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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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You've Been Gone So Long, Baby (Chapter Six)《Completed Series》

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt had never let anyone so deep into his life until you. But when everything was going so perfectly, when he didn't think he could possibly be happier, he loses everything he loves in a single second–and he's absolutely powerless to fix it.

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains heavy angst & delayed comfort until the end

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: Comfort finally arrives for this angsty little fic! You can find the entire chapter list for this series here. Enjoy this one, it was my favorite of this series!

Year 5

The conference room felt stuffy this afternoon as Matt sat at the large table with Foggy sitting just opposite him. Both men were on their laptops with papers scattered around themselves, the sounds of Foggy’s typing and occasional irritated sighs hitting Matt’s ears. They’d been working on building a good defense for a difficult case for weeks now, spending hours outside of the normal work day doing so, and it felt like they were barely making any headway.

Foggy’s hands eventually dropped down onto the table as he threw his head back against his chair. He groaned loudly in annoyance, the sound drawing Matt’s attention from his braille reader.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Foggy complained.

Matt let out a sigh himself, a hand coming up to run through his already mussed hair. “Maybe we’re coming at this all wrong,” he mused.

“Is there another way to come at it?” Foggy questioned. “Because, Matt, I feel like we’ve tried every possible angle. This just feels hopeless.”

“Okay,” Matt agreed, pulling the glasses off of his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe we need a break. We’ve been working on this nonstop for weeks.”

“Yeah, but Matt, the trial starts next week,” Foggy said. “It’s not like we really have the time to just kick our feet up and think about something else right now.”

Sitting back in his chair, Matt ran a hand over his mouth as he thought. He could hear the way Foggy shuffled through the papers beside him and the way he was grinding his teeth. He was stressed about this case.

“What about that thing you found earlier?” Matt suggested. “We sure it's really a deadend? We can’t somehow use it?”

Foggy gave an exaggerated nod. “Absolute deadend,” he assured him. “Deader than dead. I don’t even know how we’re supposed to figure this one out, man. I mean yeah, he’s innocent, but it’s near impossible to find admissible proof that will, you know, prove that.”

“Well there has to be something,” Matt said, shifting in his seat. “Maybe we should order lunch, take a few minutes before we focus back on it. What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s–holy crap, it’s almost two thirty!” Foggy exclaimed. “Jeez, yeah, we should get food. I need a minute to think about something other than this before my head explodes.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Matt teased him.

Matt heard the sound of Foggy shuffling once again through the pile of papers in front of himself before he picked up his phone. He heard him tapping away against the screen before Foggy finally spoke again.

“So…you feeling that sandwich place again?” Foggy asked. “I could go for a meatball sub. Feels like a meatball sub kind of day.”

Matt chuckled, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “Sounds good to me, Fog,” he answered.

“You want the usual? Or are you feeling like switching things up today?” Foggy asked.

“The usual,” he replied. Matt could feel the look Foggy sent him and he grinned. “I like it, Fog.”

“You know, you should really–”

“Matt?” a distinctly familiar female voice called through the room. “I thought you were working from home today? When did you even come in?”

Matt’s head immediately darted in the direction of what had to be Karen’s unmistakable voice, his lips parting in surprise and confusion. Across the table he heard Foggy’s heart rate increase, his own mouth hanging open in shock.

“ Karen ?” Foggy breathed out.

“Uh, yeah, Fog,” Karen answered. “Why the hell are you both staring at me like that? And when did you change your suit?”

His own heart hammering loudly in his ears, Matt’s head turned to the side, tuning out Foggy and Karen’s conversation for a minute as he listened to the city outside of the building. He heard the confusing chaos steadily growing outside, chaos that sounded so familiar to what he’d heard years ago. Something anxious fluttered in his stomach, his breath coming in shallower as he found himself rising to his feet.

“Fog,” Matt said, hope growing quickly in his chest as he cut into the emotional conversation that he had been beginning to have with Karen, “I think they’re coming back. It sounds like it outside–it sounds like they’re coming back.”

“What is going on ?” Karen begged, frustration evident in her tone.

The screaming and shouting was growing louder from outside the office. Matt began making his way around the conference table, his mouth feeling like it was going dry.

“I’ll explain everything I can, Karen,” Foggy told her in a rush, Matt aware of Foggy’s eyes focused on him as he spoke. “But Matt–you go find her, man! Just be careful out there!”

He didn’t wait any longer. Brushing past Karen as he muttered a quick apology, Matt was rapidly making his way out of their little office and through the brief maze of the building before he was out on the street. He’d left his cane and glasses back in the conference room but he didn’t care. He didn’t need any of that right now because it was clear no one would be paying him any mind with the sheer amount of confusion happening on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

Wasting no more time, he took off at a sprint in the direction of his apartment, weaving his way around everyone suddenly clogging the sidewalk as best as he could. But it was slow going, especially as he ran into more people that appeared to drop into existence out of nowhere. It was almost impossible to maneuver around them all. Frustrated, Matt took an abrupt turn down a nearby alley before clambering up the fire escape to the roof. In this very moment, he didn’t remotely care who might look up and spot the man darting from rooftop to rooftop. All he wanted was to find you there sitting on the leather couch like the past five years hadn’t happened.

◈𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 ◈

Looking down at your hands, your brows furrowed. Where the hell had that glass of water gone that Matt had so adamantly shoved into them only seconds ago? Head raising back up, you turned to look for Matt at the kitchen table, only you did a double take. You sat on the couch, eyes growing wide as your jaw dropped. Where the hell was the television and the stand it was on?

And then your eyes noticed the blank wall space, your mind reeling. You had just been looking at the framed collage of your wedding photos barely ten minutes ago. Why were they not on the wall? Where the hell were they?

Panicked and confused, your stomach twisting uncomfortably, you turned on the couch. The kitchen table wasn’t covered in Matt’s mess that had been there moments ago. It was empty. And the kitchen looked messy with cups lining the counter by the sink and a few empty beer bottles scattered along the countertop. Even the jars on the counter you always refilled with snacks were empty. But you’d just restocked them two days ago.

“Matt?” you called out hesitantly.

You didn’t get a response. Frowning, you reached out to the coffee table for your phone, determined to call him, but your hand hovered over the piece of furniture. There wasn’t a single thing on it, not even your phone.

“What the hell is going on?” you whispered.

Pushing yourself up off the couch, you rested a hand on your belly as you made your way over to the bedroom. The sheets were an absolute mess, bunched up all over on Matt’s side of the bed. Your pillow for some reason was vertical in the middle of the bed near Matt’s side. Which was odd, considering you’d made the bed this morning.

Screams made their way up to your ears from the streets below and you jumped, rushing over to the bedroom window. You pressed a hand against the glass, looking down at the street below. There were people everywhere outside, but they were shouting and moving like they were confused. Traffic in the streets appeared to be stopped up, people even abandoning their cars that were still running. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the disorder below in utter confusion.

“What the hell is going on?” you repeated.

The familiar sound of the roof access door flying forcefully open caused you to jump again. Matt was calling your name out frantically as you pushed away from the window and turned.

“I’m in the bedroom,” you called back. “What the hell is going on, Matt? Where were you? Where the hell is the television and our wedding photos? Why is the–”

You stopped the moment Matt appeared in the doorway, the words dying in your throat. His right hand flew out to grip the doorframe as if it was the only thing holding himself up as he let out a shuddering breath. His left hand flew to his mouth a second later, his eyes tightening as they glistened with tears. Your own eyes dropped down to his left hand, noticing the wedding band distinctly missing from his finger. The sight felt like a punch to the gut and you stumbled backwards, both of your hands flying up to your mouth.

“Matty,” you choked out. “Where’s your ring? Where are our wedding photos?”

A strangled sob fell out of Matt as he pushed off of the doorframe and made his way over towards you. Your own eyes were watering as you watched him, mind racing at what was happening. When he reached you, he immediately dropped down to his knees. His hands landed on either side of your baby bump before his forehead came down to rest against it. And then he openly wept. You stood there, hands hovering just above him, unsure of how to react.

“I missed you–” he choked out, “–so goddamn much, baby.”

“Matty,” you begged, tears slipping out of your own eyes, “please tell me what is going on? I’m–I’m so confused. And you’re scaring me.”

He quickly pulled back from you, shaking his head roughly as he rose back up to his feet. “No, baby,” he croaked out. “No, don’t be scared. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

He drew you into him, holding you tight as he buried his face in your hair. Your own arms wrapped around his waist, tears still slipping out of your eyes.

“You were gone,” he whispered into your hair. “For five years, baby.”

“I–what?” you breathed out. “What do you mean I was gone for five years? I was just sitting on the couch drinking the water you wanted me to drink! You were in the kitchen grabbing pizza. I wasn’t gone!”

You pushed away from Matt, your eyes darting around his tear-stained face and taking in the sight of his red, watery eyes. You noticed some cuts on his face that hadn’t been there minutes ago. A few gray hairs in his stubble you were positive weren’t there before, either. But he didn’t look like he was playing a prank on you–he looked genuinely shocked and overwhelmed that you were here. And the commotion outside was only growing louder.

“Five years ago,” Matt began softly, “something happened. I don’t–don’t really know what, but half of the population just…disappeared.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I was grabbing you that pizza,” Matt told you, his hand reaching out before his fingers gently stroked your cheek, “and when I turned around, you were gone. Just gone. Both of you.”

Your jaw dropped as you shook your head in disbelief. “Matty, that just happened,” you told him.

Fingers still tenderly stroking your cheek, Matt shook his head slowly back at you. “No, baby,” he whispered. “That was five years ago. You’ve been gone for five years.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, tears once again burning your eyes. Heart stuttering strangely in your chest, you stepped backwards from Matt. You felt like you were going to be sick. Five years? Five years ?

“Hey, hey, baby, shh, breathe,” Matt soothed as he carefully lowered you to the edge of the bed. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe, it’s going to be okay.”

Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, you glanced back down at his hand. The wedding band was missing. Why was the wedding band missing?

“Hey, relax, sweetheart,” Matt whispered, a hand coming up to rub your back.

“Where’s your ring, Matt?” you asked quickly. “And our photos? If it’s been five years does that mean you–”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head vigorously. “No. There’s no one else. I–I tried to go on a date. About six months ago. I couldn’t.”

“And your ring?” you asked.

Matt sent you a sad smile, his hand still rubbing calming circles along your back.

“I stopped wearing it a few months ago,” he admitted softly. “Because it hurt too much.”

“What does that mean?” you asked nervously, voice quivering. “We’re–we’re not married in your eyes anymore?”

“What? No!” he answered firmly. “God, no. You and our daughter are the only thing I’ve thought about every single day for these past five years, baby. I have wanted nothing more than for this exact moment to happen. But–but after so long I didn’t think it would. And it–it hurt. But I swear to you baby, you’re my wife.” His left hand reached out, landing on your baby bump as his eyes glistened with tears once again. “The mother of my child. I want you. I always want you. Forever.”

Unable to hold yourself back, your hands grasped onto either side of Matt’s face and you threw yourself forward, kissing him hard. His own hands landed on your neck, holding you close as his mouth moved against yours, kissing you exactly like a man who’d lost his wife for five years would. You could feel everything in the way he kissed you, tears falling down his own cheeks as he did.

“I love you,” he whispered earnestly against your lips. “I love you more than anything.” One of his hands dropped down again, resting along your bump. “Both of you.”

“I love you, too, Matty,” you murmured.

Matt’s face lowered until he was nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms encircled his shoulders, holding him to you. You could feel the tears falling from him and dampening your sweatshirt as you buried your face into his hair.

“I am never letting you go again,” he promised. “Never again, baby, you hear me? Where you go, I go.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that snuck onto your face at his words. “Matty,” you said softly, “you can’t come with me to the bathroom.”

He huffed out an amused breath, his face still buried against your neck. “Baby,” he began, “I will hold your hand while you take a piss.”

A laugh fell out of you and Matt’s lips pulled into a smile against your skin. Your fingers gently played with the hair at the nape of his neck as you turned, resting your cheek atop his head.

“Absolutely not,” you told him.

“Then I guess,” he began lightly, his mouth still curled into a smile along your neck as he spoke, “I am trying to make you piss your pants.”

You immediately lost it, shoulders shaking roughly as you laughed into his hair. Matt’s arms tightened further around you as he laughed along with you, the warm sound filling the bedroom.

Eventually the laughter subsided and Matt pulled away from your neck, his sightless gaze fixed on your chin. A tender smile spread across his face, the dimple in his cheek appearing as he focused on you. Despite the uproar outside, despite that Matt had just told you you'd been gone for five years, you felt safe with him right here.

“I missed you so unbelievably much, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Smiling back at him, one of your hands came up to cradle his cheek, thumb wiping away the tears that were still falling from his eyes. “I’m right here, Matty,” you told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you could even blink his mouth was back on yours, his large palms cupping both of your cheeks as he kissed you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, both of you occasionally breaking away only long enough to say 'I love you.'

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock angst

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bubble-tea-blossom · 2 years

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Jealousy

Pairing: Joel X f!reader

Rating/Warnings: E for Explicit Smut so 18+ only please. Rough sex. Face fucking. PIV. Angst and Fluff and Smut the Holy Trinity. Size kink. Big Meat Joel.

WC: 9.9 k...(I don’t know what happened.)

Summary: You get bit by the green-eyed demon, and struggle with dealing with it. What better way to get your frustrations out than fuck? Good thing you have a fling going with a certain ex-smuggler.

A/N: This takes place before Slip Up. Sorry for posting out of order. Ao3.

You let out a yawn as you finish lacing up your boots.

All tied, you sit up straight on the bed and look over besides you at the sleeping form of Joel.

Jeez, you must have really worn him out last night. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

He’s on his side, facing where you had laid as you slept, facing him. He’s usually such a light sleeper, but you’re being careful as you get dressed to be quiet. He has the day off and you want him to sleep in for once.

He looks so peaceful, his face relaxed, his hair a little wild on the pillow. You know you’re taking too long, you really need to leave. But the view you’re looking at is so...soft.

You spent over two decades in places where all you saw was one horror after the next, the only break were the blue bells in the woods, or the iridescent feather of a pigeon on the ground. After such a deficit of serenity, you can’t help but gorge on the feast before you.

The sight of him makes you want to crawl back under the covers and curl up against him again.

In a close second, you instead lean over and plant a light kiss against his cheekbone.

Eyes still closed, his lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. They’re too irresistible so you kiss the corner of his mouth as well before drawing away.

Finally standing up, you go to leave room when you hear him stir. But when you look back you see he’s only readjusting the pillow, eyes not even open. Obviously not planning on getting up anytime soon. Good.

With that you take your leave, tiptoeing out the back door of his house.

It’s early enough that the morning brings a slight chill, you know will be sorely missed when the summer heat comes on.

With a quick peek over the fence, you don’t see anyone around and slip out his gate. You jog a few steps to get a decent distance away before slowing to a walk.

You already have all your gear you need for patrol, so you head straight for Seth’s bar for breakfast. Dawn patrol means you get the restaurant nearly completely to yourself.

You hear a greeting of your name when you walk through the door, and you look up to see Tommy already sitting at one of the tables, eating.

“I got you something to eat, here.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You say through a yawn, making your way over to the table.

You really did not get enough sleep as you probably should have.

Sat across from Tommy, you unwrap the still warm breakfast burrito and dig in.

You and Tommy eat in silence, when it’s this early not even Tommy wants to talk.

However, after your third yawn within 30 seconds, Tommy speaks up.

“Had a long night or something?” He asks.

“Uh, kinda. Had trouble falling asleep.” You lie, hoping he can’t see your discomfort at his questioning.

“Mm hm.” He hums, giving you a pointed look.

You choose to ignore his probing, feigning ignorance. After a minute of silence you think you’d gotten away with it, but then Tommy opens his mouth like he always does.

“That Chris is pretty cute huh.”

That throws you for a loop. Especially since you have no idea who Chris is.

“Which Chris.” You say, squinting at him while you chew your breakfast.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “The Chris from that big group that joined up two weeks ago? There’s eight of them. He’s young, handsome. Saw you two talking yesterday at the green houses.”

“Oh, that Chris.” You honestly had forgotten his name. He was nice and yeah decently attractive, but you hadn’t felt any pull to him. Wonder why...

“Yeah, that Chris.” Tommy says sarcastically, and your squint narrows at his tone. You can tell he thinks you’re being coy. What, is he trying to match make you with the first guy your age that comes through?

“I think I’m gonna hold a small dinner party for them this weekend, so they can meet more people, feel welcome. They seem to be settling in well.” He says.

“Hey, how come you didn’t throw me a party when I came to Jackson?”

“Probably cause I knew you would have hated that. As I recall you tried to stab me the first time we met. Didn’t really seem like the party type at the time.”

You shrug your shoulders. Fair enough.

“Think I’m gonna get Joel to host, you’re invited obviously.” Tommy says after a sip of his tea.

“Why Joel’s?” You say casually.

“He’s too much of a hermit. This way he can’t slip away after twenty minutes, he’ll be forced to actually talk to people.”

“He does talk to people, he talks to you and Ellie.”

Tommy shakes his head, “He and Ellie ain’t on best terms, let’s put it. He’s really drawn away from everyone since.”

You have noticed things between them had been rocky for a while, and hearing that it’s gotten worse doesn’t really surprise you. You wish you knew more about what’s going on, but you've kept a respectful distance. Joel isn’t the emotional dumper type, getting him to tell you where he was from had taken months of sweet talking him on patrols when he and Ellie first arrived. You have a feeling that something happened before they arrived in Jackson, some big secret that’s been rotting under the surface and is coming to a head.

“Hurry up slow poke.” Tommy jabs at you and you begin chewing again, coming out of your thoughts.

You finish your breakfast quickly and the two of you make your way to the stables to gather your horses and finally get the dawn patrol on it's way.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Patrol is surprisingly drama free for once. The only Infect being ones on the ridge that you and Tommy make a game out of trying to out-snipe the other. Tommy won, and has not stopped gloating the entire ride back.

“Loser buys lunch.” He says, dismounting from his horse and passing off his reins to Ben, the stablehand.

“Lunch is free anyways, idiot.” You say, fishing the cookie you kept in your pocket for your own horse, who nickers in excitement and bobs her head as you raise it to her muzzle. You can’t help but smile at her soft nose and whiskers tickling your palm. With one last pat on her shoulder, you pass her off to Ben as well who gives you a nod before leading both mares back to the stables.

“You’re just grumpy cause you’re a sore loser.” Tommy teases as you join back at his side to make your way to Seth’s restaurant.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble.

Tommy is mercifully silent the rest of the way there, and you’re so looking forward to going home and taking a nap.

The streets are pretty full now that’s it close to midday, Gustavo is out picking his banjo on the corner, Buckley curled up at his feet. The music of his song follows you all the way to the entrance of the bar/restaurant. But the din of people that rushes out as soon as Tommy opens the door for you, chases away any lingering notes.

It’s pretty full, today, Your eyes start scanning the room for a place to sit. Your roving eyes freeze on Joel, who’s standing near the bar at the other end of the room, and the gorgeous woman talking to him.

She’s part of the group that Tommy mentioned earlier this morning. Jolene. You actually do remember her name because when you introduced yourself to them, you remember feeling a little twitch in your gut when you noticed first how beautiful she was: she’s strong, a scar on her eyebrow that only makes her look sexier. The second thing you noticed was her age.

She’s older than you. She’s quite a bit older than you. Much closer in age to Joel than you are. And the realization had made you feel like you had a pebble in your shoe.

The sight of them talking, makes that feeling come back, and you want to shake to vehemently shake it off before you conscious mind can label it.

“Oh there’s Joel, I’m gonna go tell him about his party he’s throwing. You’re coming right?” Tommy asks you, and you only break your gaze on them to briefly glance at Tommy to be polite as you answer, “Yes of course.” Before flicking your eyes back to them.

They’re standing an appropriate distance apart for strangers getting to know one another. But was you watch you see Jolene sway a little into Joel’s bubble every once in a while as she talks. She’s interested in him. Which to be fair, in your opinion who wouldn’t be? But up until now, the competition had been low, Joel doesn’t make himself to easiest person to get to know. But she was certainly trying.

You’re so enthralled in your staring, you don’t notice when Tommy leaves your side, only realizing when you can suddenly see his back getting smaller.

You do turn your head when you hear the door right behind you open and you move out of the way for Ellie and Dina to come in.

They offer you bubbly greetings and you return one in kind, but as soon as they’re past you, you can’t help but you look at Joel across the room.

You see him looking at Ellie, even while Jolene talks to him. She must have noticed his shift in attention because she also looks over in Ellie’s direction, trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

Ellie looks up at Joel and pointedly turns her back to him, and you watch helpless from across the room as visible grief pass over his handsome face. You wish you could grab them both and drag them somewhere private and force them to talk out what ever needs mending. But you really wish you could be there, besides him, and lean into him so he can feel the weight of you pressing into his side, the squeeze of your fingers against his.

By some blessing, Joel looks over at you, and you do your best at a smile, just to tell him you saw, and are trying to comfort him as best as you can.

Jolene obviously says something, because you see Joel’s face quickly shift back to a guarded one, and he turns back to her, saying something before leaving, exiting the restaurant through the back exit.

You definitely don’t feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the disappointment on her face, because that would just be petty.

When you slip outside to follow him, he’s nowhere to be found. You shove your hands in your pockets and make your way to his house.

You can hear disconnected chords being strummed before you even touch the wooden gate to his backyard. You open it gingerly so as not to startle him, but it still creaks and you hear the chords falter for a moment before continuing.

When you round the corner of his back porch, he looks up at you, and you offer him an empathetic smile.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His voice is so low, it’s almost whisked away on the gentle breeze. But you still hear him, and his words make your heart sing.

You take a seat next to him the bench, curling your legs up besides you, and leaning against his shoulder. You sit there listening to him plucking scales and chords, feeling the sun on your face, the warmth of him against you, the wind brushing past you.

Gradually, his chords start to take shape into a familiar melody. “My Girl.” By The Temptations. Bittersweet memories flood you with the tune, of singing with your mother. After she died, the thought of singing felt wrong, and even a few hummed words in the dark of night faded quickly.

But you do actually sing for him this afternoon. Mainly to hear his laugh when you purposefully crack your voice or over dramatize a voice wobble. You realize here and now, with your head on his lap, hearing him laugh, that you’ll do anything to keep him happy. The realization fills you with contentment, stubbornness, and a sort of fear that you’ve never felt before.

Again, you choose to push the thought away before your conscious brain can label it.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

It’s Friday, the day before the dinner party at Joel’s house. You have no idea how people Tommy has invited but you're excited to see the inevitable chaos that will ensure.

It’s your second day of four off, since patrollers have schedules like nurses, four days on and four days off. Yesterday you spent the whole day basking in the sun, and lazing around your place.

Today you’re already getting restless, years of living on your own, being constantly on edge has made it difficult to do nothing for long periods of time.

To combat this antsy-ness why not have fun and be productive at the same time?

The shooting range is one of your favorite places to spend your time. Your specialty is long range weapons, a fair portion of your patrols are with Tommy along the ridge line, sniping Infected. This is why you’ve bonded so much over the years you’ve been at Jackson, and he really took you under his wing, honing your skills since being here.

If you’re being honest, when Joel and Ellie first showed up, you were a little worried about being pushed out in a way, with Tommy’s attention now on his brother which is perfectly reasonable; what you wouldn’t give to have family here. But Tommy stuck by you, and now some of his purposefully annoying attention is divided up, which works out for you.

With bullet makers in town, this means a steady supply for practice, and no anxiety about wasting precious bullets. Since you practice so much long range, you decide today is a good day to sharpen your close range skills with some hand guns.

The nice thing about the close range is there’s a section outside, perfect for beautiful days like today.

When you get to the log, the range assistant asks you what you want today. You take a moment to think.

Your thoughts go to Joel, and his loved revolver he has. He trusts that weapon with his life, praising it because he never has to worry about it jamming.

“Can I get a double action revolver, please?” You ask the worker. He gives a quick nod and turns to unlock the gun safe behind him.

“Good choice.”

You spin around to see Joel, and feel a smile split your face. He’s standing there in all his green plaid glory. His hair has fallen over his forehead on one side, and you have to restrain yourself from going on tiptoes to reach up and brush your fingers through it. You know how much he loves his hair being stroked.

Instead you say, “Getting some much needed practice in, Miller?”

Joel smiles at that, “Tough words.”

“Up for a rematch so I can kick your ass again?” You say, voice cocky.

“Love to, but I’m a little busy actually.” He says and just then you see Jolene behind him, making her way over to the two of you. You feel your stomach sink. But you make sure to keep your face completely neutral, forcing a friendly closed mouth smile at Jolene when she says hello.

“Couldn’t help but hear someone say something about a rematch. Mind if I join?”

“Oh I was just joking, I didn’t realize you guys were busy with something.” You say, hearing how lame your excuse sounds.

You hear someone call your name from behind Joel, and everyone turns to see Tommy, sniper riffle cradled in the crook of his elbow.

“This could be your redemption from when I smoked you earlier this week.” He says, a wide smile on his dumb stupid face. This is the last thing you want to be doing.

You hope your glare translates all the curses your calling him in your head, but all he does is smile wider at you.

“What do you say, you and me?” Jolene says, giving you a nudge on the arm. She’s being friendly, and saying no is only going to make you look like the asshole who’s being unreasonable.

“Sure.” You comply, trying your best to look casual instead of defensive. You feel the tips of your fingers tingle and your palms start to sweat. Sure, it’s just a friendly competition, but you can’t help feel like your reputation is on the line, along with some other unconscious competition going on.

After a quick explanation from Joel, Jolene goes over to log out a double action revolver same as yours.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask, a slight strain in your voice as you turn to Tommy and Joel. Joel at least looks a little guilty, he can tell you don’t want to do this.

“Tommy asked me to give a tour because he said he was too busy.” Joel quickly explains, blaming Tommy.

“I am busy. I came to get my sights fixed on this puppy.” Tommy explains, giving the gun a soft pat.

“Mm hmm.” You and Joel both hum in tune with each other. The both of you have experienced plenty of Tommy’s meddling. Tommy likes to pull strings from the background.

“Alright, ready.” Jolene announces. With a quick look at Joel and Tommy, who gestures for you to lead the way, you gesture for her to follow you.

“Do you know where the outside range is?” You ask, to which she shakes her head.

“Ok, I can show you the way.” You say.

“Sounds good to me. Tommy says you’re a pretty good shot.” She compliments.

Usually that would make you feel good, but for some reason today, hearing her say it, only makes you feel worse. You feel the pressure rising up your throat to not embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

So instead you shrug, “Tommy doesn’t think before he talks a lot of the time.”

“Hey. I can hear you.” He snaps from behind you, pulling a soft chuckle from Jolene.

“I’m a pretty decent shot myself, just so you know.” Jolene finishes.

Alright, now you really need to win.

The targets are already set up. Wooden planks cut out in a human silhouette with paper targets on the torso and head. You let Jolene pick a station to situate herself in and you choose the one next to her.

Flicking open the chamber, you fill in six bullets then flick it closed. Joel’s past words of advice running through your mind while you simultaneously pretend to not really notice his presence behind you.

Hold it like you love it: not too tight, not too loose. Squeeze the trigger slow, but confident.

“Wanna shoot first?” Jolene asks. It’s a disadvantage going first, in your opinion, so to be gracious you accept.

Deep breath in, eyes on your target, raise the gun and find the red bullseye in the iron sights, squeeze.

The shot rings around the range, and after a beat you lower the gun. Not quite a bullseye, but pretty damn close. It’s a good first shot. But instead of relief, you just feel more pressure mount up your throat because now you need to keep it up.

“Nice shot.” Jolene says, “Some real competition.” She grins.

Her movements are smooth, and practiced, she’s obviously someone who can handle themselves. She aims and her shot rings in a delayed echo to yours.

The tear in the paper of her target is nearly identical placing to yours, just on the other side.

Your second shot ends up much the same to your first, only a little lower this time.

Jolene’s lands nearly on top of her first’s, making the hole bigger and little oblong.

You take a deep breath in just like every time as you raise the gun.

“Let’s see it, sharpshooter.” Tommy calls from behind you.

“Tommy, shut the fuck up.” You snap, arms still raised. You try to reorient yourself, but now your rhythm is thrown off. You lower the gun quickly, take another breath, and raise the gun again.

You aim, fire, and hit the very corner of the paper, not even on the painted circle.

You grit your teeth, cursing yourself out harshly in your head. You don’t know why you’ve gotten so invested in this stupid “friendly” competition.

But then Jolene’s shot hits the right half of the bullseye, and you see Joel lean over to her and toss her a quick “Fine shot.” And you feel your self hatred triple.

“What the hell happened there? A ghost came and knocked your gun or some’n?” Tommy quips. You know he’s just joking around, that’s just what he does. But right now, it’s only pissing you off.

“Tommy, I will forfeit this competition just so I can shoot you, if you don’t shut up.” You glare at him. Despite your harsh words and tone he doesn’t look too disturbed, but he does at least throw his hands up and take a few steps away from you.

You shrug your shoulders to shake off his teasing, before re-aiming.

Your fourth and fifth shots are better, landing on target again, but only in the outer circle. Compared to Jolene’s who's are both second circle.

With only one shot left, winning is basically impossible.

“You can always try for the head shot.” Jolene suggests.

If you get a bullseye head shot, and if she misses the target completely, you’ll win. But with how you’re shooting right now, with a weapon you don’t use often, frazzled and embarrassed, you’re more likely to miss the wooden cut out completely and further humiliate yourself.

But now that she’s said that, if you don’t go for the head shot, you’ll look like a coward, and bonus if you miss the body shot you’ll look even more incompetent than missing a head shot.

What a nice relaxing day off, this has turned out to be.

You aim at the body bullseye, and the bullet lands a good four inches away. At least you didn’t miss entirely.

Jolene goes for the head shot, not quite hitting the bullseye but still landing on the much smaller target.

“Nice shooting, the both of you.” Joel congratulates, but when he looks over at you, you glance down.

Jolene says your name so you look up, carefully avoiding Joel’s eyes.

“You did a good job. Not gonna lie, you had me a little worried in the first half, kid.” She smiles at you.

It takes all your effort to force a smile back.

Tommy calling you kid is one thing, Joel used to as well but has definitely stopped for the most part except for when there’s other people around, and you can always tell it’s his way of calling you sweetheart with other’s present.

Jolene calling you kid only makes everything worse because it points out just how much younger you are than her, and just how much better matched she would be with Joel. Her calling you that has light a fire on your inside, you can feel your body heat up with actual anger.

Anger at Jolene, at Tommy, at Joel for some reason. But mostly its anger at yourself.

“Good game.” You manage to grit out, “Well I’ll get out your guy’s hair, see you around.”

You spin around and walk away too fast for anyone to prolong anything. You hand in the revolver to the worker and keep your head down so you can’t see Joel in your peripheral. Then you make your escape back home.

Never in a million years will you ever confess to anyone that you cried when finally closed your bedroom door.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

After what happened yesterday, being at this dinner party is the last place you wanna be.

You’re trying not to be too sullen, to mingle like normal. Laugh at the appropriate times, ask the appropriate questions. When all you want to do is be curled up in your bed, sulking.

Not like you didn’t do enough of that yesterday.

So you’ve taken to sitting curled on the sofa in the corner of the living room, drinking wine, by yourself. You’re definitely not hyperaware of Joel and Jolene having a conversation in the kitchen.

Joel and Jolene. God, even their names are perfect for each other. Joel and Jolene, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Apparently your brain has been reduced to childhood theatrics. You take a huge swig from your wine and see over the rim of your glass the shape of Maria approaching.

“Was wondering where you’d gone.” She says, as she takes a seat next to you. Her voice low despite the din of the many others (Tommy did invite a fuck ton of people) in the neighboring rooms.

“I’m sulking.” You half-jest, the wine loosening your tongue.

“I can see that.” She motions for the glass and you hand it to her, watching her take a big gulp.

“Dinner parties aren’t my favorite, honestly.” She admits, taking a last sip before handing the glass back, now significantly lighter.

After a pause, where the both of you listen to the jumble mess of multiple conversations tumbling together, she speaks.   “Tommy told me about yesterday.” She starts.

“Oh, when he pressured me into completely humiliating myself?” You jeer.

Maria heaves a sigh, “Yeah. He came home raving about how impressed he was with you. He knows you don’t have a lot of practice with hand guns.”

You’ll never admit it, but hearing that Tommy was praising you to others, does actually make you feel good, but you’re still mad at him.

“Yeah, but Jolene doesn’t know that. Great way to introduce myself: hi, nice to meet you wanna, watch me make a fool of myself?”

“Yes, I know, hunny. I talked to him, told him not to put you on the spot like that again. I think he forgets how far you’ve come over the last few years since coming here.” She says, giving your knee a squeeze.

It’s true. You had been so skittish when you first came here. You didn’t speak to people, only giving one word answers if necessary. You would take your food and eat in the little garage hut like the one in the backyard here where Ellie sleeps. You would hide most days in your hut, or finding corners of town that were often abandoned so you could sit in the sun there and no would could sneak up on you.

After about four months of never seeing you, Tommy knocked on your door one day and told you someone needed this hut and so you were moving somewhere nicer.

“It’s bigger, I promise. More space.” He’d said, and you packed your entire hut into a duffle bag in five minutes and easily slung it over your shoulder and followed him to a very different part of town.

The part of town he brought you too was a key area you had learned to avoid, it seemed families particularly with small kids lived here, so it’s easy for the kids to play together.

Tommy brought you around the back of one pretty big house and down some steps to the door of the basement suite.

It was much bigger, with a nice sized kitchen, and a bedroom with a queen sized bed, a bathroom with a bath and shower, a dinning room and even a separate living area. Furnished and cozy.

You’d hated it.

At first at least. The family that lived above you had three young kids, which meant noise. And unless you wanted to hop the back fence to get home, you usually had to pass by someone, and be forced to at least answer a few casual questions.

The sounds of running around, dropping things, parents scolding, kids crying drove you crazy, and the small interaction everyday on the way to your basement caused you anxiety.

But eventually, you got used to it, and the sounds of kids screaming in glee or giggling at their older brother’s antics made you smile every time.

At some point, the kids were playing in the street outside when you were coming home, planning on hiding in your room and eating in silence.

But they were having trouble remembering how to draw a hopscotch board on the ground and had begged you with pretty please with a cherry on top, to teach them.

Soon the parents, Sheryl and Darrel, started inviting you to dinner, and looking back on it, moving in there was one of the best things that’s happened to you. It helped thaw the glaciers you’d built around yourself to keep yourself safe all those years. It helped to learn how to be a person again, and not an animal out in the wilderness.

“Tommy does a lot of meddling, but, his meddling usually helps people. He’s helped me in ways, I’ll never be able to repay.” You admit.

Maria nods, palm open to receive your wine glass again.

“He does love sticking his nose into everyone’s business that’s for sure.” She says, taking another long gulp, finishing off your glass. “Oops.”

“C’mon, I’ll go get you another one.” She says rising off the couch, you begrudgingly following suit.

“Oh, and he wants to talk with you.”

You nod your ascent and follow her into the kitchen.

Maria leads you into the dinning room where Tommy is sitting at the table next to Chris, the new Jacksonite. Once she’s successful delivered you, Maria silently takes her leave with a last touch on the arm.

Tommy stops what he was saying to turn to you.

“Hey, there you are. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine, Tommy. How are you?” You reply politely.

“Good, talking with Chris here. We was talking ‘bout your and I’s patrols along the ridge line, how beautiful it is in fall especially.”

“Sounds pretty.” Chris agrees.

“Well if you’re still here in a few months you’ll see it for yourself.” You say, looking at him and taking a seat at the table next to them.

“Oh maybe not, I’m a lousy long distance shoot.” Chris chuckles good naturedly, “I’m more of a close range man.”

You shrug, everyone’s got their own talents. You go to take a sip of your wine before remembering Maria drank it all.

“Well we’ve got a fantastic shooting coach sitting right here.” Tommy says, giving your shoulder a firm shake.

Oh, very smooth Tommy.

“Oh I’m not really, I lost a shooting competition yesterday.” You laugh it off.

“Well maybe you can show Chris the tricks of shooting long distance and he can help you practice close range?” Tommy oh so innocently suggests.

Chris looks at you, “That sounds nice. I’d love to see the ridge line.”

You look from Chris to Tommy and see his complete neutral expression you know is hiding a self-sastified interior.

After a pause, you respond, “Can’t see why I can say no to that.”

“Great.” Tommy claps his hands together, standing from his chair, “I gotta go find Maria, see you kids around.” Then he takes his leave quickly.

You and Chris watch him leave before turning to each other and sharing an awkward laugh.

“So, how long have you been in Jackson?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, could you just give me one minute? I’ll be right back.” You apologize, standing up and taking after Tommy, leaving Chris to watch you leave him as well.

You catch up to Tommy quickly, finding him pursuing the food in the kitchen. You grab him by the sleeve of his jean jacket and start dragging him away towards the back of the house.

He’s smart enough to follow wordlessly, letting you drag him out the back sliding door. You slam it shut behind you, instantly muffling the sound of the others and the music playing from the speaker softly.

“What the hell was that.” You demand.

Tommy takes a moment to respond, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“You know you could afford to be friendly with more people, make some friends, maybe even go on a date?” He starts, “You’ve never shown any interest in anyone in all the time you’ve been here. You’re just as bad as Joel. You can’t keep holed up in your house forever.”

You feel taken aback, and you don’t know what to say.

“I never asked you to be my match maker, I don’t want you to be my match maker.” Is all you say, before you leave, letting the door slam shut behind you.

Tommy is really getting on your nerves this week, you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

You need another glass of wine. When you nearly get back to the kitchen you steps falter and your heart drops.

There on either side of the kitchen island, are Joel and Jolene wrapped up in conversation. You watch Joel crack a smile and nod his head, crossing his arms over his chest. The blue sweater he’s wearing shows off his muscles, and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. Jolene laughs at something he says and grab his arm, lingering for a moment before retreating with a light tap.

You know Joel, and you know he’s not funny at all until he’s decided to trust you. That takes minimum six months.

Your stomach starts to burn too much to handle, and you turn on your heels and race up the stairs.

The upper floor is mercifully quiet, and you quickly go to hide in the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door, you force yourself to take deep breaths.

Why does your stomach churn like this? Why are your palms sweating and your chest aching?

You look at yourself in the mirror. You made sure to make yourself look cute as hell today. You’re wearing that black and white polka dot dress that shows off your curves and ends just shy of too short on your thighs. The one you know Joel loves.

And yet, despite all that effort, you feel worthless. Why do you feel like this?

You’re jealous. Let’s be real, you’re jealous and you want with all your heart to go downstairs and tell Jolene to never touch your man again.

But he’s not your man. You’re not officially dating, not even telling anyone. All you and Joel have discussed is that you wanted to take things slow. For all you know, you could be just fuck buddies.

You notice you’ve started glaring at yourself. You school your expression back into neutral and take a step back so you can smooth out any wrinkles in your dress. You give a quarter turn so you can check your backside. God you really look amazing in this.

An idea pops into your head, and with new confidence in your step, you open the door and head back downstairs.

There, you see Joel and Jolene still talking by the kitchen island.

You weave through the crowd to get to the kitchen, ignoring the both of them as you pour yourself another glass of wine. You take a sip of it before turning and crossing so you’re on the same side of Joel.

“Sorry.” You duck into their conversation, reaching with one hand across Joel pretending to reach for some food. As your hand passes the edge of the counter right in front of Joel, you knock into it and drop the glass, purposefully tipping it so it pours all down Joel’s lap before shattering at his feet.

“Shit.” You curse and immediately drop down, starting to pick up the big pieces of glass. Luckily it didn’t break into tons of pieces, mostly big chunks.

With your free hand, you grab Joel’s ankle so he looks down at you and you make deliberate eye contact. You see his questioning gaze, and give him a quick squeeze before dropping his leg to keep cleaning.

Joel helps you out and soon all the glass is thrown out.

“Shit, Joel, your pants.” You point out. Indeed there are muted red stains on the black denim.

“Here, let’s go upstairs so you can change and I’ll wash them out. I am so sorry.” You say, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the kitchen.

“Jolene do you mind finishing cleaning so no one slips, while I wash them?” You ask, giving a pleading tone to your voice.

Jolene looks a little dazed but nods anyways, “Oh course, no problem.” She gets up to go clean your mess while you lead Joel upstairs. No way bats an eye at you, your alibi worked perfectly.

You see Joel look at you, but you pretend not to notice.

Upstairs you push him into the bathroom and with a last glance to make sure no one is around, you close the door behind you and lock it.

Joel tilts his head at you, whispering your name in a half hearted scold.

You smile innocently at him, taking confident strides to close the gap. Toe-toe, you start undoing his belt, pulling the leather through the loops.

You feel his hand lift to land on your waist, thumb drawing gentle circles on your hipbone.

“Right now?” his voice sounds a little deeper, arousal quickly thickening it.

You nod your head deliberately, wide eyes blinking innocently.

“I need you.” you confess, feeling your heart rate quicken, and arousal pool in your center.

Joel rumbles in his chest before he replies, “What do you need from me?”

You take a brief moment to think of what you actually want, a clear thought popping into mind.

“I want you to fuck my face.” You confess. You see the reaction you wanted, his chest rising a little heavier, eyes a little darker, nose flared a little wider.

You begin to sink down onto your knees, keeping eye contact as you go down.

“Do you want to fuck my face, Joel?” you ask, looking up at him.

“If that’s what you want, darling.” He croaks out, hand going to the back of your head encouragingly, fingers rubbing in a circular motion, almost in a petting fashion

You continue by unzipping his fly, opening his jeans just enough. You press your palm against the mass of him, and gently massage through his underwear, hearing Joel’s sharp inhale.

You rub until you feel him start to harden, which doesn’t take too long. With one hand you pull down the elastic band and with the other you reach inside to pull him out. His skin is warm, and he fills your palm. He’s thick despite not being fully erect.

You shuffle a little closer on your knees, and lean in, purposely looking up at him, making sure he’s watching. You drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking at the tip, before repeating.

“Holy fuck.” He breathes, chest rising more rapidly, watching your pink tongue drag along his cock.

You use a hand to start stroking him, starting gentle and slow, using the flat of your tongue on his upper half to get him fully hard.

Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair, the other coming the join the first. You get the message and drop your hand, lips closing around his tip, his taste flooding your tastebuds.

Joel starts gentle. Using his hands to guide you up and down his length. He goes a little further each time, until eventually despite you opening your throat as much as possible, he gags you a tiny bit.  

Back and forth to that same spot until you don’t gag. And the next time he pulls you down, he goes a little deeper until you gag again. He repeats the process, getting you used to taking him deeper and deeper. All the while, giving you praises here and there. Groaned out “Fuck” and whispered “That’s it.”

He’s going faster and faster, and he starts bucking his hips in time while fucking you down onto his cock. When you make the occasional gag, you dig your hands into his thighs to keep him from stopping.

He pulls you off of him and you gasp for air, wiping the spit from your chin. You catch your breath quickly, before running the flat of your tongue up the underside of his cock, watching him groan and throw his head back.

Your lips seal back over his tip and Joel picks up his pace again. You do your best to swirl your tongue and keep from gagging, but your mind has blissfully checked out, and all you’re aware of is Joel standing above you, the weight and taste of his cock in your mouth and the aching pulse from your core.

You can tell he’s getting close, and you rip yourself off him, hands coming up to rapidly stroke him to keep him close to the edge.

“I want you to come on my face, Joel.” You plead, wrist twisting up and down his cock.

“Fuck, you sure?” He breathes, red tinting the top of his cheeks.

You respond by stroking him exactly the way you know he needs to push him over the edge. You shut your eyes just in time when you hear his telling groan.

He comes in thick ropes, hitting your cheek, your lips, your forehead, your hands never slowing throughout. You can tell Joel’s trying to be quiet, muffling his sounds of pleasure as best as he can.

“Fuck, if that ain’t a sight.” He breathes and you blink your eyes open, hand coming to a stop. You look up at him and smile wide for him.

Gently, you release him, and he tucks himself away before helping you to your feet. He turns the tap on, and wets a washcloth.

“You’re a mess.” He murmurs as he begins dutifully cleaning you up. You just stand there, basking in his attention.

Once you’re all clean, he grabs a hold of your face and peppers kisses over you, saving your lips for last.

When you part, you take a step back, “Ok mister, go get new pants and go down first, I’ll wash yours out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replies, giving you one last kiss before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You wash the wine out of the pants and then throw both them and the washcloth into the laundry. Which amazed you to no end when you first arrived that Jackson had enough electricity and water for people to use washing machines.

Your good mood lasts all the way until you get back downstairs, and are greeted with the sight of Jolene talking with Tommy and a few other people. All of a sudden all of your previous anxieties and worries came crashing back.

Your first instinct is to want to go find Joel, but you knew you can’t. You don’t want to arouse any more suspicion than you already have tonight. What you really need is to leave this party.

And so while no one is looking, you sneak out the back door, and escape through the backyard.

The late hour means you have the streets to yourself as you walk home, your thoughts in a weird turmoil of pleasure and self doubt.

When you approach your house, you see Sheryl sitting on the back porch, smoking. It’s not the first time you’ve caught her smoking, a habit you agreed to keep quiet about in front of Daryl.

“Hey.” You greet, sitting down besides her.

“How was your party?” She asks, exhaling a breath of smoke.

You shrug, tucking your hands underneath your thighs, “Was alright I suppose.”

She just gives you a look.

“What?”

“I know that tone. You’re upset about something and pretending nothing is wrong.”

“Jeez, what are you my mom?” You joke in an attempt to hide your awkwardness.

“No, but I am a mom of three, and a wife, and a human with ears.” She responds, putting out her smoke.

You dig the heel of your boot back and forth in the dirt. “There’s someone I like. Someone I think I might really like. But at the party someone else was talking with them, and it made me sad and mad at the same time. Then I felt stupid about feeling that way.” You confess.

Sheryl takes a moment to process your words, before she says, “Is it Joel Miller?”

You feel your heart drop and real fear floods your bones. “Uh, what-“ You start to stammer before she cuts you off, “I seen him come round here pretty often lately. Usually at night.”

“Fuck. Please, Sheryl. Don’t tell anyone, please-“ You start but she again cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “Honey, I ain’t gonna tell anyone. Ain’t my business to tell.”

You do feel a little relief at her words, you trust Sheryl, she keeps her promises.

She waits patiently for you to recollect yourself. “Do you think it’s wrong?” You finally ask.

Sheryl looks at you with a questioning gaze, so you supply “Because he’s older.”

She just snorts. “Honey, my husband is 12 years older than me. Honestly I don’t give a fuck.”

Her words make you crack a smile and she’ll never know how much they fill you with relief.

“So, who was at this party?” She prods further.

You heave a sigh just thinking about her, “One of the new members that came in a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen one of them sniffing around him, in town recently.” She agrees.

“I’m just so worried he’ll realize how much better she is for him, than me. I just stand there and realize there’s nothing I can do, because he’s not really mine, and I’m not really his.”

“Why have you decided for him that she’s better for him, than you? Only he can make that decision.”

You can’t think of a good argument to that. 

“And about not knowing,” she continues, “it sounds like you’ve decided you’re his, now you just need to figure out if he’s decided he’s yours.”

A couple of heartbeats pass in silence as you think on her wisdom, before the two of you look up at the sound of footsteps around the corner of the house. There, who steps into view, is Joel.

“That’s a good sign.” Sheryl says quietly to you.

Joel nods his head at her, “Sheryl.”

She nods hers back, turning to you with a pointed look before rising to her feet, “Excuse me.” And she takes her leave, going around to the front to sneak back in the house.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Joel says, once the two of you are alone.

You nod your chin to indicate to follow and lead him to the stairs that lead to your basement suite. You two kick off your shoes before going down the stairs.

You sit down on a couch in the living area and he sits down next to you.

“I know you been unhappy the last few days.” He says. “And I think I know why.”

Again, shame floods you at your feelings you didn’t choose to feel. How you wish you were mature enough to not feel such silly attachment.

“I’m sorry Joel, I tried so hard not to show it, I know its stupid.”

Joel shushes you gently, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You heart bursts and you kiss him back. His hands brush your hair away from your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip and you respond eagerly. One of your hands reaches up to cradle his head while the other rests on the center of his chest.

Eventually he breaks away so you can catch you breath, and he presses firm kisses up your face from your nose, between your eyebrows and on your forehead, pulling a giggle from you.

“Ain’t stupid.” He says, “In fact, it might be horrible to say, but I was a little flattered that you were jealous. Because I am yours.” He says while holding your hand on his chest and giving it a squeeze before his other hand rests on the crook of your shoulders. “And you are mine.” He says, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You kiss him again in a rush, before breaking away soon after.

“Then if I’m really yours, I want you to take what’s yours.” You breathe out, waiting to see his reaction.

To say his reaction pleases you, would be an understatement, as he pulls you on top of him, holding your torso tight to his as he stands up. You legs wrap around his hips instantly as he carries you to your bedroom, your small laughs filling the room.

Once in your bedroom he carefully lets you down next to your bed, before shutting the door. Once he’s returned to you, you rush back into his arms to kiss him again. Your kisses turn furious quickly, the frustration and angst you’d been feeling turning into sexual frustration.

You nip at his lips between kisses, and you can feel him responding to your energy. You break apart with heaving chests.

“Joel, I need you to fuck the shit out of me.” You confess, breaths heavy.

Joel pauses at your words, crooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head up.

“You sure?”

You nod your head furiously.

“You want me to be rough with you?” He asks, his other hand pressing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Joel.” You’re closed to pleading, looking up at him with the biggest, tempting eyes you can manage.

You hear his rumble of approval at your enthusiasm.

“You know the deal. You let me know if you want to stop.” He says.

Again you nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak.

“Then be a good girl and take your clothes off.” He says, gently pushing you back a step so you have space.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you this intensely as you measuredly begin peeling one layer of clothes off at a time. You watch the entire time as Joel’s eyes darken as they trace over every inch of newly exposed skin you bare for him.

Heart thundering in your chest, you finally stand in front of him completely bare. The air on your skin along with him standing in front of you giving you goose bumps, your nipples tight as your chest heaves up and down with your laboured breaths. He hasn’t even touched you and you’re out of breath.

Finally Joel takes a step forward, one big hand resting flat along your collarbone while the other finally cups one of your aching breasts. His touch is warm, and oh so welcome when he starts massaging the fat of your breast while circling your nipple with his thumb as his other hand trails along your body, alighting your skin in its wake.

His one hand cups the front of your throat gently, it’s so big it easily engulfs it, fingertips almost meeting on the other side. You almost melt at the touch, thrusting your chin up to give him access.

You let him love on you for a while, stroking and rubbing along your upper body, leaning in to give you a quick kiss every once in a while. Until you can’t stand it any longer and your hands come up to his broad shoulders to shrug his jacket off, and he helps you get it to the floor and kicked besides your pile of clothes.

One wandering hand of his is back on your sternum and trails lower and lower, petting the soft flesh of your belly, before finally dipping lower. He cups you firmly, and growls when he discovers how wet you already are.

“Fuck girl, you’re always so wet for me.”

“Always for you, Joel.” You promise, shuddering out a breath when he parts your lips to start playing with your pussy with long fingers.

Standing with your feet fairly narrow means even one of his fingers burns a little when he pushes past your entrance, despite how wet you are. The burn is welcome, exactly what you need tonight. You need to be set on fire.

Joel slips his finger out, and you look at him with a look of disappointment. It doesn’t last long because Joel’s grabbing you and heaving you into the air to throw you like a rag doll onto the mattress. You bounce a few times, reorienting yourself to watch him strip the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes travel with glee down his chest, down to wait for him to get rid of his jeans. When he does, you see he’s thick and hard for you, and you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him.

“Glad I didn’t wear you out earlier, old man.” You tease, waiting for his reaction. His cheek twitches but other than that you don’t see anything else because he’s grabbing you by the shoulders to flip you onto your knees and pressing your face into the pillows.

Joel pushes your knees further apart to expose your gleaming cunt to him. Your back dips instinctively, pushing yourself higher to give him easier access.

Joel’s hands rub your ass, spreading you apart to see your tight hole he’s about to fuck into the mattress. One hand drops away, and you feel the tip of his finger push past your entrance again. You mewl into the pillow as he pushes all the way to the knuckle. So desperate for friction, you can’t resist to start rocking your hips.

“You’re needy.” Joel mumbles behind you. You just whimper when he withdraws from you.

You hear him spit, and then finally, what you recognize as the tip of his cock is rubbing along your pussy, dipping to your entrance to spread your slick around.

When he finally slides home, your jaw drops from the relief. He pulls out slowly, keeping only his tip fit snuggly in your cunt before pushing back in, just as slow.

This tempo makes you feel every ridge and vein along his cock as it pushes your walls to their maximum, the bump when he reaches the end of you making you ache in a pleasant way.

“Please, Joel.” You beg into the pillows. He responds instantly, snapping his hips against your ass. You jolt forward with a gasp, barely being able to recover because he’s fucking you for real now.

Over and over, he fucks his cock into your sopping pussy, so wet it’s dripping onto the sheets below you. The wetness adding to the damning sounds echoing around your room along with your whimpers and gasps and Joel’s grunts.

Joel isn’t holding back tonight, his fingers dipping into your hips, he’s slamming his full weight against you because he knows you’re strong enough to take it.

“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart.” He groans. You obey, one cheek flat on the mattress so you can breathe, you reach behind you and spread your ass for him.

Joel’s thrusts slow down again as he watches his thick cock disappear into your cunt, before pulling out, wetter.

“Your pussy lips don’t wanna let go of me.” He says, reaching a hand up to rub your clit while he leisurely fucks your tight slit.

Joel fists your hair and drags your head up, your hands dropping flat onto the mattress underneath you to ease the crank of your neck. He turns your head to the side, pointing you at the full length mirror you have next to your dresser.

You get drunk on the sight of you on your hands and knees, and him behind you, pumping his hips against yours. His chest bare, heaving, glistening with sweat. Your eyes follow the line of chest hair that travels down to his navel, leading to his cock, which you unfortunately can’t see from this angle, but you can certainly feel inside you.

Joel sits you both up, re-situating you, so you’re sitting in his lap, back leaning against his chest. His hands push your knees apart and in the mirror you can see the base of his cock pressed snuggly up against your pussy.

You moan at the sight, and then again when he starts moving you up and down his cock, rolling his hips to rub you in the perfect way. The visual combined with the feeling ,causes a shudder to course through your body.

Suddenly, with both hands on your waist, Joel pulls you completely off him and the unsatisfied feeling of emptiness rushes over you. Joel rests his shinning cock, flat against your belly, and you see in the mirror just how deep he goes.

“Fuck.” You moan out, hand reaching down to stroke him as you find the right angle to grind your clit against his cock. “I can’t believe you fit inside me.”

Joel growls against your neck, letting you have your fun grinding against his cock beforelifting your hips high enough to sink you back down onto him. You watch with rapt as his length disappears inside you, feeling him throb against your tight walls.

He starts fucking up again, one hand reaching down to rub your clit. You watch his fingers work you over and feel the sparks of pleasure reach their peak before you’re falling over the edge, your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises.

Joel flips you back onto your stomach, trembling knees supporting you. He fucks you harder and harder. You’re too exhausted to do anything other than mewl into the pillows while you take it.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.” Joel gasps between grunts and growls.

“Fuck, Joel, cum, please. Anywhere.” You manage to get out, your sentences fragmented.

Soon, Joel is pulling out and cumming all over your ass. From your spread kneed position, you can feel his cum start to slide down your asshole, dripping off your cunt while you wait for him to finish.

He breathes a long breathe, and you hear, “Gimme a sec.” And you feel him climb off the bed.

You’re content to stay like that, with your ass in the air, his cum drying on your skin while you wait.

He comes back and cleans you up thoroughly and finally you collapse to your stomach.

You’re too tired to get up, so you lie there with your eyes closed while Joel walks around, shutting the door and turning the lights off.

You maneuver under the covers when he lifts them for you and he settles in besides you. You immediately huddle against his warmth, resting your cheek against his chest and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your hair.

Your jaw stretches into a huge yawn. All self doubts have been fucked out of your head.

“Was that what you wanted?” Joel mumbles, sleep dragging at his voice.

“It was perfect. Exactly what I needed.”

“Good.” He hums.

There’s silence, but just as you’re about to fall asleep, a thought pops into your head.

“Oh, by the way, I kinda have a date with Chris.”

A/N: I worked really hard on this, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Any comments welcome. Thanks for reading :)

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #my writing #joel miller

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casspurrjoybell-24 · 1 month

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The Alpha's Boy - Chapter 29 - Part 1

Book Two In : The Alpha's Trilogy

I saw Doctor Victor the next morning and he told me everything I had already known.

That the mating process had healed any scaring that was in my throat.

He had shown me old X-Rays and took another one where the scar tissue was now gone.

I felt relieved but there was still a part of me that was confused.

Why did I need to mate for this all to happen?

Why didn't it happen when I first phased.

A part of me knew that some questions wouldn't get answers and I was okay with that but at the same time, I knew it would be something that bothered me for the time being.

I sat in the quaint, popular Village Cafe.

I knew everyone here but yet I still felt like a stranger as I watched Riot walk over with our coffees in his hands, smiling as he set mine down on the table before taking his own seat.

"This place is beautiful," he commented before taking a sip of his coffee and humming in satisfaction.

"What time did Ivan say he was coming?"

I looked at my cell-phone for the time and gave a shrug.

Ivan didn't know about my voice and I didn't want to speak in public yet, the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

Everyone knew I was mute, I was the Alpha and Beta''s son, I didn't get much privacy when I lived here.

I was lucky to get away with half the shit I was getting away with before being sent to the farm.

"Should be any minute. he's not normally late," I mumbled, my eyes darling to the counter where two teens were chatting, neither of them paying attention to Riot and myself.

The words were hardly out of my mouth when the door chimed and I looked over to the familiar face of my best friend, Ivan.

He had dyed his hair a dark-green colour that had lhighlights and black roots, almost reminding me of a pop singer, I had seen on Twitter.

In true Ivan fashion, he didn't care what he wore, with a long marron skirt and a black vest over a darker shirt and tartan pants.

Everything he wore always looked so odd, yet so fitting, like nothing he wore could go wrong.

I stood up once his head turned in my direction, it was like a funny movie, Ivan let out a high-pitched sound before running over and hugging me, nearly lifting me off my feet as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"I missed you so much. You look so good, Starfall. Gosh, you tan really well when you actually leave the house," Ivan commented, looking me over as he took a step back, with a playful smile.

Riot chuckled at the comment, causing Ivan to turn his head and look at him.

Ivan gave my mate a once over, before smiling and holding out a manicured hand.

"Ivan."

"Riot," he said, with an amused look on his face.

It made my heart jump in my chest, a bit.

I sat back down at the table and Ivan was quick to pull a seat up beside Riot so they could face me.

"Tell me everything."

'I wouldn't even know where to start,' I signed but as soon as I finished Riot cleared his throat, his eyes telling me that he wanted me to speak.

He wasn't rushing me, I knew that but he also didn't want me to hide the fact that I had a voice now because as scared as it made me, he knew it made me excited too.

I wanted to shout from the rooftop, speak to everyone, rub it in but I was nervous.

I took a deep breath, I rubbed my hands on my knees, Ivan could see it, my nerves.

He looked at me, lifting a brow, waited for me to start signing, telling him what was bothering me but I never lifted my hands.

"Did you know when you get mated your old injuries heal? Because I didn't."

I watched as Ivan's eyes widened and Riot rolled his eyes.

"Jeez Starbright. How long have you known?"

"Well, I just told you I didn't."

"You know what I mean."

I bit my lip for a second before shrugging.

"Nearly a week."

"We had a phone-call just the other day. Are you telling me, you could talk the whole time?"

I nodded my head.

"It's not as big of a deal as it seems. Big whoop, I can talk. It's not like my voice was a totally fore-run to anyone. I can talk when I phase. Which by the way, I'm itching to do but besides that, it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Ivan started.

"I know about the threat. Ellis told me. Think about it a little bit. That's one less thing they can hold over your head. Lucca has no holds on you anymore or Charles Maverick for that matter."

"I wouldn't say that they have no hold over me, just nothing physical," I interjected.

Ivan fell silent after that, I guess the realization of what I was saying was hitting them.

Yeah, Charles and Lucca had no physical bond to me now, that was great, I was happy about that, I didn't really think about that, I'll admit that but they still had a hold of me, of my wounded soul.

I still saw them when my eyes closed, when I was alone I could hear their laughter, their taunts.

I may not have any scars to show it but it was all mental.

I mean, I wasn't a drug addict for no reason.

"I want to run," I said, looking towards Riot, he nodded.

We spoke with Ivan for another few moments and then I gave my best friend a hug again before leaving with Riot and making our way back to the small space we were temporarily calling our own.

The back yard went to another street, unlike the house I shared with my Dads that opened into the forest.

We both changed into a pair of shorts, leaving our chests bare as we walked to the path that took us to the clearing.

I gave my Dads a quick text, letting them both know we were going for a run because as much as I had wished this to be a nice visit home, my life was still in danger somehow.

We walked in a comfortable silence until we made it to the clearing, I could sense the guards around us, hear their footfall in the distance.

I hated the idea of being watched, I mean if it was this easy to keep eyes on me at all times, why didn't my dads just do this instead of sending me away?

Not that I was bitter about that, my eyes fell towards Riot and I questioned.

How long would it have taken for us to meet if I hadn't been sent to the farm?

Would he have come here at some point?

Would I have gone to visit for the funeral?

I couldn't see me going to say goodbye to Nana, if I didn't know her and if Darren didn't want to push me.

I would have just stay home and gotten high.

What would have happened?

"You're off with the pixies, again, Starlight," Riot said, pulling me from my head.

I rolled my eyes, taking my shorts off.

"Yeah well, I've got a lot on my mind."

"I can always help you clear your mind. 'We have the technology'," he said with his cute little smirk, again.

I rolled my eyes but I smirked back at him as he dropped his own shorts and soon we were both running off into the woods.

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 2 years

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Superheroes with Secrets: Shannon Finds Where He Belongs (Fic Part 190. Set in 2002)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor @thedollmaker16

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/‘Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

For what seems like half the book, Helms has no face. It isn't until a couple pages from where Shannon's left off that he has a face again. Much older now. Looking like he does in the present day. He's still happy in all the drawings, still in various states of undress. A few pages later, Helms is no longer alone in the drawings. Kirby's with him, looking like some kind of angel. The two of them are breath-taking, just the way Shannon sees them.

"You like both of us? I thought you detested me, oh, come here you," she whispers, pulling Shannon into a tight hug, "I don't hate you, mon petit jouet, I just thought you only cared for Helms, I didn't want to get my feelings hurt so I decided to just have it be me and Shane because I felt I was getting too attached to you, hence why I kept pushing you away."

"I could never hate you… you saved the man I love," he whispers, "you remember that day, probably two months ago when you were making chocolate chip pancakes and singing in French to Lilith?"

"Yeah, I remember, why?"

"I was watching and listening for a long time. Had to pretend I had just walked in when I did, but I had to be there for… hell, close to ten minutes. That was the day I figured out you mean as much to me as Shane does."

"Oh you blonde little beastie, Shannon. Look, I don't hate you, at all, but you need to talk to me, more than you do, if you need anything, as long as it's not sex, I don't really care if you get off to thoughts of me or Shane, it's not like I can control your mind."

"I don't even need sex," he shrugs, "I went without for a long time and in desperation, my hand works fine. What took me out at the knees was thinking that everything was okay and I was getting welcomed in a little more and might even be a part of the family, but…" he closes the sketchbook and shoves it back under his pillow, "… doesn't matter. I'm an interloper. That's how you see me and I've made my peace with that."

"You are part of the family, I was actually gonna ask Shane if you could be Lilith's godfather."

"You mean that?"

"I mean it, there's no one I'd rather be Lilith's godfather, it would mean a lot to me if I could count on you to be there for her," Kirby pauses, wiping tears away from her eyes, "oh jeez, look at me, being the fool and crying over shit I shouldn't be crying over."

"Kirby, I'll be there for her every day. Every day you let me, and probably a few days you don't."

"It's taken me a long time to even trust Shane, but believe me when I say this, I trust you… can I put this necklace on you?"

He nods and bows his head, lifting his hair out of the way. She puts the necklace on him, kissing his forehead softly as she pulls him into another hug.

"I won't take him from you. And I won't take you from him." He assures softly.

"Thank you, I would pick you up and make you snuggle with me and Shane, but I am pregnant and he would tell me off for lifting you."

"Hell, I would too. That's my goddaughter in there." He smiles.

"C'mon you little blonde punk, come snuggle with me and Shane, you can talk to Lilith then."

"That sounds like a damn good time."

"We can have a group conversation with Lilith, even though she can't talk back, I'm gonna get some chocolate milk, maybe even some chocolate mousse too. Would you like some chocolate mousse, Shannon?"

"That sounds really nice, thank you."

"You go talk to Shane, I'll grab us the hoard of chocolate and then I will return, okay?" She asks, the French accent slightly heavier in her voice.

"I'll be ready and waiting."

Kirby messes with his hair before going to get as much chocolate as she can from the fridge.

Not quite certain in his actions, Shannon crosses the hall to the master bedroom, "I talked."

"Shane, hug him or I'll slap you in the dick." Kirby calls from the kitchen.

Helms pulls him into a tight hug, letting so much of the stress leave Shannon's body.

"Looks like I'm not banished." Shannon chuckles, a little wetly.

"You were never banished anywhere except from naked play." Helms murmurs, tucking Shannon's hair behind his ear.

Kirby returns with her hoard of chocolate, "he is gonna be Lilith's godfather and I will not take no for an answer, mon mari… also, we have a lot of chocolate."

"I was never planning on saying no. There's no one I trust more to take care of our girl if something happens to us."

"Good, now, we snuggle and eat as much chocolate as possible."

"I will have a chocolate food baby." Shannon declares, opening the first bar.

Kirby snuggles with the two men, keeping Shannon between herself and Helms, "you can talk to Lilith if you want to." She whispers as she opens a bottle of chocolate milk.

"Can I… can I touch your belly?"

"Yeah, go right ahead, she moves a lot when I'm relaxing."

Shannon reaches over and rubs a circle, "hey, kiddo. I'm your Uncle Shannon. Gonna be your godfather too. As long as your Mama decides I'm a good egg. Cause I think I am. And even if she doesn't, I'm still gonna love you."

"You are a good egg, wouldn't trust you if you weren't a good egg."

"Let's just hope you keep thinking I'm a good egg."

"Keep talking to the baby, both of you… Shaney boy."

"Well, me and your Daddy grew up together, more or less. I knew him when he was skinny and short."

"You were skinny and short too."

"You're both skinny and short."

"Hey!" Both men protest, grinning.

"Ooh, feisty… but I'm right, you're both skinny and short." She chuckles.

"Only compared to you. And I don't know if you noticed, but your boy is growing to be one-hundred percent pure Carolina beef." Shannon smiles, patting Helms' bicep.

"Just North Carolina beef though, Daddy Hurricane is pure North Carolina beef."

"Hardly any fat left on him anymore."

"His ass is still nice and fat though, I can still grab a handful of the booty."

"So I'm still a fat-ass?" Helms laughs.

"Yes, but only the ass." Kirby nods, blushing a light pink and realising what she's saying.

"I'm glad you like it." He grins.

"It's a damn fine ass, and you know it."

"Hell yeah I know it. I do more than plenty squats for it to be nice."

"What do you think of my ass, mon mari?"

"Think it's damn near perfect."

"Thank you, mon mari."

"Oh now you guys are just being mean," Shannon laughs through a mouthful of chocolate milk, "all this ass talk, and I can't even play with them."

"You can touch, just no sex, if it's alright with Shane."

"Yeah, it's alright with me."

"Feel free to grab a handful of the booty, we won't stop you… I just thought of something I consider really dumb but slightly funny."

"Mm, tell us." Shannon grins, reaching over to grab a handful of Helms' ass.

"Don't you two think it's weird how Matt's middle name is Moore and Shannon, your surname is Moore, spelt exactly the same way."

"Sounds like a conspiracy to me." Shannon laughs.

"First time I heard it I started questioning if he was a Hardy or a Moore, or perhaps both… it would be like if Shane's actual middle name was Hardy, he fits in with them so you'd question it, right?"

"You're right, that would have been weird."

"It would also be like if anyone had the middle name Roussimoff, because that can't be a first or middle name, and it would be awkward for me to meet them if I knew about it."

"What if we gave one of our kids that middle name?"

"You want to give one of our kids the middle name Roussimoff, are you sure?"

"Maybe. If we run out of goth names."

"If we run out of goth names, Shannon, do you think we'll ever run out of names?"

"I don't see it happening, but I also know how obsessed he is with your belly, so that might not be a question for me." Shannon teases, making Helms' cheeks go pink.

"Are you obsessed with the bely, mon mari?"

"Well, it was supposed to be something Shannon kept to himself…" he glares with pretend rage, "… but yeah. I guess you could say being around you has given me a… pregnancy kink."

"Two words no woman wants to hear together, pregnancy and kink, and no, I am not letting you constantly get me pregnant just so you can get off." She murmurs, slightly taken aback.

"Jesus, no, not what I mean!" He squeaks, "I just mean I'm enjoying your pregnancy now in ways different than I expected. I thought I'd just be getting you, but with bigger tits and a higher sex drive, but it's different than that. Sure, I like both those things, but seeing you become a mom… you've got a glow. That glow just… makes me happy. Maybe kink isn't the right word, because you are hot and looking at you does get me riled, but you always have. I guess it's more like… an emotional kink. One that'll be fulfilled every day you're a mom, which, God willing, will be every day for the rest of our lives."

"Ah, yeah, kink was the wrong word, my love, but I see what you mean, and if me being a mother makes you happy then feel free to enjoy it, after all knowing that you will be by my side throughout everything makes me happy, as does the idea of watching you with our kids."

"I don't know if it's a physical attraction or an emotional attraction, but Shannon's right; I really do like your belly. I just don't know if it gives me a penis boner or a heart boner."

"Hopefully the belly gives you a heart boner and my higher sex drive gives you a penis boner."

"I think that's it. That's probably it."

"The other way around makes me feel weird, cause our first baby is in there and I don't want to think about that giving you a boner."

"No, Lilith isn't the one giving me a boner. That'd be weird and if it ever happened, I need you to cut my nuts off with a rusty cleaver. What I do think it is is that your belly is round and soft, kind of like your tits, but lil Shane is easily confused by round softness."

"So lil Shane just goes off what he knows and that's usually just 'ooh, soft' and uses the same logic as with tits?"

"That's why I get so excited when the pancakes are really fluffy." He jokes.

"Lil Shane is just heavily attracted to soft things." She chuckles softly.

"I can't help it and neither can he."

"Would a nice soft blanket excite you?"

"… depends how soft."

"So technically the answer is yes."

"I guess, but no making fun of me for it."

"I won't, it just lets me know how I can get you riled up whenever I don't have the words to describe my love for you."

"I'm easily riled." He shrugs.

"I'm so glad you don't know how to instantly turn me on."

"I think I could figure out a way."

"If you do figure out a way to instantly turn me on, we'd never get out of bed."

"Well, I can always wiggle my lil fanny, try to get you going."

#superheroes with secrets #shane hurricane helms #kirby roussimoff #blacklight bandit #orange and green - the perfect team #shannon brian moore #sws #kirby andrea roussimoff #delilah keshet rosenbaum #gregory shane helms #jeffrey nero hardy #matthew moore hardy #lita hardy

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wwalkingdread · 3 years

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Can you do a Marlon x reader where the reader was sent there as a student, and them and Marlon have been best friends since they first went there. Fast forward now that the apocalypse happened they are dating and the reader is the type to hold their temper in and are extremely nice, but one wrong move and it turns to a shit show. ( it’s why they were sent there) A new group member judges their boyfriends leading and they lose. Their. Shit. And Marlon has to comfort and calm them down. (But it’s not a stupid amount it’s like they say SOEMTHING that would make you genuinely angry) thanks ♥️

❥ Picking Fights

Characters: Marlon

Description: Marlon’s partner has a hard time controlling their temper when a newcomer starts insulting their boyfriend.

Warnings: Cussing, reader tries to fight somebody

Notes: This took SO LONG I had it written briefly for AGES in my notes but AAH everything has been so busy </33 Sorry if this feels rushed?? I’m mostly writing it to show that I haven’t quit completely </3 I didn’t really know what to do with this little newcomer character just pretend you did whatever you wanted with them. Maybe Marlon could send them away <3 Anything for his babe <3 Haha, enslavement <3

You and Marlon separated, a kiss lingering on your head before you two parted. You and the newcomer, Alfie, made your way to the picnic table, slightly damp from the night's rain and moss clinging to the base of the wood.

Alfie, who had thick black hair and dark eyes, has been finding themselves struggling to settle for a while. You didn’t want to express your ill feelings toward them since you were in a rather respected position you took seriously, but something about them rang wrong. Perhaps you were just paranoid, not used to strangers, especially ones a decade older than the rest of you, Alfie nestling in their mid-twenties or so.

Alfie perked up, lips pursed, “I didn’t realise you and him were dating.”

You flushed, a smile blooming on your face, “Oh, yeah… We’ve been together for a long time actually.” You giggled, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked down at your feet, “We used to be in the same classes and we’d pass notes to each other all the time. We’d draw these shitty pictures too and they were God awful. We’d get into trouble because of them all the time because we were twelve and stupid.”

Alfie rolled their eyes, propping their head up with their hand, “You’ve known each other for a while then, I take it… So, when did this become a thing then?” They vaguely gestured between the two of you, and you looked over your shoulder and watched Marlon conversing with the others, hands on his hips.

“Not that long after shit went wrong, actually… I think it was a case of ‘just in case one of us dies you should know’ kind of thing, but we’re both still here.”

Alfie released a bitter laugh from their throat, finger tracing shapes on the wooden table, “It’s nice you two can thrive considering what happened to the others…”

Your lips dipped downward, “… Yeah. It’s… Unfortunate.” You weren’t sure what to make of their tone. You two suddenly fell quiet, Alfie looking down at the wooden table in front of them. You leaned slightly on the table’s surface, gulping thickly at the silence.

Alfie rose their head suddenly, snapping out of thought, “I mean, how many people were here? Thirty eight?” You jumped at the sound of their voice.

“Forty two.” You corrected.

Alfie whistled at the number, making you raise a brow in their direction, “Jeez. So you’ve lost, what? Twenty… Thirty…” They started counting on their fingers, “Thirty one? It’s only a matter of time before you run out of people here.”

Your lips pressed tightly together, going thin as you thickly swallowed with your jaw clenched. “We’re doing fine.” You said quickly.

Alfie’s laugh sounded closer to a scoff, “You lose, like, five people every year. In two years you’ll run dry.”

With their eyes treading over your shoulder, they continued, “A good leader wouldn’t have even lost one.”

You bit back a snarl, but you felt your lips twitch, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Your smile wore thin,

“Marlon obviously couldn’t handle leading that many of people. I mean, what made him the leader to begin with? Because he’s the oldest?” They waved their hand dismissively, “He’s just a kid who hit a growth spurt. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“What do you know about leading anybody? Whoever led you guys didn’t do a great job, considering they’re all dead.”

“We didn’t lose thirty-or-so people, that’s for sure!”

“Because you didn’t have that many to lose! Stop acting like you know shit about us.”

“I’ve known him since the beginning. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Alfie raised their hands defensively, a wire-like, uneven grin on their face, “I’ve seen my fair share of groups, you know. I’m just letting you know that there’s an issue here.”

“There’s an issue here alright.” Your knuckles began turning white from how hard they were clenched, your muddy fingernails boring into your skin, “One that’s asking for a black eye.

They laughed, eyebrows quirked, “Are you serious…?”

“Very.”

Alfie found themselves on their feet, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Not worried to make me another addition to your ‘grave yard’ are you? You’re just that used to losing people, aren’t yo-?” Your hand found its way to Alfie’s hair, tangling itself in their curls as you tugged then roughly to your side, strands tearing off alongside your fingers as you released yourself. Alfie raised their arms to defend themselves, but before you could land a hit you felt two hands on your shoulders pulling you back.

“Woah, woah. What’s going on?” Marlon asked firmly, fingers digging into your collarbone.

“This bitch-! Keeps running their fucking mouth-!”

“No.” Marlon’s hand was now tightly wrapped around your arm, “No, we don’t do that here. Come on.” His firm grip led you astray, pulling you toward the school, his forceful action making you stumble over your feet when you got to the stairs. Your cheeks burned, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent.

“Marlon, for fucks sake..!” You complained as he led you to his office, where he sat down, a groan escaping his lips as his elbows rested on the desk, fingers at his temples.

“I don’t know what happened out there, but…” He exhaled, pausing, “that isn’t the way to go about it.”

You scoffed, “Are you fucking kidding me, Marlon? I won’t sit there and let them tear you down like that.”

“Listen, I really appreciate it, but-“

“No! No fucking buts, no nothing! They don’t know a damn thing about any of us, especially not you. I’ll die defending you, Marlon. You know this.” You crossed your arms tightly against your chest, “You should’ve let me wipe that smirk off their face.”

“What am I going to do with you…?” He muttered, leaning back in his chair as he looked toward the ceiling, frosty eyes glazing over with thought. You kicked at the floor with your boots, grumbling,

“You’ll let me stick up for you without you telling me off like a little kid.” You argued. You chewed on your lip, licking at the raw skin. Marlon’s chest jittered with a bitter laugh, finding himself sitting forward and moving to his feet. “You might as well be, throwing tantrums like that…” he taunted, and you flushed.

You could see his boot-clad feet make their way toward you and you felt yourself getting consumed by his warmth, his arms wrapping around you, calloused hand placed at the back of your skull.

“We work through this together.” He said softly, hand running through your hair, “This anger. We don’t let it get this far. We talk.”

You nestled yourself deeper into him, “I know… But God, they just…!” You waved your hand around, struggling to find the words,

“I know.” He said, a smile gracing his lips at your frustration,

“I know I get pissed too… I start breaking shit or hitting things… But when I talk to you I don’t feel like that anymore.” He kissed the side of your head, his ears turning red, “I just hope you can feel the same with me.”

“You know I do, I…” You felt a space grow between you, pushing yourself away so you could look at him, frown thick on your face as you picked at your fingers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you, Marlon. I just wanted to show my respect for you.”

He snickered, “Hey, c’mon.” He rose a brow, folding his arms, “How about instead of talking to me like a leader you talk to me like your boyfriend?”

You chuckled, looking down at your feet, “I’m trying to talk to my boyfriend and he’s being an ass about it.” You said teasingly. You two fell into a comfortable silence, Marlon’s eyes falling onto your features. His hands slithered under your jaw, making you look up at him, a grin plastered on his face.

You turned red as you swatted him away, straightening your back, “I’m not apologising.” You stated as he sighed.

“I figured as much.” He scratched the back of his neck.

With your brows furrowed, your jaw clenched tightly, “No, seriously. I don’t know what their problem is but-“

Marlon said your name sharply, causing you to hold your breath, “You’re going to get yourself worked up again.” You blinked, sighing as your lips fell downward,

“Sorry.” You said.

Marlon stepped forward, brushing away the strands of hair that fell over your face, “You’re getting better at this, y’know. We all have our moments.” His hand burrowed in the curve of your waist, holding you securely, “If this keeps going we’ll figure something out, but right now let’s just… Make it about us.” His voice trailed off as his breath hit against your face, lips meeting yours for a brief moment

You pulled away, lips brushing against his as you spoke, “We'll have to go down for dinner.” you laughed.

“Then let’s just stay here until then.” He grinned, “Want to tell me about what made you laugh so hard when you were hunting? I could hear you when you were on your way back.” He poked your ribs, making you giggle, “You’re lucky you didn’t cause any dead-heads to close in.”

“Ugh, alright.” You groaned with a grin, plopping yourself on Marlon’s desk as he found himself back at his chair, feet up as your hand placed itself on his ankle, fiddling with his shoelaces. You completely forgot about your incident with Alfie, but if it happened again… Marlon might let it slide…

#twdg hc #twdg s4 #twdg #twdg marlon #twdg x reader #twdg marlon x reader

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kanos · 3 years

Note

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

prompt for vik x v thanks

will actually die for you gina - hand in marriage pls

------------

Viktor hardly looks when he hears the door open and continues watching the fight on the screen in front of him. There’s shuffling on the steps and another louder noise that draws his attention, to which he turns in his stool and stands. Someone is hurt and his blood runs cold as he tries not to imagine who it could have been. Silently prays his next patient isn’t a skimpily dressed woman with long purple hair and a beautiful face.

What might be every man and woman’s dream, was his nightmare.

He instantly moves towards the door when he hears his name called and Jamie comes into view on the other side of the metal gate, blood coating her side while her hand covers the wound, putting his fears to reality. He pulls it open and catches her as she falls against his chest, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“Fuck, V.” He groans as he lifts her up, carrying her to the operating chair, wincing as she cries in pain when he sets her down. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Jamie laughs shortly, hissing after, but still manages to give him a smile. “What’re you talking about? I’ve done nothing wrong, ever.”

Vik sighs and does a quick scan even though he knows he doesn’t need to, yet, he couldn’t be so careless if something else was wrong. “Bullet is still lodged in your side. I’m gonna have to take it out.”

“Oh, good. Just make sure it doesn’t hurt, okay Vik?” Jamie lays her head back and closes her eyes, taking a breath as he touches her side.

He shakes his head and frowns as he gets to work, fixing her up as safely as he can. He’s worried about the blood loss, but according to his scan, she wasn’t fairing too terribly. She stays quiet while he’s focused, but he can feel her watching him every so often and pays her no mind.

“Okay. You should be good.” He moves to the computer and carefully keeps an eye on her as she sits up. “When will you stop being so reckless with your life?” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he did.

Jamie just laughs and runs a hand through her hair. “Jeez, Viky. Got bills to pay and food to eat. Clothes to buy. Biz is biz. I got shot, you fixed me up. I get hurt, I give you more biz.” He watches her for a moment and she sighs. “Thank you, by the way. I’m glad you were here.”

“Next time, I might not be. Next time, I might not be able to save your ass, so be safer about the jobs you take. I don’t need you dying on me.” He can’t keep his eyes off her as she stares at him and he watches as the weight of his words settle in. He hadn’t meant for them to hurt, but they were true and she needed to understand that he couldn’t handle seeing her die.

“I know.” She whispers and reaches out to place her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Vik. I’ll be more careful about it.” The tender moment is gone however when she lets go and rolls her eyes. “The fuckin’ bastard came up behind me, I didn’t notice him. This is why I usually go with Jack, but he had other plans for today.”

Viktor hums and turns his attention back to the computer. Silence falls over them again and he can feel her eyes on him once again, but he wants to finish up before he gets side tracked anymore than he already was. Constantly taking care of Jamie wasn’t what he had planned for his life, but he admits he does enjoy having her around - if only she could keep it that way. It had been some time since she last showed up to his shop, but he hopes next time it won’t be like today.

He starts going over the costs with her - although he’s sure she isn’t going to be able to pay him today, but he wasn’t going to turn her away for that - when he stops and stares back at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jamie sends him a smile and a softness in her gaze he feels he doesn’t see often. “Just thinkin’ I might be in love with you.”

“You sure that bullet didn’t damage anything else, V?” Vik jokes, but he can tell that she isn’t just being herself and flirting with him - or rather, she is, but this time felt a little different. He shakes his head and clears his throat. “‘Preciate it, but think that's a pretty gonk idea you got there.”

She throws her legs off the operating chair and moans as her feet hit the floor. Without really thinking about it, he turns and steadies her, his hands finding their place on her hips. “Bullshit.” Jamie whispers, pain in her voice but he can’t tell from what. “Why is it so hard for you to believe? Why do you think I come by so often?”

“Telling me you got shot just to see me? I’m honored.” There’s no humor in his words, but she laughs anyway. “Come on, you need to rest.”

Viktor leads her around the table and passes the other computers to where there’s a dark and secluded area with a couch. He helps her sit and stops when she takes his hand, pulling his palm up and holding it against her cheek, which is warm and soft against his skin.

Her voice is low as she catches him off guard with the next thing she says. “You don’t know how bad I want to fuck you right now.”

“Jamie.” He warns, but he can’t really deny her that. It’s not like he hasn’t ever thought about it, but always chose to keep her at arms length. Clearly, whatever he was doing wasn’t exactly working.

However, she only smiles as she releases his hand and adjusts herself on the couch. “But the doc is right. I should rest.” Jamie leans back and smiles sweetly at him. "Thanks again, Viktor."

"Last time." He says almost automatically, but he doesn't mean it. There will be more incidents and he will fix her up with no complaints.

#idk it came to me... its soft #oc: jamie voss #otp: vik x v #viktor vektor #viktor vektor x v #*fic #ginadotjpg #v: im just tryin to bang / vik: no #this is 1k??? i'm movin up yall #whatever its not great but here have it

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years

Text

bad day | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj has a bad day and he just wants to be with you

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of abuse, sad jj, fluffy ending (ofc)

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

3.5k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

To the outside world, JJ Maybank has a perfect life. He has the best group of friends, he parties all the time, he has all the freedom in the world, and most importantly, he has you.

To the outside world, it is practically impossible for JJ Maybank to have a bad day. How can you have a bad day when you have a perfect life?

The only person in the world that knew that bad days are actually a common occurrence in JJ’s life, was you.

When the two of you had first started dating over a year ago, you too had believed that JJ’s life was perfect. His outgoing personality and carefree nature were what initially attracted him to you and he fought hard to maintain that persona. It wasn't until three months into your relationship that you realized that the blonde boy had it so much harder than you could've possibly imagined.

Truth be told, JJ didn't open up to you on purpose. In fact, if he had it his way, you would have never had to see him break down the way that he did.

You didn't know what to do when you first found your boyfriend laying on the bathroom floor in the Chateau, body shaking with sobs. At first, you thought he had been in another rough quarrel with Rafe and his friends. But when he looked up at you, tear stains on his cheeks and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, you knew this wasn't just some run-in with a couple of kooks.

It didn't take long for you to get over your original state of shock and comfort the boy. Your younger sister had bad anxiety and experienced panic attacks often, and still, you found yourself on the less prepared side when it came to soothing the blonde you adored so much. It was hard for you to understand that the tough, wild, teenager that you had fallen in love with was simply a cover for the fragile boy inside.

You can still vividly remember sitting on the bathroom floor for hours with JJ. Despite your unfamiliarity with your boyfriend’s suffering, there was not one second that you had even remotely questioned your love for him. If anything, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your appreciation for him grow.

JJ himself, on the other hand, did not know how to accept the comfort you had given him. He was so used to being alone every time he was feeling down. So used to hiding all of his emotions from the people around him.

The two of you went through many difficult nights of him pushing you away and trying to block you out. But just as fast as he was building up his wall, you were tearing it down.

JJ doesn't know the exact moment when he allowed himself to succumb to your solace. Still to this day, it's hard for him to believe that someone as beautiful and compassionate as you can possibly love someone like him.

The more he let you in, the harder it was to be without you and now, whenever he had a run-in with his father or was unsure of himself, his first impulse was to call you.

You never hesitated to comfort the boy, knowing that he would do the same for you. And as much as you tried to stay strong for JJ, sometimes everything got to be a little bit too much.

JJ will never forget the day you were holding him after a fight with his father and you couldn't hold it in anymore. You let out heart-wrenching sobs into his hair. The sound alone brought tears to his own eyes and the two of you held each other all night, whispering sweet nothing to one another.

JJ is having a bad day.

He should have known when he woke up this morning and you weren't in his arms. He glanced over, immediately recognizing your small handwriting on a blue sticky note which was stuck to your pillow. The note explained that your parents had asked you to come home, but that you would come back to the chateau to be with him that night.

have a great day and don't miss me too much lovie!

His heart fluttered at your sweet words. How did he get so god damn lucky? Popping open his phone case, JJ folds your note and sticks it inside, just in case he needs to read it again later.

Despite the loving feeling he got in his chest while reading your note, his day quickly went downhill.

When JJ opened the cabinets above the sink to make himself a bowl of cereal, they were empty. He brushed it off and went to work with an empty stomach.

At the hotel, a group of kids bumped into him while he was clearing a table and he dropped a wine glass on the floor, shattering it. His boss chewed him out for 30 minutes before putting him on dish duty for the rest of his shift.

After work, JJ went to the local market and used his tip money from the day to buy a sandwich and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for you. He knew you would make a big fuss about him spending his money on you, but he loved to see the cute look of surprise on your face whenever he got you something like this. It made whatever he had gotten for you worth every penny.

On his way back to the Chateau, JJ was stopped by none other than Rafe, Topper, and Kelse on their bikes. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing that you hated when he got into fights, but as soon as Rafe mentioned a snide comment about your ass, JJ immediately threw the first punch. He didn't realize until after the fact that one of them had stomped on the flowers he bought for you.

As much as he hated it, the blonde boy knew he needed to go home to get a fresh pair of clothes. He could always ask you to get a pair from the drawer of his clothes you had in your room, but that would require telling you what had happened and he didn't want to be a bother while you were with your family.

He knew he was screwed when he arrived at his “house” and saw his father's truck parked in the dirt outside. JJ hoped that he would be able to slip by without being noticed, but his horrible luck from the day continued.

His father was in the stage of his drinking where he was drunk enough to be angry with his son, but not drunk enough for JJ to outrun him.

JJ’s cheek throbbed on his walk back to the Chateau and he was sure that he was sporting a fresh black eye. His ribs were sore as hell and the only thing that kept him moving was the thought of seeing you.

When he arrived at John B’s house he instantly took note of your missing car. He prayed that you had simply walked and that he would see you laying on the couch when he entered.

There was someone sitting on the couch, but it was not the person JJ was looking for.

“Dude,” John B said when he noticed JJ’s figure standing in the doorway. “What happened to your face?”

“Where's (Y/N),” the blonde asked, ignoring John’s question.

“She called and said she wasn't sure if she would make it,” Kie said, drawing JJ’s attention to where she was standing. “Her friend Carlee’s boyfriend cheated on her, so she went to comfort her. She said she tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail,” the curly-haired girl explained.

Glancing down at his phone, JJ noticed it was dead. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted was to see his girl after a shit day, was that too much to ask? He knew first hand your dedication to your loved ones, and he knew it wasn't fair of him to want all of your comfort and love for himself, but he couldn't help it.

You were too nice, he decided. But that's why he loved you so much, wasn't it?

“So what happened to your face,” John B asked again, taking a sip of his beer.

JJ glowered at his best friend. “What do you care,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn't take his frustrations out on John B, but you were his coping method and he didn't know what to do without that.

John B raised his hands in defense, standing up to grab another beer. “Jeez, dude,” he said, “Just asking.”

“Well maybe you should mind your own goddamn business,” JJ yelled.

The brunette boy halted his actions and turned to face JJ. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, voice rising. “You really want to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He definitely didn't. “You know,” JJ snapped, “Maybe if you spent time with your actual friends instead of your fucking kook girlfriend, you would know what was going on in my life.”

John B scoffed “That's rich coming from the guy who spends every waking moment trying to impress a girl who's way out of his league,” he yells.

JJ knows he's right. You were too good for him. But you chose him anyway. Why?

“Fuck you,” JJ sneers, shoving past his best friend and walking out the back doors. He needed space.

You were getting ready to leave your friend's house when Kiara called you.

Carlee was a sweet girl, and her douche of a boyfriend definitely didn't deserve her so you told her exactly that. But this wasn't the first time something like that had happened between them and based on previous occurrences, you figured Carlee would go a week before she decided to get back together with him.

It was times like these where you really thanked your lucky stars that you had found a boy like JJ. The two of you had your moments like any healthy couple, but you knew in your heart that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

You smiled when you saw Kie’s contact. “Hey girl,” you answer in a country accent, giggling at the end.

“(Y/N),” she said and your smile dropped, immediately understanding that there was something wrong. “You need to come to the Chateau right now.”

Your feet skid to a stop and you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Is JJ okay?” you ask her in a rushed tone.

Kie’s voice is shaky when she speaks. “He came over today with a black eye and a bruised cheek and when John B asked about it JJ kind of freaked out,” she explains. “They are screaming at each other right now. (Y/N), you gotta come quick,” you could hear yelling in the background.

“I'm on my way,” you assure her, hanging up. You run to your car, heart twisting in worry. It wasn't like your boyfriend to act like this so you knew something had to have happened.

You drove to the Chateau faster than you ever have before, getting there in under five minutes. The second your car pulled up to the house. You were flying out of your car and running inside the screen door.

“He's outback,” John B says upon seeing you enter.

Your eyes snap to him and they soften at the sight of his distraught face. “You alright, JB?” you ask.

He nods slowly. “I've never seen him like that, (Y/N),” John B tells you, his voice laced with worry. “You gotta help him.”

You nod your head, walking outside to find your boyfriend. You don't have to go far, spotting his hunched over the figure on the porch steps.

Slowly, you make your way towards the boy, and despite the fact that it's the middle of summer he is shivering violently.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately flinches away from your touch. Your heart breaks at his reaction. “JJ, love, it's me,” you tell him softly, crouching down next to his body.

Hearing your voice, JJ lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears and the skin around the right one is hidden by blue and purple. Your eyes scan his face and you take note of the bruise on his cheekbone and his split lip. Your hands itch to remove his shirt, knowing that there are more hidden underneath.

The sound of JJ’s choked sob brings your eyes instantly back to his.

“Oh, J,” you say sorrowfully, opening your arms for him. “C’mere.”

The blonde boy instantly falls into your embrace and you cradle his body tightly. He sobs into your shoulder and you feel a wet patch grow in your shirt. “I needed you, I need you,” he cries into your shoulder.

Softly shushing him, you run your fingers through his hair. “I'm here, J, I'm here,” you tell him, your heart aching for the boy in your arms. You don't know exactly how long you sit there, his hands clutching the back of your shirt tightly.

Slowly, his sobs die down before he is only sniffling every few seconds.

You pull back slightly, tenderly cupping his face in your hands. “Can we go inside?” you ask, gently brushing back the blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead.

JJ nods slightly and you stand up on the porch, helping him do the same. You bite your lip when you notice his subtle limp on the way inside. You notice how quiet the Chateau is and silently thank John B and Kiara for giving JJ the space he needs.

Leading him into the bathroom, you help JJ sit on the counter and you quickly grab the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Opening it, you grab a cotton swab and an alcohol wipe to clean his lip and cheek, wordlessly realizing how many times you've had to do this.

“Why are you here,” the blonde boy asks abruptly. If you weren't paying attention you would have missed his small voice.

“What'd you mean, J?” you ask, continuing your work.

JJ sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks again, slightly louder, but still quieter than you are used too.

“Well, I was leaving Carlee’s house and Kie called me and told me that you-” JJ cuts you off, pulling away from your grasp slightly.

“No, (Y/N),” his tone is harsh but you can hear the brokenness laced behind it. “Why are you here? With me instead of with your friends? Or better yet another guy that can buy you nice things and doesn't have emotional trauma? A guy who's not broken?” he says the word with such hatred that it shakes you to your core.

“JJ,” you gasp, hurt flashing across your features. How could he think that? JJ instantly wants to take it back, but he wants even more to know your answer. “You are not broken, you hear me?” you say, honesty clear in your voice. “Your flaws are what make you, you. I don't need fancy gifts or expensive jewelry to make me love you! I love every single thing about you, JJ Maybank. From your head to your toes. I love you just the way that you are and there is nothing you can do to take that away from me. Ever.” Your voice is strong and serious. You leave no room for argument as you continue to patch up his face.

JJ doesn't speak again letting the words sink in, scared that he will break down for the second time that night. His eyes fall to the floor and he lets you tend to his cuts.

When you are satisfied with your work on his face, you tap the boy's arm lightly and his eyes snap to yours. “Lift your shirt so I can see,” you ask him, not making eye contact. When he doesn't move, your eyes lock with his. “Please, J,” you beg, in a quiet voice, “I need to see.”

The blonde knows he will never be able to say no to you, especially when you ask him that way, so he gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and wincing when he moves the wrong way.

JJ expects you to pity him. To tell him you're sorry the way everyone does. But you simply stare at his injuries, eyes welling with tears. And this, JJ decides, makes him feel infinitely worse.

Your hand reaches out to trace the large, purple-black bruises. JJ shivers at the touch of your soft hands on his skin.

He grabs your hand suddenly, pulling it up to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, using the hand not in JJ’s to run through his hair. “None of that, okay? I'm here because I want to be. And I will always be. No matter how many times you try to push me away.”

You feel hot tears on your hand and you quickly slide between his legs, pulling him back into your chest, careful of the bruises on his ribs.

“I love you,” JJ cries into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything else in this fucked up world.”

“Shh,” you say softly. “I know, lovie, I know. I love you too. Endlessly.”

JJ pulls back at your words, just enough so that he can look into your eyes.

You used to think your favorite color was purple. When you were ten you painted your entire room purple and even bought purple bedding. But the moment you looked into JJ’s cerulean eyes, it instantly became your new favorite color.

JJ looks from your eyes to your lips before leaning forward to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and passionate explaining every emotion the two of you were feeling. No matter how many times the two of you kissed, your heart raced like it was the very first time.

Pulling away for air, JJ rests his forehead on yours.

“What happened today, J?” you ask in a quiet voice.

JJ bites his lip, leaning back slightly. His first instinct is to tell you that nothing happened and that he's okay, but JJ knows you wouldn't believe him for a second. So he recalls his day, telling you every detail. Just knowing that you know, makes JJ’s heart feel a little less heavy. “A-and I bought you these flowers from the florist on main, y-y'know the ones you love, and I couldn't even bring them to you,” he says sadly.

You caress his cheek. “Love, I don't care about the flowers, all that matters is that you're okay,” you assure him, honesty evident in his voice. “And as for your father, you are staying here or at my house from now on and the next time I see that son of a bi-”

JJ cuts you off, grabbing your hands. The last thing he ever wants is his father hurting you. “(Y/N), no,” he says, the vulnerability in his voice evident. “You need to promise me that you won't confront him. I don't want you getting hurt.”

You sigh, knowing how important this is to the blonde boy. “Only if you promise not to go back there unless I'm with you,” you compromise with him.

He nods, kissing your forehead gently. “Can we please go to bed,” JJ asks and you can hear the sleepiness in his voice. Nodding, you help JJ off the counter and the two of you walk to the spare room in the chateau. The two of you climb into the bed. You are still in your clothes from the day, but that is the last thing on your mind.

JJ moves his arms to wrap around your middle but you gently push his shoulder back. “Turn around, J,” you tell him quietly. You know that JJ secretly loves to be the little spoon and you secretly love to be the big spoon. He would never openly ask you to spoon him, but you can read his body language like a book.

He rolls to his other side and you wrap an arm around his bare middle, careful not to hit any of his bruises. You nuzzle your nose into the back of his tanned shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply.

“I love you (Y/N)” your boyfriend whispers, his hand reaching to hold your hand that is tracing his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Always, JJ,” you tell him earnestly. “I love you more than anything.”

The blonde boy falls asleep in your embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

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masterlist :)

4K notes · View notes

bonbonthedragon · 3 years

Text

Meeting You Changed Me (7)

Dad!bakugou x fem!redaer

A series

Summary: When Bakugou leaves an ugly divorce, leaving him as a single dad he never can imagine himself finding love again, not when he was never actually in love. People manipulate and lie and he can’t trust anyone but those close to him and now protect what he has left. But maybe...just maybe he can give her a chance.

Warnings: fluff, very tiny angst? Some suggestive themes

Series Masterlist

(Y/n) point of view

Mornings were difficult.

The sun beamed through the curtains of (y/n)s apartment, making the woman groan and turn over. It couldn’t be time to get up yet, it just couldn’t.

“Mphhhh” she grumbled into the sheets as her alarm rang “yeah yeah, I know.” Her hand hit the top and she swung her legs over the bed, almost hissing when her feet hit the cold tile. It should have been carpet...hers used to be carpet because she hated the cold floors. Her grummy mood didn’t last too long as a familiar feline came rubbing up against her leg. “Hey girl” she whispered, scratching the cats ears as she purred into it. Then the meowing began. Oh jeez. Aki sang as she left her humans warmth and began toward the kitchen.

“I knew you could only be cute for so long”

Walking out the room, (y/n) followed the calico out, who only continued to complain about her lack of food in the bowl. Until she opened the container and fed her did she calm. The old kitty was beginning to lack in weight and she could only eat so much seeing her age. Her nub of a tail waggled happily though and (y/n) was only glad she could provide a roof for the once street cat. At least she can do something right.

Coffee finished, cat fed and hair up, it was time to start the day. She slipped on her uniform and opened the door to the stairs and made her way down stairs. She couldn’t be more fortunate she lived above her work. Though she wished some days she had a helper to open up instead every once and a while, but she chose to hire non because being alone was better. Even with that she couldn’t stand silence, maybe that’s why the loud ass cat running around her apartment still lived with her. But with him gone it just-

Open sigh, go open the cafe up (y/n). Thinking about it does nothing.

Grabbing a window marker and the keys, she opened up shop. The door stood pegged wide while she erased the calligraphy ‘closed’ to a beautiful ‘open’ with pinks and yellows she drew on the glass. Stuffing the markers back in her apron, she headed inside and went to work, setting up every pastry and steaming the machines to be hot for when someone came in. She set her phone to play some Lofi beats and headed toward the chalk board.

She felt her chest ache as she stared at the green board. She chuckled and took out a Clorox wipe and began to wipe it down. Maybe today they would come in and That little boy would want to draw again. So she left it blank. It seemed weird being blank, she never left it blank. Gazing at it for a while she decided to grab a white piece of chalk and get to work. After an hour, with the additional customers coming in and having to attend too, she was now finished and satisfied. On it was just a simple sketch of a Spider-Man outline as the 2-D comical hero soar through the city on his web. She then took out red, blue and colors for the city to then on the board ledge.

“Spider-Man?” A regular customer asked, the old man smiling and raising a brow “never knew you liked marvel”

“As far as Marvels hero’s go, they are the only exception.” She smiled back, setting down the last chalk piece.

“Not even Allmight?” Fuji asked

“Hmmm, well he’s okay too” she shrugged, passing him and filling his cup with a pitcher

She checked her watch. 7:08.

It would be a while until then but at least the place didn’t feel empty.

“MeOwWwW”

Heads turned and so did hers at the sudden muffled sound. Oh lord this cat. Shaking her head (y/n) made her way to the door to the stair case. She must have opened the door again using thee table by the door and walked down. Opening the door the small cat walked out “well hello” she hummed, picking her up gently “who would have thought you’d visit?” The woman sarcastically snarled at Aki, who only mewled back “uh huh, great response” it wouldn’t be the first time she’s gotten out and roamed the shop, so far non of her customers complained. So she let Aki down and she trotted happily to the small cat tree in the corner by the window of the shop. People began to coo and Aw at her.

Well it seemed the shop settle this morning. Nothing to really do. It was just Wednesday after all. Maybe she should be productive instead of cleaning the shop for a sixth time since yesterday....

Before she could even think, the bell to the door rang and a force so powerful ran into her legs that she almost tumbled over. “Oh-“ (y/n) caught herself and held onto who ran into her before they too fell. Tatsumi looked up with big eyes and just snuggled his face more into her leggings, as if he were a cat rubbing on her. God he’s so cute.

“Tatsumi” a low voice called out, soft but in warning

(Y/n) looked up to meet his piercing red gaze, eyes like rubies as they stared her down. The hero was tall and built, it was easy to tell with the skin tight tank top of his hero suit he wore that he worked out often. His steps fell heavy against the flooring as his hand left the glass door and let it shut. With the glare he had on his scared face it was difficult not to know what he was feeling. Was he angry? Never mind, Pro hero DynaMight was always angry. Though it was hard to accept him that way now since seeing him coming into the shop and how he acts with his son.

Tatsumi tugged at her pant leg “Dada said I could come and- and say hi before I go to gradmas and grandpas!”

(Y/n) glanced back up at the man and back at Tatsumi, giving him a smile “oh well that’s sweet, good morning Tatsumi”

“Good morning!” He squeezed her tighter then backed up, giving the woman grabby hands.

Hearing Bakugou grunt, (y/n) looked up, his eyes hadn’t faltered one bit since she began giving Tatsumi her attention. He just kept staring at her. Like she just cussed him out or offended him in some way. With some hesitation and a small confirming nod from him, she bent down and took Tatsumi in her arms. He giggled happily and went to wrap his arms around her neck, giving her a proper hug.

“Ohhhh” she cooed. Gosh this boy was so sweet! “Big hug! Thank you!” (y/n) hugged him back best she could in the awkward position. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek sweetly, and oh did her heart melt. Though when he did she noticed how bakugous frame went from bored and annoyed from waiting to being as still as a tree. His brow slightly twitched and his eyes were wider than before.

Getting the gist, (y/n) put Tatsumi down, but the boys grin left as fast at it had came. She couldn’t help but crouch down and boop his nose, making his furrowed brows soften “looks like it’s time for you to be going,” he frowned at her, not in a mean way, but sad “oh it’s alright!” She reassured “I’ll see you again, but I think your dad has places to be”

Tatsumi turned around and gave his father pleading eyes. (Y/n) almost wanted to shrivel from embarrassment because this wasn’t her child and as far as she was aware she was irritating the hell out of the No.2 hero. She was not about to get caught up in gossip or make someone mad. Bakugous eyes shifted to his child....and the staring contest began. You could almost visibly see the tension in Bakugou crack as the seconds passed. Tatsumi wasn’t giving up, she didn’t think he would. After a good minute Bakugou sighed and took out his phone. He glanced at it once before huffing, going to sit on one of the sofas and cross his arms almost in a childish way.

“Ya got 10 minutes” he gruffed

Tatsumi ran up to him and planted his hands on his fathers knees “hour!” He shouted back

A vain could be seen on the hero’s head as he leaned forward and became eye level with the smaller blond “15”

“50!” he protested

Bakugou growled slightly, still not threateningly but more to himself, like it was hard for him to say no to the kid “20”

Tatsumi whined from the back of his throat and bounced up and down impatiently. “40!” At this point (y/n) just guessed that he had learned his numbers high enough for this argument, he was the age Ren had began counting high.

Bakugou clenched his jaw, not blinking once as he stared down Tatsumi. Then he leaned back, legs spreading to get comfortable, making Tatsumi’s hands leave “30 minutes and that’s final” he said

Tatsumi beamed and jumped up and down. She didn’t think he knew exactly how long that was but it was more that 20. He climbed on the couch to kiss his fathers cheek, just as he did (y/n)s. “Tank’ you!” And Bakugou grumbled a small ‘welcome’ under his breath, helping Tatsumi off the couch and ruffling his hair a bit before he took off.

What just happened...?

She didn’t have time to process until Tatsumi had grabbed her hand and led her to the chalk board. “This is what you want?” She asked. He nodded his head eagerly.

“S-sp’ire man!” He pointed and squealed

She chuckled and showed him the chalk already laid out, telling him to have fun. Just like that he began to color in the sketch, just as she had planned. She even went to get the stool so he could get higher and reach what he couldn’t. After a few minutes of watching she glanced at the blond across the room, who was watching Tatsumi until his eyes met hers. His face seemed to turn from it pale tan to a light pink, quickly turning his head away and lips tugging to a frown. Okay rude. All she did was look at him.

As much as she was hesitant about him, she didn’t want it to be awkward like this if he was willing to bring Tatsumi by all the time. It had been a good 3 weeks, almost a month and still she hasn’t had a proper conversation with the hero. Seeing as tatsumi was busy and there were no new customers, (y/n) went over behind the counter. Unbeknownst to her, red eyes were watching.

She moved around the back and set down two coffee cups, pouring in the espresso. Soon she followed in the cream and didn’t bother making a design for times sake. Grabbing the two mugs she went toward the couch. He didn’t dare look at her the whole time she walked over and set down the coffees.

“Ya own this place?”

(Y/n) hummed

“Ya always let cats in your cafe?” He grumbled

(Y/n) looked over at Aki, who slept in the sun by the window “only her, shes good though. The customers don’t mind her so I let her down.” She sat next to him on the other end of the sofa, crossing her legs and leaning against the arm rest. Silence. As much as she wasn’t too fond of him, she found herself getting annoyed he didn’t want to talk to her. “Uh...it’s nice of you to let Tatsumi come by.”

He grunted

“He’s really sweet, never met a boy so energetic and happy”

He rose a brow, “yours not that way?” He asked, generally wondering.

She shook her head. “No...he wa- he’s rather shy, doesn’t talk much.”

“Tatsumi can’t stop talking” he looked over at his son “does this thing where he has to narrate everything he does when at home. Even though he’s potty trained, for a while now, he still has to scream ‘ima go pee!’ Then he runs to the bathroom.”

(Y/n) broke into a fit of giggles at that, not noticing how the blonds eyes immediately left his son and snapped to her. When she looked back up though he instantly looked away. She fixed herself and sat back straight up, taking a sip of her coffee, he did the same.

Bakugou was about to open his mouth for his own question before the door rang, a customer. An officer walked in and he shut his mouth, knowing she had to take it. The barista stared at the man for a couple seconds before actually getting up “be right back” she reassured.

A million alarms were going off in her head as she went toward the counter, eyes never leaving the officers. He seemed pretty timid as well and it was obvious a tension was clouded around them. Bakugou went over to sit by Tatsumi, which was closer to the counter.

“How may I help you” (y/n) nearly gritted out, tapping the screen

“Miss (L/n)-“

“I thought we were done with this, so either order something or leave.”

No one would dare speak to a member of the police like this, they would be arrested. But this man was rather...familiar with the her.

He lowered his voice and leaned in “We have a lead on Asher, it’s not a good one. In the course of a separate investigation with one of our undercover hero’s, your name was mentioned by him, as well as your late sons.”

She felt her heart drop at his name, Asher. It had been so long since she heard that name and she was planning to keep it that way. A lump caught in her throat and she looked down, brows furrowing “I- I don’t know who your talking about. Please leave.”

“Miss-“

She gripped the counter and shut her eyes, whispering harshly “This is my cafe, and unless you have a warrant or something then Please leave.”

“I really think you should just hear me out-“

“Please” she looked up at him “not today”

The man stood for a couple more seconds before nodding his head. He had nothing else, he already felt guilty enough. So he tipped his head and left.

“Have a good day, miss (L/n)”

“Have a good day” she responded, tone not so cherrie. She turned to go back to the the couch, but Bakugou wasn’t there. Instead he had moved to be by his son.

“Sorry about that” she tried to smile as she crouched down by him and leaned slightly against the wall, Tatsumi still at it with the coloring. She shifted her attention to him, hoping to keep what just happen out of the way “it’s looking amazing, Tatsumi”

His little head whipped around and he smiled wide “tank you!”

Truly it was disastrous, the red and blue sneered outside of the lines and nothing was where it should have been. But it was his work and seeing him enjoy it was making her day ten times better. As she got lost in her thoughts Tatsumi’s hair began to turn a auburn brown and became a bit taller.

Ren looked back at her and his bright blue eyes glowed brightly in the cafe light. He stood on his tippy toes and bunnie stuck in his other arm.

“Mama” Ren smiled

She blinked rapidly as his hair went back to ash-blond and his shirt turned into a dark purple. His eyes were ruby red and she was looking back at Tatsumi.

“Miss (L/n)!” Tatsumi repeated

(Y/n) blinked a couple times before smiling again, nodding her head to show he had her attention

“Look!” And he pointed at the chalkboard

She looked up and saw that he had successfully colored the whole thing. She smiled and went to ruffle his hair a bit, making the boy giggle.

“That is amazing”

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore another pair of red was piercing through at her.

—

his hand began up her thigh, the other cupping her cheek “come on, (y/n)”

(Y/n) held her hand over his over her cheek, tangling hers in his “ash i-“

His other found her left cheek, blue eyes starring straight into hers as he kissed her hard. He pulled back “you’ll be fine babe~”

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#bnha x reader #fanfic #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #kpop scenarios #brother's best friend!au #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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hawksugarbaby · 3 years

Text

Loki x reader-

Lamentis - 1

Smut

Chapter includes: Angry fucking, knife play-ish, slight blood play, hair pulling, choking, degredation (giving + recieving), sucking on fingers.

You panicked as you and Loki sprinted to a tiny shack to haul up in, his hand wrapped around your wrist in a vice grip to move you out of the way of the falling debris but your panic was batting with your irritation. Of course he brought you here, the once place you had an overly high chance of dying as the world caved in above you and meteors struck the ground lighting up craters under your feet.

Loki ripped the door open pushing you inside and slammed it closed behind him. You huffed and held your knees trying to catch your breath as Loki watched the world end from a tiny window then walked over to you holding your face gently. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” he asked, checking for anything from a minor cut to a broken arm and you shook your head pulling his hands off of your cheeks and turning around. You growled in annoyance at your situation and your fingers curled into a claw shape signaling if he wasn’t careful with his words he would be choked to death.

“DID YOU EVEN LOOK!” you shouted but you were still facing the wall, knowing you would feel guilty if you turned around, it wasn’t his fault you ended up here but you wanted to be angry because of where you were. If you turned around it would be impossible to be angry.

“Look? Look at what?” he asked, his sapphire eye’s drifting below your waist to look at your ass jiggle when you impatiently tap your foot. And he resists the urge to grab the soft flesh and pull you towards him.

“At the temp-pad! We’re stuck on Lamentis-1 you Idiot!” you hiss and spin around again feeling the sting of your own words that he didn’t show any hurt towards. However you didn’t need to see his reaction to tell they hurt.

Loki blinked and stepped forward, flicking his dagger from his sleeve and pressing the tip to your neck. “I could kill you.”

His words are an empty threat and you know it but you can’t help but tempt him and toy with him. Spill the anger until it floods into his cup and you argue then makeup with a soft kiss you wouldn’t want from anyone else. The best kisses are after the worst fights when you’re desperate to make it up to each other because you’ve missed holding his hand or he hasn’t braided your hair in too long and he misses the feeling of your soft locks weaving between his fingers.

“Go for it then” you whisper and lean forward, digging the point of the blade slightly further into your neck, moving away from drawing blood. “You’re highness.”

It’s filled with venom, the way you say his title and it’s probably the reason he moves so quickly pushing you against a wall and switch the position of the blade so the whole edge is lying on your throat and Loki’s leg is wedged between your thighs his other hand slammed against the wall next to your head caging you in. “Don’t call me that” he growled.

You try to avoid moving, knowing his leg is dangerously close but you need to shift the weight from your tippy toes to the heels of your feet, accidently grazing your clothed pussy on his thigh and you mewl quietly at the contact. your face begins to burn an electric pink and you turn your face away looking at anything but Loki. surely he didn’t hear it. It’s impossible it was so insanely quiet so no he couldn’t have heard it.

The cold, flat, metal of his dagger pressed against your cheek and turned your face towards him, a light dusting of pink gracing his cheeks and a smirk pulling on his lips. His hands slipped down to your waist pulling you down so you were straddling his thick thigh “Oh dear pet it seems you just can’t stay mad at me can you?” he purred in your ear and you watched your reflection in the blade, witnessing your pupils dilate and red creeps up your cheeks while your chest heaves in and out and he pushes his thigh against you drawing a soft whine. “You sound pretty like that.”

His laugh is smooth like butter and you swallow thickly “you think I sound pretty anyway” he twirls your hair around his fingers and let’s the knife drop slightly “you couldn’t kill me anyway. You love me too much” you roll your eyes and he grins leaning forward to catch your lips between his. You warp your arms behind his neck leaning further into the heated kiss grinding on Loki’s knee for friction.

His hand curls around more hair innocently until it’s gripped and pulled back yanking your head backwards. a string of saliva connects your lips and your unmatched panting fills the room. “We need to leave” he reminds you, turning your head toward the small slit for a window in the metal and pulling your hips closer to his bulge straining against his trousers and you bite back a moan.

“We wouldn’t need to leave if you’d looked at the fucking temp-pad.”

Before you could blink Loki’s hand was wrapped around your neck squeezing the sides and you were robbed of air. His other hand fumbled with his gleaming belt buckle and unzipped his torn trousers, singed around the cuffs from the heat of the meteor impact. “I think we have time. I am an idiot though so how would I know” he hissed hiking up your short skirt and ripping your opaque tights to reveal your soaked underwear. “Aw look at you darling your dripping just thinking about me” he hummed.

You coughed and he loosened his hand around your neck still keeping it there, his thumb running up and down gently. “Sorry love I’m actually thinking of fucking Judge Renslayer behind the bar” you tease back and he growls rubbing his other hand against your folds and manouvered his fingers around the fabric of your underwear dipping into your cunt. “A-ahh~ you’d love that wouldn’t you hm? Want me to cockwarm you behind the bar while you're on trial, with everyone watching. Just a pretty whore for everyone to see” his cock twitches in his boxers and he pulls the grey fabric down releasing his length from it’s constraints.

The tip of his cock hits his stomach making a wet patch on his white shirt and you reach for it immediately. Loki swats your hand away earning a glare in betrayal and he chuckled heartily “what? Does my slut want my cock? I thought I was useless? How could I make you feel good, pet?” he shoots your words back at you only for you to reach for his cock again. His hand tightens around your neck once again and he pins you back against the wall. “Cat got your tongue?” he snickers.

“No I just don’t think I should waste my words on someone who got us stuck in an apocalypse” you croak, words dripping with poison that could corrode the blade of his knife that was now laying on the floor. His fingers slowly pumping inside you ran up your slit and his thumb ran circles around your clit making you quiver against the wall and he pulled your underwear to the side lining up his cock with your entrance.

“How lucky I didn’t want to hear you talk anyway” his cock pushed inside you quickly and he let go of your throat grabbing your hair instead and pulling back your head. You gasped for air gulping down breaths and his cold lips travelled up your throat leaving a dark plum mark on the base of your throat.

He thrust slowly, the edge of your lacy underwear dragging along his cock as your soft walls enveloped him forcing a groan. You moaned loudly and gripped his shoulders pushing your hips forward to swallow his whole length. “Fuck Loki~” you sang dropping one of your hands to rub your clit. “You're so big oh jeez” you moan. He smirked to himself and began to thrust faster at an even pace earning gentle whines with each thrust of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut unwilling to see the satisfied look on his face knowing he’d got what he wanted, your submission and your silence and you could envision the shit eating grin on his face as he pummeled his cock into you ruthlessly taking out all the aggression you’d spoken into him on you.

“Am I still a disappointment? It sounds like you approve of me after all. I fear there’s been a miscommunication?” he growled nibbling on the lobe of your ear.

You lolled your head to the side whimpering into the humid air. “Y-you haven’t made me cum yet. I don’t… I don’t think someone as incompetent as you could do such a thing a-anyway” you gasp through heavy breaths and Loki’s thumb brushes the front of your neck making your breath hitch and your words catch in your throat.

“Aw sorry pet I wanted to be gentle with you and take my time but I see you don’t deserve that today” he flicks his hand out and in a puff of green smoke the dagger flies into his hand and up to your throat. “What a cute little whore you're being for me” his finger swipes over the gleaming blade that was inches away from taking your life. Every time Loki thrust into you the blade slipped and slightly grazed your skin, a pearl of blood trickled down your neck and if you didn’t love the god in front of you with your whole heart you’d fear he’d take your life.

“I’d argue you’re the whore, taking me here at the end of the world even when we’re at each other's necks. Such a slut” you bite.

Loki chuckles and shakes his head resting in the crook of your neck while still drilling his cock into you. Your stomach began to feel tight and your moans were breathier, higher pitched, more frequent.

“I disagree darling this feels very fitting” his gentle tone is a break in the waves for you to swim and you roll your head back to look at his sapphire eye’s and brush the hair plastered to his forehead with sweat off of his face.

“Maybe your right” you whisper leaning in to capture his lips with yours and the fine edge of the blade dug slightly further into your flesh drawing dribbles of red along the dagger. “Would you still kill me if you could?” you wipe the red staining the lapels of your blazer, the remaining trickles meeting between your cleavage, made apparent by the plunging neckline of your dress.

“Why would I do that when we can have fun like this?” he chuckled and thrust his hips harshly to emphasise his point.

You can see your orgasm dangling on a frayed string in front of you. Just one more string.

One more push.

One more cut.

“Coward” you hum. Your eye’s dance with mischief and Loki still’s leaning closer to you but removing the knife from your neck. If he punishes you, he can do it himself without a ridiculous knife.

“Speak up pet I’m not sure I heard you?” he laughs, dragging his hand between your breasts and smearing the blood further down your chest. His hand latches to your breast and you gasp at the gentle massaging of your breast, his rough fingers tweaking your nipple, staining the swell of your chest red. “I thought I heard you call me a coward.”

You chuckle followed by a moan as his hips slowly restart pumping into you. “Oh wonderful, your hearing still works.”

He growls and shoves 2 of his fingers in your mouth, the salty metallic taste of your blood clinging to his skin and he drills his hips into you at speeds only a god could achieve. Your stomach crunches and your eye’s roll back, searing hot pleasure rolling over you and vision going white. Velvety walls clamp around Loki’s cock and he grunts struggling to move with you sucking him in. he takes his fingers out your mouth and grips your waist after wiping the digits on his jacket “darling if you keep this up i’m going to- FUCK” he shouts in response to you rutting your hips towards his desperate for his cum.

“Come on your highness you wouldn’t want to let me down now would you” you pant. He grunts slowly rocking his hips against yours with your walls fluttering around him and his jagged breath tickles your cheek. The thrusts begin to slow and get sloppier, untimed and you roll your hips to meet his lazily.

“Where?” he asks bluntly.

You shake your head closing your eyes and rest your head backwards on the wall speaking into the air. “Don’t care” you moan lewdly and a string of curses leave Loki’s lips.

“I’m cumming” he groans stilling his hips inside you as he shoots thick ropes of white cum into you painting your walls white.

You both catch your breath and hold each other to your chests clinging like safety nets. Loki pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his trousers admiring his cum seeping out of you. “Are you quite satisfied?” he asks, glancing up at you leaning against the wall.

“Of course I am. You always leave me satisfied love” you drop your skirt back down so it covers mid thigh and shuffle over to him. “You know I don’t mean what I said yes?” you stroke his cheek gently and he nods, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Of course darling. And you know I’d never kill you” he reassures you, not that you needed the reassuring in the first place but it’s comforting that he feels the need to tell you. “Let’s leave the knife out of it next time however” he nod’s to your neck waving a hand over it to fix the wound.

you shrug and chuckle “I don’t know I liked it” you pull at your ripped tights sticking to your thighs and fix your underwear “any chance you can do something about the mess you made” you giggle. He begins to raise his hand before his eyes go wide watching outside the window and he pulls you toward him turning so he was covering you like a shield as a blast of heat went off around you.

“Can it wait until we escape the apocalypse?” he asks in a hurry, opening the door and guiding you out by the small of your back.

You nod and rip off the tights completely feeling as though you’d be more comfortable walking around in no tights than sticky ripped ones. “Definitely” you say and both take off in a sprint.

#loki x reader #loki #mcu loki #loki series #loki disney+#loki show #loki smut #smut

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