone, whoever is nice enough to lend you their phone. You don’t know who to call, because everyone you know, knows your father—and they wont hesitate to inform your asshole of a father where you are. They’ll use that excuse, he needs to know because he’s worried about you. But we all know that’s a complete lie, he cares about getting drunken out of his mind and getting high of drugs weed and pills. It was sad really.

You hadn’t noticed a gang of men approaching you with wide grins on their faces, and when you do—it practically too late. One man with a brown beard had placed his rusty hands on your shoulder, smiling down at you. Even if you were out of your father’s grip, you still couldn’t catch a break. It’s like you were born into this world to be punished by men only.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing over here?” The male says, you fight the urge to scoff because it wasn’t hard to notice how badly bruised up you were. “Wanna come with us?”

“No thanks.” You say dryly, “I have to go—”

And once again you found yourself in a similar situation whenever you’d come home from school and your father was lounging around on the sofa with a beer in his hold, you always tried your hardest to tiptoe up the stairs and into your room but god forbid did the stairs had some sort of grudge against you. But you didn’t expect the seemingly forgotten memory appear before you, and you don’t even realize the men that’s beginning to drag you away.

And when you do you began to scream and thrash around like a five year old who’s throwing a tantrum, you managed to kick one of the men in their stomach as they let go of your left arm. “Fuck—you crazy bitch!” The man that held you by your right arm had raised a hand and slapped you across the face, you plummeted to the ground—landing with a heavy thud. As they continued to stomp and kick you like you were nothing but waste.

Though, you do notice someone out of the corner of your eye approaching. It was a person, their appearance was clean and not sloppy like the group fo men that hovers above you and is currently stomping on you—no. The boy—or man, has his hands in the pockets of his clean black jogger pants as his neatly yet messy black curly hair. You don’t miss the silver material on his lips that slightly shines due to the sun light reflecting off of it. The stranger is buff and he looks extremely dangerous to approach, yet you couldn’t help but stare at him as he stares blankly at the group of men beating you senseless—like your father.

“Oh look, we have an audience.” The man with the dirty blonde hair had chuckled when he noticed the stranger approaching them, his eyes widened with excitement as he pulled on your bruised leg. Causing you to yelp out in pain, it’s almost pathetic having a handsome stranger watching you get beat up like some two dollar whore off the street.

You continue to shield yourself from the hits that the group of men gives you as you hear the stranger speak, his voice is deep and sexy, something out of those forbidden books you’ve managed to get your hands on in the library—once, because once your father found out you were going to the library, he cut your little vacation trip off.

And in a flash, the handsome stranger grabs the dirty blonde male by his collar, landing a punch to his face. The male stumbles back with a loud cry, “MY FUCKING NOSE!”

Your vision begans to go blurry, and you don’t even notice your being lifted off the ground. No room in questioning the stranger because you pass out right after.

To be continued… Next?!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[toxicanonymity]

Hello, Toxy, my darling friend! I am here to bribe you and beg for more of your talent <3 I was so positively shaken by 'Spectators' and the glimpse of lore you gave us, that I just neeeeeeeeeed to know Joel side of this beautiful taboo relationship 🥵

will you be so inclined to tell us more? maybe this gif will inspire you? *slides a battered 20$ bill and all of the change i got in my pocket across the table*

concessions

Joel Miller x f!reader, 1k @iamasaddie ... this gif 🧎‍♀️🫡 ilysm 🪺 WARNINGS: 18+ degradation kink, infidelity, manhandling, jealousy, pussy spank, object insertion, incest mentions. after spectators.

You were just about to walk away when Tommy announced, “Joel's got a second date tonight,” and a pang of jealousy stopped you in your tracks. You turned around, making your short dress twirl out almost a little too high in the breeze.

Behind the bleachers, Joel smoked a cigarette in front of a small, brick building with his feet spread, one arm crossed, hand tucked under his bicep. As you came into view, he mumbled, “here comes trouble.” He threw his cigarette at the gravel and used his boot to smother it before retreating into the concessions kitchen. He started putting a pot of popcorn on.

A group of four women in the bleachers looked down their noses at you and murmured amongst themselves. Their lives must have been so boring. Two men in front of them stared at you until one of the ladies snapped her fingers at them.

Judging eyes be damned, you proceeded confidently around back of the building and let yourself in without knocking.

Joel didn't bother taking his eyes off the stove as he greeted you with sarcasm. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

“Hey, big boy.” You stood there looking pretty, and finally he glanced up.

“Popcorn won't be ready for a minute, but you can get in line outside,” he said as if he didn't have his cock in you hours ago.

“You know that's not what I'm here for,” you said saucily.

“Bored of terrorizing my brother?” Joel asked.

You scoffed. “That asshole wouldn't even let me sit down.”

“Bet he was nicer than he coulda been,” Joel said with a bit of a snarl, then met your eyes and ranted, “Who do you think you are, showin’ up here tryin’ to give him a goddamn lap dance in front of Maria's friends? In front of his kid, for chrissake.”

“Public game last I checked,” you said.

Disgust tinged Joel's voice. “You get some kinda sick pleasure outta bein’ a homewrecker?”

“Not my fault he can't keep his dick in his pants,” you pointed out.

“No, but it's your fault everybody gotta know about it” Joel snapped.

“You think everybody knows about it?” you asked.

“Anybody with two eyes and two ears,” Joel said.

“Mm” You replied as though in thought. “They don't *really* know, though.”

“They know enough.”

“They know y'all like coatin’ your cocks in each other's cum? Eatin’ each other outta me? You think they know that?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Joel snapped. He abandoned the stove as he got in your face, neck vein throbbing.

Turned on by his anger, you hooked your hands into his belt and dropped to your knees.

He hesitated for a moment, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with each rise of his chest.

“Ain't doin’ this,” he grabbed both your wrists and shoved them backwards, making you lose your balance and fall to the side.

“What's wrong? Afraid ya can't cum without your little brother's cock smashed against yours?”

“Get up. Get up now.” He grabbed you by your arm, and manhandled you to your feet.

“Just pretend I'm your sister,” You taunted.

He opened his mouth wide and over-enunciated, “Go… home.”

“You know… I dunno who you think YOU are. Couple hours ago you were balls deep in my pussy talking ‘bout the two of you splitting me open tonight. Now you want me to disappear.”

He shifted his weight onto one foot and rested his hands on his hips. “Ain't happenin’ tonight." It sounded more decisive than degrading. As if he did have a date.

And for a moment, pity flickered across his face before he hardened his gaze again.

“Shouldn't make a promise ya can't keep, brother,” you said. “Our mama raised you better than that.”

“God damnit, get off the floor.” He manhandled you to your feet and eyed the bin of empty beer bottles in arm's reach.

He turned you around and shoved you against the counter so you were both facing the sink.

He held you by the back of the neck. “Always runnin’ that whore mouth…”

You spread your feet and tilted your hips for his access, and he announced, “There she is. Jackson's most used hole. Ain't even gotta lift your dress to see it.”

He gave your pussy a spank, and the sting of his fingers between your legs felt like such a relief.

He grabbed a bottle and warned, “If you don't smarten up, next time it's gonna be two of these.” He pressed the lip of the bottle against your cunt then wiggled it into your entrance.

Once the first inch was in, he slid the rest of the bottle neck into you with a twist, making you gasp when the body of the bottle pushed at your entrance. Joel's cum from earlier began to drip into the glass.

“Savin’ that for Tommy?” you asked.

“God damnit.” Joel sighed and slipped the bottle out of you, wrapped a rag around the neck, and turned it upside down. He held by the neck and used his other hand to spread your swollen pussy lips. You were dripping arousal and cum. Bottom-first, he wedged the bottle into you with help from his fingers. When your walls were stretched around the glass circle, he pushed with a grunt, making you whimper with the pressure.

“You don't act right, we’ll find out if you can take two of these. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you agreed, butterflies in your chest. As if he’d pass up a chance to share a cunt with Tommy.

“Tommy sure as hell won't fuck ya later. Not after that display out there…” He pushed the bottle a little further. “And if I'm gonna bother, gotta know you're tight enough for me to feel somethin’.”

“Felt it earlier didn't you?” You asked.

“Yeah, then I wrecked ya. And if this bottle falls out, I know she's still wrecked.”

He pushed the bottle further into you until your cunt had swallowed the whole fat part of the bottle, and only half the neck was sticking out. It was a remarkable fullness.

“You better pray this dress is long enough, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Though I reckon you'd get off on it, huh? Get off on the whole town seein’ ya walk around with a bottle hangin’ outta your cunt?” He pushed just a little further, and the curved glass of the bottom was flush against your cervix.

“Ow.”

He chuckled darkly, left it there, and stepped back to admire his work. Hands on his hips, he watched you stand upright and tug down your dress–God, it was obscenely short.

“Joel?” A woman’s voice called from outside.

The popcorn was burning.

“Go on,” he nodded toward the door. Get.” He subtly turned his attention toward the stove, and turned the burner off.

With a few slow steps, your cheeks burned at the sensation that your body wanted to push the foreign object out of you, birth it right onto the ground.

“Joel?” the voice was closer

You tried to tighten your muscles to keep the bottle in place, but it was slipping.

You reached down to feel almost the whole neck was out, and the thought of people seeing it under your short dress made your cunt spasm and gush, sending the bottle onto the concrete just as the door opened.

“There you are–Oh!” the woman said as the bottle shattered into a few pieces onto the cement floor.

Face on fire, you looked at the bottle, then glanced at Joel. His eyes met yours with a half smile and he said, “I got it.”

You looked the woman up and down and thought about telling her to enjoy your sloppy seconds, but you left her with an amused half smile. The same one Joel was wearing.

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double play

Ty for reading 🖤