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buckys-wintersoldier · 8 months

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“Fuck me.” | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary -> Bucky always tries to decide about the guys you go out with, and when you tell him to fuck you in an argument he doesn’t hesitate to do what you want him to do.

Warnings -> Minors DNI, 18+, smut, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), chocking, bit of size kink, jealous/ possessive!Bucky, teasing, slight degradation, using the word slut

Wordcount -> 2.4k

Request -> 1. Enemies to lovers 2. Jealous Bucky 3. Possibly a combination of 2, 3, 10, & 12 or just any of the ones selected @sadisticlyme

A/N -> Thank you so much for that request, I hope you like what I made with it. My requests are open, you can also request for the “Bucky Barnes Smut Menu” or my “1-Followers Special” (you can join that if you want to) Divider made by @firefly-graphics. Also thank you to @sergeantbarnessdoll for helping me to find those pictures.

Prompt -> Bingo of your own | I3 | Free Space | @thebo3bingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Smut Menu | Bingo of your own | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Fuck me,” you shout through the room.

You’re staring at Bucky; your jaw clenches and your hands are into fists. You hate the way he acts around you, like he could decide about the boys you hang out with.

Not really sure why you told him to fuck you instead of telling him to fuck himself, you run your fingers through your hair and wipe a strand out of your face.

Bucky chuckles sarcastically and walks a few steps closer. You’re in front of the kitchen counter, and he walks until he reaches the kitchen island, which is opposite you.

“I would love to,” he says and smirks at you, his hands resting on his hips, and he leans his upper body forward. “Wanna go into my room and let’s have some fun, doll?"

Your eyes widen when you hear those words leave his lips. The brown-haired man is just a few inches away from you, and he walks closer, coming to a halt when there is only space for a piece of paper between your bodies. Bucky towers over you, his hands finding their places on the kitchen counter behind you.

“Do you want me to stop, or are you already dripping for me?” Bucky mumbles into your ear, his breath warm against your neck, and you shiver slightly.

Of course you’re wet; his body is against yours, and the way he is talking to you can only lead to soaked panties. But you would never admit this to him; otherwise, he would probably fuck you right there and then, and he would win the discussion about the guys you always meet, which aren’t as good as him. And he is right, but you hate him for trying to get away from every guy you like, so you don’t let him push his dick inside of your already wet pussy yet.

“What’s going on here?” Steve suddenly asks, and Bucky walks a step backwards, turning around to his best friend.

“She thought it was funny to joke around,” Bucky says, shrugging, but you know he is smirking mischievously.

Then he turns back to you and walks a step closer again. His hips thrust forward, and you feel his growing member in his pants. He presses his dick against your leg, making you gasp quietly.

“Right, doll?” he asks, but you’re too much in your thoughts to respond to his question. Bucky grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his steel blue eyes. “Joking around, huh?” he repeats.

You nod and try to turn your head away. The intense stare feels like he is looking into your souls, like he would find out that you’re unnaturally wet because of him.

You breathe shakily, trying to get your thoughts of his hand on your body under control. You can’t help but feel the arousal between your legs growing, soaking your panties completely. You hate Bucky so much; he is always so flirty with everything but tries to control the people you go out with. But on the other side, his jealous and possessive side turns you on beyond belief, which doesn’t help your wet cunt.

But as well as his way of controlling the guys, you always have those annoying arguments. He is jealous of everyone and tells you things about the guys you don’t want to know before your first date with them. Or it’s because he tries to get you angry; sometimes you feel like he loves to see you being mad at him; he always smiles and pushes you until you shout at him. And mostly you’re wet then, turned on by the way he talks to you and acts or touches you.

Bucky turns back to his best friend. His hand touches your body softly, and you feel the goosebumps appearing on your skin. Then you finally find some words to show him how angry you are because he thinks you’re joking around.

“Joking around? You fucking annoy me,” you growl. He laughs in response, and you can’t stop yourself from getting more angry.

Sometimes you really don’t get the way you’re angry and needy because of him at the same time. It’s like you're mad at him, but your pussy knows you want him. The imagination of his dick sliding through your folds until he pushes inside of you and fucks your rough is always in your mind when the two of you have an argument.

When he is standing next to Steve, he faces you. The smirk on his lips says he knows about your little problem between your legs.

“Bet you’re dripping because of me. Your little pussy wants my attention, starving for my touch and especially with my dick between those tight walls. You’re a little slut, my little slut, but you try to deny that. Trying to fuck yourself with your fingers, trying to get what I can give you,” Bucky says, and you immediately blush, looking down at your hands.

Steve’s eyes widen when he looks from his best friend to you. You swallow hard and press your thighs together, trying to stop the arousal between your legs. But the way Bucky talks to you, the way he is acting like he didn’t say he would love to fuck you, let your cunt drip even more.

“Bucky,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s direction and punches his best friend softly.

“What? Can’t a man have a bit of fun?” he asks, rolling his eyes, annoyed.

Steve sighs, looking at you, then at Bucky, before he turns around and walks out of the room. He definitely needs some training after Bucky tried to get you into bed and said filthy things. Bucky leans with his back against the wall, still smirking at you.

“Need some help, or do you think your little fingers are enough for your pussy? Mhm? Do you want mine, I bet you can’t take them,” Bucky says.

You groan, annoyed. You’re not sure if you want to leave the room and go back to your room to give yourself some pleasure or if you want to cook something. You feel Bucky's eyes roaming over your body; his stare lets you shiver.

“You think you can do better than my fingers? Not even a bit,” you tell Bucky, deciding to go into your room.

Bucky laughs, tilting his head slightly. You both know that your fingers are not as good as his, not depending on his skills, but his fingers are bigger, like he is.

“I think they are, yes. The women underneath me always screamed my name when they squirted all over me,” Bucky says, pushing himself up.

He is like a tiger who catches his prey with the way he looks at you, but it’s enough for you to feel smaller than you’re when you’re around him.

“I would prefer to call one of my dates instead of letting you fuck me,” you say through clenched teeth.

You don’t prefer that, but your little game is just too funny to stop the teasing. You see Bucky's jaw clenching; he furrows before he starts laughing.

“Oke, fuck them, but you’re thinking of me, aren’t you?”

You look for your phone, tap something on it, and put on the loudspeaker. It doesn’t take long for the guy to pick up your call.

“Hey, do you have time? I would like to meet you today,” you say, looking directly into Bucky's eyes.

“Of course, do you have condoms, or do we need some?” he asks, and you hear the anticipation in his voice.

“I have some here,” you tell him.

Before the other guy can say something, Bucky rushes over to you, his hand gripping yours with the phone, and you turn your phone towards him.

“She doesn’t have time for you. She is mine, and you better don’t get too close to her again, understand?” Bucky says it angrily.

Your date mumbles something in confusion, but before he can say something, Bucky hangs up and takes your phone to place it on the kitchen counter.

“You pushed the limits,” he groans, his hand finding your hips, and he pulls you closer.

You gasp, placing your hands on his big biceps. He smiles when he sees your small hands wrapped around his big arms. Your little body in front of him and the way his hands capture your hips with his large fingers.

“Do you want me to stop?” Bucky asks, his hands sliding your sides up and down.

“No, please. I need you,” you mumble under his intense stare.

He smiles and lifts you up before he turns around and places you on the kitchen counter behind you. His eyes wander down your body until he reaches your covered cunt, which is pressing against his growing member.

“Mhm, won’t fit properly. It’s too huge for your little pussy, isn’t it? You can’t even take my fingers; you're so small,” Bucky says with a smile.

He adores the way you look so small in front of him and especially underneath him. His hand slides over your stomach, slowly underneath your t-shirt, and he shoves it higher to expose your belly.

Then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and shoves them together with your panties down. Bucky takes a step back and throws them next to him on the floor. His eyes are immediately on your dripping cunt, and the smirk on his lips grows.

“You’re dripping,” he says, his hands sliding along your thighs and up to your cunt.

His hands are soft, and even when one of them is out of vibranium and it’s cooler, you like his touches on your soft skin. Bucky spreads your legs and kneels down, inching closer until you feel his breath against your bare pussy.

“Bucky, please,” you mumble, arching your back.

“What do you want me to do, doll?” he asks, kissing along your thighs.

“Fuck me, please.”

Bucky chuckles and slides two of his fingers through your wet folds. He looks at them, licking your slick off of them, before he lowers his head and kisses your wet pussy.

You moan, gripping his hair to push him further against you. Bucky's tongue glides through your folds until he reaches your entrance. He teases you, kissing along your thighs once more before he kisses your pussy again and pushes his tongue into you.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” you moan, arching your back and placing your legs on each side of his head on his shoulders.

You press your legs together and Bucky more into your cunt; his skills are way better than you thought, and you feel something in your stomach growing, a feeling that is way more pleasurable than ever before. Bucky feels you clenching around his tongue, and he lets go of you.

“Please, I was so close,” you whimper, sliding one of your hands between your legs to bring you over the edge, but he stops you and pushes your hands away.

“Don’t touch yourself when I don’t tell you to do it. And don’t dare to cum before I allow you to cum,” he groans.

He lowers his head and neck between your legs, letting his tongue play with your clit and dipping inside of you before you almost reach your orgasm again. Then he lets go of you and stands up.

You’re just a moaning mess underneath him, and his dick is rock-hard, but he wants to show you what he can give you with just his fingers and his tongue. So he leans over you, admiring your small body again, before his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing slightly.

“You look so pretty,” he tells you, leaning closer to kiss your lips softly.

“I will look prettier when I cum, so fuck me,” you say, pouting.

“I really need to fuck that attitude out of you, but before I do, I will give you my fingers to cum over them,” Bucky says with a smile.

His fingers trail along your stomach until he reaches your pussy. Bucky slowly slides them between your solder, covering them in your slick, before he reaches your entrance and circles it. You push your hips more against his hand, causing his hand around your throat to tighten a bit.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper.

Bucky does what you want; he pushes one of his fingers inside of you. He groans when your tight walls immediately clench around his big finger.

“My needy little slut, soaking but so fucking tight.”

You moan when he adds a finger and moves them deeper inside of you, curling them before pulling them out of you. Bucky looks into your eyes when he pushes his fingers back into you and hits your sweet spot. Your eyes roll back, and you arch your back. Your hands grip his arm around your throat, and you squeeze it.

“There you are,” he mumbles, and he finds the spot inside of you again.

Bucky pushes his fingers with every thrust against that point. You breathe heavily, feeling your orgasm growing in your stomach.

“Please, please let me cum,” you whimper, clenching around his fingers and moving your hips against him.

“Cum, doll. Cum all over my fingers,” he demands.

You moan, his fingers hitting all the right spots inside of you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside of you, thrusting them faster.

“Cum, now,” he repeats, and you do.

You cum all over his fingers; you’re squirting. His name leaves your lips when you make a mess all over his fingers and his shirt. Bucky towers still over you, smirking about the way your eyes roll back, your moans leave your lips, and the way you arch your back when you cum. He loves it, and he definitely fucks you until you squeeze his dick and let him pump you full with his seeds. Bucky fucks you through your orgasm before he pulls his hand out of your pussy and sucks his fingers clean.

“You made a mess all over me, doll. But you taste good,” Bucky smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his. “You still think your little fingers are better than mine?"

You shake your head. Bucky removes his hand from your throat, and he helps you sit up on the kitchen counter. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Yours are way better,” you smirk. “But stop being mean when I have a date.”

“I’m not mean anymore, because you're mine now,” he tells you, picking you up before he walks out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

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raz-writes-the-thing · 8 days

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Ashes to Ashes (Beetlejuice One-Shot)

Betelgeuse x GN!Reader / 18+ / requests are open

Summary: Beej does not love it when you talk to strangers at the bar. He likes it even less when you laugh at their jokes.

Fic type: smut

EVERYTHING: @winchxters @calliopesdiary @xxxsugarcyanidexxx

BEETLEJUICE: @im-eating-rn (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Not so fuckin' funny now, huh?" BJ snorts, fingers wrapped around your throat just the way you like. He's got a cigarette dangling from his lips- something that he only does when he's feeling dominant, feeling possessive. When he wants you to think he doesn't care. It's just an act, of course, and if you were to ask him to stop, he would but he knows you like it when he plays mean.

He is mean, technically.

"F-fuck, Beej, I'm sorry," you gasped between short breaths. Fucking hell his fingers felt good on your throat. The added chill of his skin just set your body off with tingles.

"Were his jokes funny, babe? Funnier than mine? What, think he can make you cum harder than I can, huh? Please, you'd be fuckin lost without me an' my magic fuckin' fingers buried in that cunt."

True, but he'd be lost without you, too. That's what this was, a display of his affection in his own fucked up way. In your way, too.

"Look at'cha, fucked dumb already and I've barely even touched you. Bet if I held on tight enough you'd cum over my hand on your throat, wouldn't you?" He snorted again before snapping his fingers with his other hand- suddenly, you were sat on his moth-eaten lounge, his hand still caught tight around your windpipe. He had you on his lap, straddling one suit-striped thigh.

"Go on, then, fuck yourself dumb on my leg, babe. Y'know y'wanna." A slick smile slid across his features as he pulled your face closer so he could plant his tongue on your cheek and trail it up the side of your face. "I know y'wanna, too, dollface."

His fingers loosened to allow more air through your windpipe and you sagged against him with the rush of it. Not that you couldn't breathe before, but you just felt giddy with the rush of it.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips against his thigh, delighting in the jolt of pleasure that rolled up your spine. Betelgeuse took another puff of his cigarette, looking almost completely unbothered.

"What, that all you got? Jeez, what d'I even keep you around for, eh?"

His nonchalant attitude and mean words should not have turned you on as much as they did, and neither should the way he exhaled his cigarette smoke in your face. But it did. You felt a bloom of heat unfurl in your lower belly.

"Gettin' off t'bein bullied now, huh, babe? Interesting," he inhaled once more. Blowing it out the side of his mouth, he added, "Yeah, don't think I didn' notice that. Y'can't fuckin lie to me, babe."

Unconsciously, you chewed on the inside of your lip, in thought over this revelation. Beej sighed exasperatedly as he reached into your mouth and pulled your lip from the confines of your teeth.

"Don' do that- now, if you're done fuckin thinkin', hurry up and make yourself cum if you wanna keep daddy happy, baby."

You didn't need to be told twice. Picking up the pace, you rolled your hips against the smooth fabric of his trousers. BJ threw one arm around the back of the couch and held his cigarette in the other. He watched you, looking almost bored as you brought yourself to a whimpering mess for him.

He may have been trying to appear bored, but he could never hide that adoring little glint in his eye when he was truly enamoured by something you were doing. Rolling your hips and losing yourself to pleasure you were creating for yourself was something he could never get used to watching, but he sure did want to try.

"C'mon baby," he sighed, flicking the ashes so they fell over your flushed skin. "You can do it, yeah. Fuckin' cum for me."

You whimpered, hand reaching out to grab at his clothed bicep. Betelgeuse clicked his tongue but didn't remove your arm, watching as your movements grew jerky and your moans cut off in soft hitches of breath.

Another roll, two, and sparks shot from your nerve endings. Your thighs tightened around his own and Betelgeuse's hand slid down from the back of the lounge to curl around your hip, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

You groaned, hips slowly coming to a stop. You leaned forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck as you panted heavily with the comedown.

Beej reached around your neck to take one last puff before he put out the cigarette on the back of the couch like the grub he is. You peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses to his relatively cold skin, and he turned to pull you into a proper kiss.

"There now see," he grumbled, though the quirk of a smile told you he wasn't that upset any more. "No more fuckin talkin' to guys at the bar, babe, yeah?"

"Yes sir," you answered, tired and sated.

#beetlejuice x reader #Betelgeuse x reader #Betelgeuse x you #beetlejuice x you #beetlejuice fic #Betelgeuse fic #beetlejuice smut #betelgeuse smut

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pearlessance · 2 months

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Locked Doors - Idle Threats [ii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — You leave your front door unlocked. The devil invites himself in.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt

SERIES MASTERLIST

[crossposted to AO3]

In truth, Joel is glad to be rid of you.

Not because he didn’t enjoy himself, but because he’d enjoyed the night with you too much. The two of you had fallen into an easy, respectful energy for the remainder of your watch.

Joel discovers you’re quite funny when he isn’t the butt of all your jokes. And he knows you’re beautiful, painfully so—but when you smile at him, truly smile, it lights up your whole face and ignites a warmth inside him he can’t explain, that he doesn’t even want to think about.

So, yeah, it’s a bit of a relief when the next two watchmen take over and you go your separate ways. Joel sleeps real heavy that night, more relaxed than he’s been since he set foot in Jackson.

Until Tommy knocks on his door that afternoon, that is. The moment Joel opens it his brother asks, “What the hell did you do to her last night?”

Joel feels his anxiety spike. Tommy knows him better than anyone else, and he’s not sure why he thought your tryst in the tree blind would ever be kept secret. And he knows he shouldn’t lie, but he’s too embarrassed, too afraid of his brother’s judgment. So he shrugs and says, “We…had a conversation.”

“Conversation?” Tommy laughs and shakes his head, pushing into Joel's house. He sits at the kitchen table beside Ellie, who’s shoveling a bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Nah. Nah, I don’t believe that.”

Hesitantly, Joel asks, “Why not?”

“That girl has been a pain in my ass every single day. Someone has a complaint about her, or she’s hollerin’ about something or other. Never does as she’s told—fights Maria and I on everything.”

You listened to him real well last night. Joel resists the smirk that tugs on his lips.

Tommy continues. “So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when she comes knockin’ this morning asking Maria if she can take the rest of Mike’s shifts. After she threw a big tantrum about having to cover one of them.”

No. No. Joel’s mouth goes dry.

He can’t spend another night with you. He can’t. He’s not strong enough.

Ellie’s brows furrow together as she looks between the two brothers. “Who?”

“Strawberry scone,” Joel supplies with a casual wave of his hand.

“Oh, my future wife,” Ellie corrects. Then she turns to Tommy with a scowl. “Be nice when you talk about her.”

“She ain’t nice,” he counters.

Joel remembers how nice you’d been, begging him for mercy, begging for his hands, his mouth, his cock. How nice it sounded when you apologized to him, using that warm, wet tongue of yours as a weapon. He swallows. “We just talked. That’s all.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t push the subject and Joel’s grateful for it. Instead, he says, “Yeah, well—maybe y'all can have a conversation about her giving Maria a break. She’s been back from that run for a month and she still won’t even talk to her. Maria’s tried, but she pretends she can’t hear or see her. Like she’s invisible.”

Ellie chuckles but quiets herself with another bite of eggs when Joel turns and scowls at her.

It’s a valid concern, Joel thinks. Maria and Tommy have been good to the people of Jackson, have been good to you. Given you a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, the protection of monitored walls. All in exchange for a little physical labor.

Joel doesn’t know what happened on that run for Maria’s barbecue flavored chips, but he understands being angry. Complete and total silent treatment is a bit harsh, however. And for weeks at a time? It’s childish, absurd—bratty. He gives his brother a reassuring nod. “I’ll…see what I can do.”

Tommy thanks him, steals a forkful of Ellie’s eggs, and bolts out of the door as she yells after him.

Once he’s gone and the noise has quieted, the panic begins to set in.

He can’t be in there with you for another night. Joel knows he has to do something, find someone to cover his watch. Maybe Bonnie will be willing to switch him for a day or two. Just until Mike returns, until Joel can control his errant desires.

“I’ve got some stuff to get done today,” he tells Ellie.

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, just…don’t go far,” he says, evading her question. “And don’t go alone, either. Stay with Dina.”

He half expects her to make some witty remark, but she must see something in him that stops her. Ellie nods slowly and asks, “Everything okay?”

No, it wasn’t. Not even close. But there’s no subtle way to explain his turmoil, no words to make her understand that Joel was currently at odds with himself and his morals. That perhaps he’d damned himself, damned you, all for a single night of perfect bliss. So he shrugs and says, “Fine.”

Bonnie’s house is a short walk from his. And when she opens the door, Joel can see her son lying on the couch in the living room. His cheeks are red and he’s got his thumb in his mouth, staring off into space. He can’t be older than four, and Joel begins to feel guilty before he can even say a word. “Joel? Everything alright?”

God, what was with people and that question today? Joel looks away from the little boy on the couch and instead at his mother, who has the same blonde curls.

He has to ask, doesn’t he? He has to. This is about more than just his peace of mind. It’s about your safety. Safety from him. And you deserve that, after all. Being a brat doesn’t mean you deserve to be preyed upon by an older man.

So, Joel swallows and forces the words out. “Hey, Bonnie. I was just wondering if maybe you could switch with me tonight. I’ll take your watch today if you’ll take the night shift.”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

Her green eyes soften, and Joel knows the answer before she speaks. “Oh, I…I’m sorry, Joel. It’s just that Sammy is sick, and…and I feel bad enough being gone all afternoon, you know? And I don’t want to leave him during the night. You can understand, right?”

He nods quickly, not wanting to make more of a scene than he already has. “No, yeah, of course. Completely. I’m sorry I asked.”

They say their goodbyes, and Bonnie suggests that he ask Greg instead.

But that thought unnerves him even more than being alone with you himself.

Greg is older than Joel by almost ten years, pushing sixty-five. And he doesn’t think he’s that type of guy—but Joel didn’t think he was that type of guy until he’d been left alone with you, either.

Maybe he’s wrong, though. Maybe Greg has more morality. Maybe he’s not as bad a man as Joel. Maybe he has more resistance to the forbidden fruit.

Maybe you’re safer with him.

It’s because of that particular thought Joel winds up on Greg’s porch.

And Greg gives him that same sympathetic look Bonnie did, and Joel’s back to square one. “I’ll ask around, though,” Greg says. “See if anyone else is willing.”

Joel thanks him, and busies himself in the stables, in the armory, in anything that keeps his hands busy and his thoughts far from you. He sends a prayer to whatever god may exist, hoping Greg will find him and let him know someone is interested in his shift. Not that Joel would be deserving of forgiveness nor a favor— especially from anyone worth praying to—but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Nightfall comes too soon and eventually, he decides that maybe it’s better to seek out the source of the problem. To tear out the rot by the roots.

You answer the door after the second knock. You’re leaning against the frame, wearing those jeans again—that dark wash denim that’s skin tight, a gentle stitch of gold down the seam of the pockets.

Joel wonders where you found them, wonders how it’s possible that he’s been reduced to finding so much sex appeal in a pair of jeans, for Christ’s sake. Your black t-shirt is cut into a low V shape, and your breasts are pushed up because of your bra, providing him with a view so tempting it hurts.

“I hear you’re trying to get rid of me,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “If you didn’t like me, the least you could do is say so. Kinda shitty I had to find out from Greg, of all people.” You turn away from him and walk inside, leaving the door wide open.

It’s an invitation. But Joel hesitates, because he knows, he knows what happens when he’s alone with you. Knows just how far he’ll go, how much he wants it. He’s not sure if it’s desire or shame or excitement that coils around his spine, gripping tight.

But it’s rude, isn’t it, to refuse? It’s not like you’re doing anything to tempt him apart from existing. Joel can handle that, can’t he? He’ll just explain himself. Have a quick five minute conversation about why he needs to avoid you at all costs, why you cannot—cannot—be on watch duty with him for another day.

And then he’ll leave. Wipe his hands clean of the guilt, the sin, of you.

Joel walks inside and closes the door behind him. “You need to tell Maria you can’t be on watch tonight,” he says.

Your house is small but cozy, more personalized than the other homes in Jackson. Cluttered with things you no doubt picked up on some of your runs—framed photos of landscapes, whimsically shaped, half-burned candles, a crinkled and slightly water damaged band poster that reads The Bravery. The kitchen on his left is quaint, the counters occupied by stacks of old, worn books. There’s an old vase with a faded picture of a cat sitting on the stove, filled with mismatched utensils. A small, square table sits in the corner with two upholstered chairs and in front of one of them, a leather-bound journal sits with a pen beside it.

Joel suddenly, more than anything else, wants to know what’s in that journal. Thinks about sneaking in late at night to flip through it. It’s well loved, and he knows even from several feet away that inside of it is you. The parts you don’t share with others, the parts he desperately wants to unearth.

“And why would I do that?” You follow his gaze and casually move to close the journal. You wrap the leather cord around it twice, pick up the pen, and toss both into an inconspicuous drawer.

“Because I said so,” Joel says sharply. He’s standing by the front door still, and his skin prickles as you close the distance. And for good measure, he adds, “Because you’re not feeling well. You’re sick.”

You’re standing so close now he can feel the heat of your skin, beckoning to him, pulling him in. You’re so magnetic that he doesn’t pull away when you grab his hand and place his palm against the side of your neck. “Does it feel like I have a fever?”

Feverish? No. Warm, soft, addictive? Yes. Joel can feel your pulse beneath his hand, strong and steady. He can feel himself losing the battle already. He pulls his hand away and closes it into a fist behind his back. “Stop,” he says. “We can’t do this.”

You snort but turn away to give him some much needed space. “You can’t, you mean.”

He steps forward on instinct and freezes. He can’t bring himself to retreat, but he has the strength still to keep from going to you, from seeking you out just to feel you in his hands. That has to be enough. Joel knows he needs to say what he has to say and leave, before his resistance withers into nothing. “People are already starting to talk.”

“People,” you mock. “You mean your brother?” When he doesn’t deny it, you continue. “Let me guess—he said something this morning, asking about what we did all because I said I would pick up a couple of extra shifts.”

Joel doesn’t mention the other things Tommy said, about you being a pain in his ass. Joel can relate to it. “He also said you’ve been blatantly ignoring Maria.”

“No fucking shit I’ve been ignoring her,” you snap. But your eyes widen as Joel’s whole body tightens, seeing the mistake.

But he isn’t here for that. He’s not. If you’re going to be a foul-mouthed brat, so be it. It’s not his place to discipline you. It can’t be. “You need to give her a break. Maria’s done right by all of us.”

“Why? Because you said so?” You laugh, and it’s a sick, maniacal sound that grates against his nerves. So different than the soft airy giggles he’d heard last night. “Cut the shit and be honest with yourself, Joel. You want me to be nice to Maria so you don’t have to hear Tommy bitch about me anymore and you want me off watch duty with you because you’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid? Of a little girl?” Joel thinks you're joking at first. But you’re not laughing anymore, and when he realizes you’re serious he lets out a long sigh of frustration. It releases the tension in his shoulders just enough to keep him from losing it. “You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“Well I’m not wrong,” you say, brows raised.

It’s the attitude that gets to him, the contempt. Joel can’t stand it. He wants to take you by the throat and force you up against the wall. But he doesn’t, using the last of his patience to keep his feet planted firmly on the welcome mat.

“It was so good,” you say, the cadence of your voice lowering to a near whisper. There’s a warmth in your eyes that makes his chest ache. “I know you felt it too. You can’t tell me you didn’t. And even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you. I don’t believe you, Joel.”

The sound of his name in your mouth is nearly his undoing. It’s so pretty, you’re so pretty. Joel swallows hard, suddenly aware that for all he defiled yesterday, he’s never kissed you. Not truly.

He’s kissed your forehead, your cheek, has tasted your skin and the wetness between your thighs. But he’s never once tasted the inside of your mouth or felt your tongue against his.

Joel clenches his teeth.

He can’t. He shouldn’t.

But he has to. Good fucking God, he has to.

Joel reaches you in two strides. Your eyes widen in fear, but the moment he places his hands on either side of your face you’re melting, becoming pliable material for him to manipulate. Joel tilts your head up and leans down, crushing his mouth to yours.

You’re gripping his brown leather jacket, trying to keep your balance. But he’s crowding you, forcing himself into your space, into your mouth, pressing himself against you as if every inch of separation pains him.

Joel thinks you taste like bad decisions, like pomegranate seeds and glowing apple slices, like poisonous peach pits, like something so tempting it’s forbidden for good reason. He bites in anyway, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it out. You moan at the deviation from heaven, and he grabs a fistful of your ass and drags you impossibly closer as a low growl leaves his throat.

He knows you can feel his cock through his jeans, pressing hard against your belly, but Joel does his very best to ignore it as he licks every soft part of you. He wants to remember this, to savor it, because he promises himself it’ll be the last time he ever takes advantage of you.

When he pulls away, Joel’s gasping for air like he’s never been kissed before. Like this is his first time, like you’re his first. It’s certainly the only time it’s ever been like this, heavy and weighted, hot and desperate and sacrilegious.

Your eyes are glassy and beautiful as you look up at him, fingers still clutched in his jacket. “You’re afraid of me, Joel,” you repeat, snaking a hand between you and rubbing his cock, squeezing softly over the denim. “You’re afraid of how good this feels because you’ve never been able to hold onto anything good in your entire life.”

And, distracted by the soft feel of your mouth, by your hand, he’s able to listen. To rid himself of guilt, of shame, truly hearing you. Joel silently wonders if you’ve been the conductor of this mess all along, if you’ve somehow seen behind the scenes, if you are, impossibly, the one who’s manipulated him. Because how else would you be able to rip those razor-sharp truths out of him? Truths he’s never faced, truths he’s never planned to.

“It slips through your fingers every time, like smoke,” you say.

Joel can’t pull himself away, can’t reestablish that distance he so carelessly erased. You feel too good, touching him, sighing softly between words as if he were the one touching you.

“And so you’ll push me away, so far that you can forget whatever it is you feel for me. And it’ll work. For a little while, anyway.” You rise to your tiptoes, swollen lips a breath away from his ear. “But one day you’ll be laying in bed with some lovely, soft spoken, age-appropriate woman, and you’ll look over at her and you’ll imagine me in her place. And I think you’ll miss bossing me around, and teaching me how to behave for you, and how good it feels to be inside of me.” His cock throbs in his jeans, and he feels you smile against his skin. “I think you’ll miss me real bad, Joel Miller.”

The picture you paint is a dreary one, and it leaves Joel cold. Even colder when you finally step back and he can’t feel the warmth of your skin anymore, the heat of your breath. But he doesn’t say that, because this feels like a goodbye—the goodbye he came here for. Joel steels himself, pushing that God-forsaken image far from his brain. “Tell Maria you’re sick,” he orders.

And then he’s leaving, and it hurts to slam the door behind him, but he does it.

For the first time in days, Joel feels a drop of redemption trickle back into his bloodstream.

Thankfully, you don’t show up to the tree blind to relieve Greg and Bonnie. But no one else does either, and Joel knows that you never even attempted to speak to Maria. A last-ditch effort at defiance.

When they ask about you, he lies easily and says, “She’s running a little behind. Go on home, you’ll probably pass her on the way.”

And they do as he suggests, leaving Joel in the tree blind alone with his thoughts.

It’s almost as dangerous as being alone with you, because your words echo in his brain. I think you’ll miss me real bad, Joel Miller.

He will. He does. Already, he misses the way your body feels against his. He misses the taste of your soft tongue. He misses your sweet laughter and carefree demeanor. He misses the innocence in your eyes when you look up at him like he has all the answers. Joel wants to give them to you, wants to take care of you. Wants to make you feel good, to protect you, to keep you safe.

But you’re right. Goddamnit, you’re right. He is afraid of you. Terrified, in fact—because it could so easily turn into more than just physical need, more than just sinful desire. That one day you spoke into existence could come and he’d miss more than how it feels to be inside you, he’ll just miss you.

Joel knows how dangerous that is. It’s bad enough he’s gotta worry about Tommy and Ellie. Why would he want to add another name to that list? Another person he’d die for, another person he’d kill for.

It’s no good. He’s no good.

Joel feels the ghost of your mouth against his and can’t resist pressing his knuckles to his lips, hoping to cement your DNA there so he can keep the lingering taste of you forever.

But if not him, who else will take care of you? It’s dangerous outside these walls.

It’s only then he remembers his conversation with Tommy and Maria, who wouldn’t let Joel be on watch alone. Yet they let you go on runs alone, and often.

The realization has his blood boiling.

Because if not him, then who? Some other, older man? Someone capable of enduring your fury, your foolishness, of knowing when to have a heavy hand and when to touch you softly? No.

Fuck no.

By the time his shift is over and the next two patrolmen come to relieve him, Joel knows right where he’s headed. They ask him where you went, if you ever showed up—and he covers for you. Saying, “I cut her loose early so she could get some sleep.”

At first, he’s not sure why there’s an innate desire within him to lie for you, to keep you safe from ridicule or consequence.

But as he’s walking to that white house on the corner of the street, Joel realizes that it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else to punish you—ever.

That’s his job.

And, Christ, does he have plans for you.

Joel freezes a second before he bangs his fist against the door. The night is quiet and cold. The air is still. And, through the thin walls, he can hear you.

Can hear those sweet, soft moans. It’s faint, but it’s there. And Joel knows because those cute little sounds are forever embedded in his memory.

All the blood in his brain rushes south at the image his mind produces. He can almost see you; sprawled out on your bed, legs parted with your hand between your thighs. He wonders what you’re thinking about and selfishly hopes it’s him.

His hand shakes as he lowers it and reaches for the doorknob. You wouldn’t be so stupid, would you?

The question is quickly answered when he twists the handle and encounters no resistance. Joel suddenly thinks of a quote his old, southern pastor once told him when he was a kid. Fittingly enough, he’d used it in a sermon about abstinence.

Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is opening the door and inviting him in.

But what is Joel to do when the devil leaves the door unlocked and wide open with a bratty little girl on the other side of it? How is he supposed to resist the forbidden fruit knowing just how sweet it tastes?

He just can’t help himself.

Joel eases his way inside, carefully closing the door behind him. He shrugs off his jacket and flannel, laying it over the back of the worn leather couch as if he belongs here. Your house is dark, but he’s able to follow the sound of your whimpering down the hallway. He pushes your bedroom door open as silently as he can—and what he finds is somehow a million times better than what he’d imagined.

You’re sitting in the center of your bed, straddling a pillow that’s folded in half between your legs. You’re facing the doorway, head tilted back and eyes closed in euphoria. Joel can see everything from here. The curtain over the window is open, the moonlight casting a purplish hue over your soft skin.

His whole body tenses up as he watches you, eyes stuck on the wet spot between your legs. Joel almost doesn’t believe you’re real, nearly convinces himself you’re some sort of backlit, demonic little thing. Sent to him by the devil himself to ensure his damnation. As if it somehow wasn’t already a guaranteed thing, because Joel doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life, watching you desperately try to get yourself off.

You tilt your hips back and forth, moaning at the friction. The sounds you make are so beautiful, and Joel is thankful at this moment that you have little consideration for others. Because you’re moaning and whimpering loud enough that you don’t hear the wooden floor creak beneath his feet as he closes the space.

In a sick, sinister way, Joel enjoys the fact that he’s watching you, so close he could reach out and touch you, and you have no idea. Pretty, stupid little girl. Joel is a bad man, you know. Real bad. And he could do whatever he wanted to you right now. Could cover your mouth with his hand so you can’t scream, could force you to your knees and have his way with you.

You let out a sweet sounding gasp, and Joel knows you’re close, nearly there. He would bet your clit is throbbing against your pillow, pussy just aching to be filled.

More than anything, more than teaching you how dangerous it is to leave your doors unlocked in the dead of night, Joel wants to help you. Wants to make you feel good. Wants to show you that yeah, one day he may be lying next to another woman thinking of you, but he will be the only man to ever satisfy your sadistic cravings. No one will ever be able to touch you again and make you feel as good as he does.

He wraps his hand around your ankle and squeezes, anticipating the terrified cry you make in response. Joel holds tight, wrapping the other hand around your calf and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

But not before you reach behind, pulling a serrated sawback knife from beneath the sheets. It’s clutched tight between your fingers as you hold it towards him. Your frightened eyes soften as recognition comes. He can hear your breathing settle, but your chest is still heaving. He doesn’t think you notice as his hands begin to slide up your legs, over the softness of your thighs. “Joel? What are you doing? Did you break into my house?”

There isn’t a single trace of alarm in your voice anymore, even though you’re still pointing that knife at him. “Didn’t have to,” he says, completely unfocused on the point of the weapon. Joel leans forward, running his hands over the swell of your hips, your ribs. He takes both breasts in his hands, unable to hold back the groan at the heavy feel of them.

“I thought,” you swallow hard, inhaling a ragged breath. “I thought…you said—”

“I know what I said.” Joel takes the knife from your hand with ease and lays it on the battered nightstand. And the second he’s no longer under threat, he forces your back against the mattress and crawls between your legs, pulling them up over his hips.

He pushes his hard cock against you, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare, sensitive skin. He watches the way you immediately soak the fabric, evidence of your near-release. You prop yourself up on your elbows, brows knitted together, the cutest little pout on your lips. “Wait,” you say, and he does. “I just…I don’t understand.”

Joel sees the concern etched on your face and thinks you’ve never looked so vulnerable in front of him as your eyes search for an explanation. He doesn’t have one that makes sense, that justifies his being here, justifies his hands as they roam freely over your skin. He pushes his hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “You don’t have anyone to take care of you,” he mutters. “I’m gonna keep you safe, baby. Real safe.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you argue. “I can keep myself safe just fine.” He twists his hand in your hair, pulling lightly. His free hand comes between you, and Joel forces you to watch as he runs his thumb through your folds, spreading you open.

He doesn’t reply to your proclamation because he doesn’t believe it and he doesn’t think you do, either. He speaks as he circles your clit with the pad of his thumb softly. “But I gotta keep you safe from me, too, sweetheart. Can’t let an old man touch you like this. You’re just a little girl.”

Your back arches, pushing against his hand. You’re grinding against his cock over his jeans, and Joel can feel himself leaking at the warmth of you. You breathe his name, begging for more, begging for him like he knew you would.

Joel slides his thumb down further, smirking at the groan you let out as he pushes it inside you. “Precious little thing,” he whispers to himself. He switches his thumb for his middle finger, turning his hand palm up so he can press hard on that sweet spot inside of you. Your legs immediately start to tremble around him, and Joel smiles to himself knowing he’s barely touched you and already he’s accomplished what he set out to do. “I know, baby,” he says. “No one else can make you feel this good, huh? Not that pillow, not your hands, no other man but me.”

He releases his hold on your hair, letting you relax against the mattress. Your spine is still arched at the base, allowing him easy access to where you want him most. When he slips another thick finger inside of you, your hands clutch the sheets and your pleading gets a whole lot more convincing. “Joel, please—please just… mmm, Oh, God—”

Even though they burn his throat, Joel forces the words out before he loses the courage. “This is the last time, pretty girl. The last time I’ll ever touch you, okay? I promise. Gotta keep you safe…startin’ tomorrow.”

He almost wonders if you heard him, so lost in your satisfaction as he fucks you with his fingers. But then you lean forward, pulling eagerly at his leather belt, and he hears you say, “Liar.”

Joel knows you don’t believe him, but it’s true. He just needs to get it out of his system—to be inside of you knowing it’s the last time so he can savor it properly. To memorize it so he never forgets. He watches, enraptured, as you unbuckle his belt. Your hands are so much smaller than his, trembling lightly as you pull his cock out. He chuckles darkly as you lick your lips and hurry to line him up at your entrance. His middle and index fingers are still buried deep inside of you, hooked upwards right where you need him. “You want it now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you say so quickly he laughs. “Please, Joel, please.”

With his free hand, he knocks yours away and presses his tip into you between his fingers. “Right now, huh? So fuckin’ needy, can’t wait one more minute. Just wanna be so full’a me you’re beggin’ for it, s’that it?”

He inches in further, leaving his fingers inside of you, watching the glorious stretch it makes, relishing in the whine you let out in response.

“Wait,” you say, fear laced in your voice as you realize his intent. Joel does—giving you the option to deny him, to say no. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. Instead, when your pretty eyes meet his dark gaze, something heated and curious appears on your face.

Joel sinks into you further, even as you toss your head back and force the air from your lungs in a ragged exhale. He knows it must feel so full —because he can feel every inch of you, squeezing him like a vice.

“It hurts,” you hiss, wincing. “Joel, I can’t—!”

“Yeah you can, baby,” he encourages. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Joel pulls back out slowly, cock glistening with your slick. “You say it hurts but this pretty pussy is just cryin’ for me, little girl.” When he pushes in again, stretching you slowly, he lets out a low groan at the feeling and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in.

“Oh my God,” you whine, hooking your legs around his back. “It’s too much.”

“Is it?” Joel mocks, rocking his hips slowly. He can feel your body react immediately—walls fluttering around him with every movement. You’re a trembling, moaning mess, making an even bigger one all over the dark hair above his cock.

A single tear falls from the corner of your eye, and Joel leans forward to kiss it away. He presses his lips to your forehead and gently strokes the side of your face with his free hand. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I…it’s just,” you pause to let out an elated sigh as he thrusts in deep. “If this is the last time you—ohh, God, Joel—please, you’re gonna make me—”

“I know, little girl, I know,” he says. Joel thrusts his hips forward hard—once, twice, until your legs are shaking so bad he knows you’re one stroke away from combustion. And then he pulls his cock out of you, lips curling into a smirk at the whine you give in protest. “S’okay, baby, don't cry,” he promises, dropping to his knees and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Wanna taste it, sweetheart.”

His mouth is bliss when he puts it on you, licking long, gentle strokes through your heat with his soft tongue. He uses both hands to spread your legs wide, holding you still even as you squirm, and his chest rumbles in satisfaction as he drinks you in. Joel wraps his lips around your clit and focuses his efforts there. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he groans against you as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his face as if you can’t get enough.

Joel understands. He really, really does. Because even when your body pulls tight and you moan his name over and over, soaking his facial hair, his chin, his mouth—it’s not enough. He wants more, wants you impossibly closer, wants to hear nothing but your moans for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t stop until your muscles begin to relax and your breathing slows. He releases your clit from between his lips and you shudder as he licks through your folds, devouring any trace of your orgasm left behind. The urge to praise your behavior rises in him, wanting to tell you how good you’re being, how perfect.

But this—tonight—is about Joel. It’s a selfish act, his taking you. It’s for his memory, for his satisfaction. Which is why, when he crawls back over you, Joel rests his calloused hand against your neck and crushes his mouth to yours. You open up immediately, giving him an all access pass to your tongue, moaning at his reverence. You taste so fucking sweet, and Joel knows just how easy it would be to find obsession in kissing you.

With his free hand, he reaches down and pushes his jeans off the rest of the way, the metal belt buckle clanging to the floor. He pulls away for only a second to grip the back of his shirt collar and pull it over his head, discarding it quickly.

And then he’s turning you over, grabbing your hips, and forcing them up. The sight of you with your face against the mattress and your arms braced in front of you, the enticing slope of your spine, your glistening, needy pussy—it’s almost too much. Joel’s cock throbs painfully, desperate to be inside of you. He runs his hands over the perfect globes of your ass, spreading you open. “You’re so pretty, baby. The cutest little girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, and your whimpering in response to his compliments is so cute it warms his heart.

You arch back for him, and Joel can’t resist his grin. You’re just so eager.

He gathers the spit in his mouth and lets it drip between your cheeks, watching it slide down your pussy until it reaches your clit. He lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes back into you, can’t resist leaning over and pressing sweet kisses to your spine. He won’t last long—not like this, buried so deep inside you there’s no end of you or beginning of him.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says. Joel’s thrusts are punishing and relentless. He slams into you, holding you down against the mattress with one hand and using the other to paw at your ass, pulling you back onto him every time he retreats. “This what you wanted? Hm? Wanted to be bent over and fucked like a whore, huh?”

“Yes,” you choke out. “It feels so good, Joel—fuck—”

His hips still. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls you up, back against his chest. His mouth is at your temple as he asks, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry—don't stop, don’t stop, please,” you beg. The words are desolate and frantic, but there’s a knowing, arrogant smirk on your face.

You’re playing him, Joel suddenly realizes. Playing into his games to get what you want—you clever, bratty little girl. His palms twitch with the urge to force you into true submission instead of whatever this forgery of it is.

But he can’t do that in a single night. And so Joel decides to give you exactly what you want instead.

He wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he presses your head to his shoulder. He uses the other to reach down and stroke your clit in soft circles, thrusting up into you all the while. “Aw, baby,” he tuts. “Look at you. You’re so fuckin’ easy. Doin’ whatever I want you to. Lettin’ me fuck you however I want.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God—Joel I’m gonna—!”

Joel thrusts harder, circles your clit faster. Arousal pools low in his belly at the delicious way you say his name. “Give it to me, baby. Yeah, there you go. Mmhm, thaaaat’s it.” You squeeze him hard, and Joel has to close his eyes to hold himself back.

Your moans are music to his ears, pretty little sounds that urge him on. His hand doesn’t stop, his hips don’t slow, and his mouth never quiets, filthy words sending you to immeasurable heights.

“Pussy was fuckin’ made for me. It’s soakin’ me so good. This what you like? Hm? Like to be fucked real rough, treated like a fuckin’ slut. That’s what makes it all wet, baby? Don’t you worry. I’ll give you everything you need, exactly what you’re beggin’ me for.” Joel feels your muscles go slack, but his hand on your neck only tightens, holding you upright. He doesn’t stop even as your hands fly to his between your legs, pulling at his wrist, needing reprieve.

“Joel, oh my God, please—I’m finished, I’m finished—!”

He presses your clit harder, fucks you deeper. “Ain’t this what you wanted? Didn’t want me to stop. Real sensitive, isn’t it?” His tone is so mocking, so mean. “Gonna fuck you till it hurts, pretty girl.”

You’re writhing in his hands, the cutest little tremors rocking through you. “It does, it does, Joel, please, it hurts so bad,” you cry. He kisses your tears away, savoring the taste of saltwater on his tongue.

“Tell me who’s pussy this is,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me baby, who’s pretty pussy is it? Huh?”

No answer comes right away. You’re too fucked out, fucked stupid, thoughts emptying out of your head. But Joel is there, right at the precipice, and he has to hear it before he follows you.

“C’mon little girl, use your words. Tell me,” he gently urges.

“Yours! It’s yours, I swear, Joel, fuck, fuck—!”

He pulls out of you just in time to spill his come onto your back, his cock sliding against your ass. Joel feels satisfaction down to his bones, knows that it’ll be easier to resist you now that he’s succumbed to his indulgences.

But as the euphoria fades, the guilt slowly starts to seep in. Joel lays you gently against the mattress, chest heaving.

“Don’t move,” he says. And then he’s leaving your room, picking up his flannel from the back of the couch. When he returns, he wipes away the mess he made, cleans up the lingering wetness between your legs.

While you climb up the bed and slide your shaky limbs beneath the thick comforter, Joel starts to pull his clothes back on. When he’s dressed in his boxers and t-shirt you ask, “Joel? Can you…can you stay? Just for a little bit?”

Your voice is so timid, so mousy, as if you’re embarrassed to even ask. He’s never heard you like this before. It tugs on his heartstrings, makes him feel the beginnings of exactly what he’s been trying so hard to avoid.

That feeling chokes him, makes him feel covered in sin. Because you’re so young. So young that Joel should know better. He does know better. He’s just really, really bad at resisting temptation. Astronomically bad, in fact. And he doesn’t want to hurt you—truly, he doesn’t. Despite all he’s done and all he’s said, Joel has your best interest in mind. And he has no place there.

But, fuck, he wishes he did.

Words don’t come easily to him. They never have. Especially when he has so much to say. “‘Course,” is all he manages.

Joel climbs in bed next to you, shoulders relaxing for what feels like the first time in a very long time as he pulls you close. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, rests his cheek against the top of your head. He’s so warm, like a big cocoon of heat and safety.

The silence stretches on. And he thinks you may have fallen asleep already. But before you do, he says into the dark, “I didn’t mean it, you know. All the…the stuff I said. I don’t think you’re…”

You lift your head, turning those spellbinding eyes on him. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly isn’t for you to give him an award-winning smile and say, “Good to know Joel Miller doesn’t think I’m an actual whore. If he did, whatever would I do?”

He doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm right away. And you must see something on his face that’s real amusing—because you burst into a fit of girlish giggles and Joel can’t help but mirror your grin.

“I’m kidding,” you say. And then you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his jaw. “Goodnight, Joel. You can let yourself out when you’re ready.”

He waits until you fall asleep, until your breathing evens out and you turn away from him on your side. Joel gathers his things quietly and leaves through the front door.

This time, he locks it up tight.

[part one] [part three]

#joel miller #ao3 fanfic #joel miller smut #ao3 writer #joel tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller self insert #joel miller fanfic #age difference #smut #idle threats #pearlessance

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aryxchse · 6 months

Text

the same type of blue. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself. and i won't shut up about how logan lerman and his wife being sally and poseidon in my head

warnings : emotional, i can't warm up to paul im sorry, sally and poseidon should've been an endgame but idek how, mentioning past, you looking like sally, crying, some of the hera cabin power mentions that i had in mind

the moment sally jackson met you, was the moment she saw her teenage self in your eyes.

you were this funny and bubbly girl who was too nice for your own good. you had these mother instict in you that later she found out it was because of your mother being hera. you would always say what type of marriage you imagine with percy and how many kids do you want. one boy and one girl, doesn't matter who's the older. the girl was going to have percy's eyes, but the boy will have yours.

and it always put a smile on her face to listen you talk about your dreams so comfortly to her. because she saw herself in those dreams. they were once her dreams too.

percy looked and acted too much like poseidon for sally's own good. he would unknowingly make his dad's jokes, and would call you 'darling' like he did to her back then. all these little details would remind sally her past love.

it was a barbeque day for the jackson-blofis family at the montauk cabin. where you were obviously invited, and poseidon, obviously was not. he liked to show up in family gatherings once in a while, to spend some time with his son or suprisingly, estelle.

you and sally prepared the table as the boys made the meat while laughing at something. paul and poseidon had this awkward friendship that always made you giggle. and percy would chat with his biological dad more often, since he felt more comfortable with him. don't get me wrong, he loved paul. all of you loved paul. but poseidon's warm energy made him easier to talk.

you never thought you'd have a dinner with a god but here you were, eating a meal with one of the most powerful gods ever existed. poseidon was really good at making people forget that he's a god, the one that rules the seven seas.

after the dinner, percy and you started to clean the area as paul went inside to watch this new game he followed, you didn't really paid attention. sally stayed outside, smelling the sea's calming scent, her bare feet dipping in the sand.

she looked over were poseidon and estelle was playing. he made sand castles with her as he laughed like a true grandpa. it made sally chuckle too, seeing him acting all fatherly with her daughter.

"he wants to make up for it," you said, and it made sally slightly jump. you apologised while putting a hand on her shoulder. "you know, since he couldn't look out for percy and you."

sally's eyes started to water up, but she managed to crack a smile. "how do you know this?" she asked. you shrugged, "i can feel a parent's feelings, even if they're a god. weird power, i know." you chuckled at the end with her.

"he didn't had any choice," sally muttered, looking at the sea again. you nodded. "i know, but he still feels bad. he really loves you sally, still like the first time." your whispering words made sally want to breakdown right then and there, but she only sighed.

"baby!" percy called behind you, smiling like a little kid. you both turned around as you made your way to percy, giggling. once again, it reminded sally the good times. but she wasn't alone this time, poseidon could also see the similarities between them. how you had sally's hair back then like how she used it, and how percy was a literal copy of himself.

sally sat next to poseidon as he sat there silently, watching his son and his girlfriend chase eachother around the beach, just like he and sally did. estelle was asleep in his arms, the calm energy he radiated making the girl fall asleep immediatly.

"they're just like us." poseidon whispered, not looking at the woman he still loved. sally smiled, not that he would see. "yeah. but a better version." she responded.

"one that ends happily unlike us." he agreed, too afraid to look in her eyes. sally didn't said anything, and the past lovers watched their son having the time of his life with the girl he loved.

suddenly percy lifted you up on his shoulders and ran into the water with you, still being clothed. you whined the moment you swimmed up. "percy it's not fair!" you yelled at him between your giggles.

"m' wet too baby, see? there's nothing unfair in this!" percy laughed with her, hugging her waist tightly so that she won't slip away.

"you used to do that too," sally whispered to poseidon, smile hurting her cheeks at this point. poseidon mimicked her facial expressions as he nodded quickly.

"and you would always whine like her." he chuckled, making the woman laugh along with him.

percy stepped out from the water with the help of the waves, still holding you in his arms in bridal style. while he made his way into the cabin, he spinned you around once in a while to make you laugh.

"he's really your son." sally chuckled, watching the couple enter the cabin.

"he's our son." poseidon corrected. he finally faced the woman, and saw the tears perking in her eyes through a smile. this was sally jackson, the woman he loved the most. smiling through everything.

he made the tears go away with a flick of his hand, too afraid to touch her. "a proof that our love was real, not a dream i had."

#poseidon the man you are #I WANTED AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE OF THEM BEING TOGETHER #god sally and poseidon are my roman empire #your mother is a goddess among humans #MAN #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show #pjo tv show #percy x you

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hauntedwitch04 · 1 year

Text

I hate you Black

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 4.1k words

Warnings: some angst, sexy Reggie and some funny times

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It's so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. This is my first time writing for the kinktober, hope you enjoy my writing.

P.s. i don't really now how much is hate fuck this fic, but here we are.

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KINKTOBER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 1: Hate fucking

To say that Regulus and I do not get along is an understatement.

We have been part of the same group of friends, namely the Marauders, for years now, since both my brother, James, and his brother, Sirius, are best friends, in fact they often consider each other almost brothers, on the contrary however the two of us have not been able to find common ground and usually always end up insulting each other and playing stupid jokes to irritate the other person.

Since our first year at Hogwarts, we have clashed because of our pride and desire to prove ourselves better than the other, and this challenge has continued outside of school, in everyday life.

This party is no different.

Sirius and Remus wanted to inaugurate the new apartment they decided to get, to live together, after being together for almost a year already, and so they threw a party with all their closest friends, including me and the younger Black.

I don't quite remember how I ended up straddling him with my hands around his neck, but I do remember the reason for that choice. Between his various jokes and yet another spilled glass on my favorite shirt because of his "carelessness," although we all know that if anyone is graceful it is him, the moment he mentioned what is now my ex-boyfriend. Just before coming to the party, in fact, that asshole decided to break up with me, telling me that he never actually felt anything really important for me, and that I was merely a fling that lasted too long and that now he actually already has another girlfriend and I was just in the way. A year and a half. We stayed together a year and a half, and he had to say that and turn away without looking back, or without a bit of shame or guilt, he didn't even apologize to me for shamelessly cheating on me. Part of me didn't even want to come to the party, but I love Siri and Remmy too much to let them down, so I took heart and convinced myself that I would have a good time, but at Regulus' words, "Where's your boyfriend? Is he tired of you too?", I saw no more. Smoke began to come out of my ears, my vision turned black, and inside I felt only a single emotion.

I realize what I was doing only after James detaches me from Regulus, while Sirius grabs his brother, and pulls him away from me.

"Are you totally crazy? You could have killed me!" Says Regulus shocked as he holds a hand to his throat, still struggling to breathe.

"Too bad, it will be for next time then." I answer coldly, to go toward the hall to get my coat, while I quickly apologize to the hosts and say I have to go home, because I don't feel too well. Both James and Sirius, Remus and Lily try to stop me, thinking it's because of guilt, but I really don't want them to see me crying and having to explain later that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and left me, and now I just feel like a pathetic little girl who can't be loved.

I hurry out of the house and immediately get hit by the cold autumn wind, which envelops me like a hug and shakes my hair, making it go over my face, thus tickling my nose. I smile and start walking toward my house, although it is quite far away, in fact I had come with my brother. I try to contain my emotions, but the tranquility and peace of the city at this hour give me enough security to let my tears flow freely down my cheeks. There is not a living soul to judge me, or so I thought.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me, someone is running toward me, so I turn around and see a breathless Regulus Black standing still, leaning on his knees and signaling to me to wait a second.

I try to wipe away my tears so that he can see that I was crying, but it is too late now, because his expression immediately changes and he seems confused by what he is seeing.

"I don't need your stupid excuses, go back to the others and tell them the bitch is not ready to be insulted by you again." I say trying to distract him as I turn and start walking faster, but a hand grabs my shoulder and makes me turn around.

"Are you crying?" Regulus asks, under his breath, as if even he does not believe the scene before him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as sharp as Sherlock Holmes." I say trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he brings his second hand to my face, and wipes away a couple of tears that had reached my chin.

"If it's something I said, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't want to come and apologize, they forced me, however, I never wanted to make you cry, I was just playing with you." He continues, not caring what I had said. He looks me straight in the eye and I see his sincerity, and I don't know why I start to cry more. He looks at me unsure of what to do, before hugging me. As we are squeezed in that hug I tell him the real reason I was crying and apologize to him for what I had done earlier at the party. As I finish my story, he pulls away from that hold and looks into my eyes again.

"Hey, he's the asshole, not you. And he's also stupid if he didn't see the magnificent person he had beside him." He tells me firmly and sweetly at the same time.

"Says the boy who has been insulting me since we were eleven years old." I reply sarcastically as I stare into his eyes, and I can't lie to myself. I've always thought Regulus is a handsome boy, but damn, right now he looks like a deity come down to earth to teach us what beauty is.

"Hey I may be an asshole, maybe even a little stupid, but it's not like I'm blind." He continues, smiling at me as he looks at my lips. "You know I think I found a more appropriate way to apologize." He whispers as he moves even closer to my lips.

My brain cannot process the moment, everything seems fuzzy. Its scent, fresh mint, coffee and cigarettes, intoxicates me like a drug, and I can't do anything but screw it up to do what my instinct tells me to do.

"Know that it will not be easy to make it up to you for everything you have done to me. You were very, very mean to me." I whisper before kissing him, tired of that game.

I feel like giving my first kiss for the second time. Our lips chase each other, eating each other, needing each other. I feel my hands run through his hair, while his rests on my hips and draws me to him in a death grip.

We continue kissing, and time seems to stop, even the dry leaves seem to stand still in the air, waiting for our future to be drawn, anxious to see our next move.

Eventually we part, to catch our breath, and a faint laugh escapes from my lips.

"Know that I hate you anyway." I tell him and he can't help but chuckle, before taking on a serious look.

"Would you like to come to my house. You know I'd like to apologize for good, and show you that you've had really bad taste in men so far." He says seductively in my ear.

"You have to be careful what you say Black, because it could backfire on you with this sentence." I reply, trying to hide the emotions it is stirring in me.

"No baby, I'm going to show you how a real man should treat you, and not the idiot you used to date." He continues, whispering on my lips, before leaving a light kiss, as light as a butterfly resting gracefully on a flower.

"Know that this does not take away from the fact that I hate you." I reply, still partly in trance after that kiss.

"This just means that I will have to work harder at apologizing." Regulus replies, before stepping back a little, and removing the scarf around his neck, to give it to me. I didn't even notice that I'm shaking, too engrossed in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to my place, it's not too far." Says the boy, putting an arm on my shoulder, thus blocking any possibility of my thinking with his intoxicating scent for the second time this evening. After a few minutes of walking we arrive in front of a dark door, for which young Black quickly pulls out the key to open it.

Once inside the house, I am amazed at how the entire apartment is furnished. Dark furniture stands out against the green and white walls. Soft lights illuminate the rooms, giving it a cozy atmosphere. Every item is meticulously placed in a studied spot, everything is perfect, every note played with the right pitch to create a wonderful harmony.

I am lost in looking around the room when I feel a pair of hands drawing me toward them.

One hand gently removes my scarf, while another turns me around. In Regulus' eyes I see pure pleasure, and this only creates an unpleasant wet feeling in my panties.... We look at each other for a second before pouncing on each other like hungry prey, moving slowly down the stairs and into the bedroom. He pulls me back until I touch the bed with my knees, then drops me down, pulling away from the kiss. I look at him and see his lips red and swollen as he struggles to catch his breath. His hair is messy from my fingers, yet he has never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment. I watch him slowly approach the button of my jeans like a fierce lion studying its prey, and then with a precise and quick gesture, unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye these lie on the floor, tossed from some indefinite part of the room. The only thing now separating him from his goal is my underwear, but before he can take the next step, I gently place a foot on his chest and look seductively at him.

"Hold your horses Black, if you want to play with me you have to do it right. One garment each at a time, I lost my pants, now you have to take something off." I say looking at him carefully, and he chuckles at my words.

"You can be really obnoxious Potter, you know that?" He asks wryly as he removes his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest, since he has no shirt underneath. For a moment I am breathless at that ethereal sight. Her white skin glows in the moonlight entering the room. His physique is muscular but not overly so, I can tell he works out a lot and holds himself, but it's also not excessive. I get flashbacks of seeing him practicing Quidditch at Hogwarts shirtless with sweaty hair in the wind, and immediately I find myself having to make the physical effort to not cum in that same instant.

"I try my best." I respond seductively as I watch him lower himself, going on his knees, getting to be at the same level as my pussy.

"Now if you don't mind, I have a promise to keep: to prove that your asshole ex is nothing compared to me." He says before pouncing on me as if I were a feast. I don't have time to respond because he immediately starts kissing my inner thigh, both from the right and the left until he reaches his booty. Slowly, with his teeth, he grabs my panties, leaving a few wet kisses on my skin and making me shiver, and slowly he slides them all the way down my legs.

It is the most terrible, nerve-wracking, and sexy torture I have ever had to endure.

"I thought you were supposed to make it up to me Black, not make me madder." I say in a voice little louder than a sigh as I feel his hot breath on the center of my pleasure.

"Oh baby, I still have to start apologizing, and get ready because I want to do it right." He says, as he caresses the most intimate part of me with his lips. A second later, pure pleasure invades my every sense as he begins to kiss the lips of my pussy. I feel his tongue caressing me, as my hands wriggle in his hair, drawing him ever closer to the center of my pleasure, and with my eyes around his name like a song, between moans and expletives. I hear him smile at my reaction, and just as I was about to respond rudely to him, he increases my torture by adding a finger, taking it in and out of my opening. A few minutes thus pass, me hovering on the edge of pleasure, just as he looks up and shifts slightly. His mouth is completely wet from my pleasure, while I curse for the missed orgasm.

"You'd better finish what you started Black, because I swear that on the contrary you can distantly forget any chance of me being more generous to you." I say, trying to catch my breath.

"I was just catching my breath for the grand finale." He replies with a small smile, seeing my desperation.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think that's what we're doing baby. What, I'm too good and you're not used to feeling so much pleasure?" He says smiling again as again, he turns me around kissing my entire thigh.

"By Merlin, how I hate you Black." I gasp, between groans.

"Try to convince yourself of this all you want honey, but we both know that right now your orgasms depend on me." And with that he begins his feast again, with more eagerness, and again, in a few minutes I am again on the brink of absolute pleasure, but this time I manage to go further, and for a moment I feel like I can touch the sky with my finger. I feel the blankets tighten between my fingers as I moan his name, almost screaming it, as if I want the world to know who was responsible for so much pleasure.

A few seconds pass, as I try to regain possession of my body and mind, before he speaks again.

"Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He says giggling, before starting to kiss my body again, slowly, savoring every inch. He pulls off my shirt, as I now recovered from all that unexpected pleasure, taking off my bra. I see him staring at my breasts, before teasing my nipples, one with his tongue and one with his fingers. He bites, sucking my breasts, leaving signs of his passage as I try not to lose myself again in that spiral of pleasure.

"Damn, you don't know how long I've wanted to touch them, taste them, mark them as my own." He says in a gasp, before switching nipples and moving on to the other. Meanwhile then I try to distract him by opening his pants, but as soon as I try to touch his dick, he stops and moves my hand away, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tonight is just for you, not for me, now let me continue and make you feel like the goddess you are." At her words I can't help but hold back a sigh of pleasure.

"Now I understand why everyone was falling at your feet in school, you really have a gift for talking to girls." I say, as I feel his lips go up my neck, leaving me biting and hickeys as he passes.

"Too bad the one girl I really wanted did nothing but blow me off and tell me she hated me." She tells me, before kissing me passionately. Somehow I can still taste myself on his lips, or rather in his mouth, as we explore every nook and cranny of it with our tongues.

"Maybe he was telling you that he hated you, because all he could do was wish to fuck you in the broom closet." I answer between kisses as I hear him take off his underpants and pull down his underwear.

For the first time I realize perhaps truly the situation I am in. Our naked bodies, rubbing against each other, dancing a love dance of their own, as we struggle against each other to win.

He chuckles at my words as he moves to kiss me along my arm, while using his hand to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom and put it on as he counters.

"And I would rather tell you that I hated you than confess that every night I dreamed of fucking you against a wall." He pauses for a moment, and smiles at me before continuing, with that obnoxious grin of his. "Although I would have said you were more of a quickie in the bathroom type."

"It happened only once, and with a Ravenclaw prick who had already done half my year, while I was half-drunk at a party, after watching you stick your tongue half a foot down the throat of a Hufflepuff slut." I confess by looking into his eyes, and I notice that amidst the pleasure now also shines a spark of astonishment. "Now get a move on, though, Black, for now you're all talk and no action." I continue, with an amused little smile.

"Merlin, if you say one more word, I swear I'll plug your mouth with your panties." He says, taking his dick in his hand, aligning it with my entrance.

"Oh you just have to try, assh- Oh my god!" I try to respond, but he blocks me by entering me overbearingly, immediately I feel my body almost leave the earthly world for pleasure. His dick is bigger than I would have expected, and certainly bigger than my ex's. Immediately he seems to touch all the places that give me the most pleasure, and my mind cannot process a concrete thought.

"I hate you Black." This is the only thing I can say as he is still still inside me, making me get used to his size. "I don't think I can do without your dick from now on, and this is all your fault." I continue as he tries to move slowly, in and out of me, as he murmurs a few dirty words under his breath.

"Oh you are adorable baby." He says before kissing my neck again as he increases the force and speed of his thrusts. "But if you really think I would let you go after this time you are crazy. I hate you too you know, I hate the fact that I am now addicted to this tight, hot, wet pussy of yours. Fuck I think I've found heaven." He gasps near my ear. We continue this dance like this, until a few minutes later, we are almost at the height of pleasure.

"Please Reg, don't stop. I'm cumming:" I plead with him, before stifling my continued moans of pleasure, leaving kisses, bites and hickeys on his neck as my hands scratch his muscular back. I feel him stiffen at my touch.

"Me too baby." He gasps, then increases the speed. A few thrusts, and we both reach orgasm.

We remain still for a moment, enjoying that feeling of pleasure and the warmth of the closeness of our bodies. We don't say a word, let silence fill the space between us, before we kiss again.

This time the kiss is different, not passionate and oozing sex like the others, it is more gentle and sweet, as if through that contact we want to express all those repressed feelings kept inside us all these years and that we cannot describe in words.

He moves from on top of me and lies on his side, while still keeping his arms around my waist. I slowly feel fatigue take possession of me as he gets out of bed to head for the bathroom and get a towel with which my private parts, now too sensitive, in fact a shiver runs down my spine and he seeing it apologizes to me.

When he is finished he lies down again beside me and hugs me, making me feel warm and safe. Just before I fall asleep I look into his eyes and manage to say something.

"You're on the right path to forgiveness, but maybe you need to try a little harder." And he can't help but laugh at those words. "I don't hate you that much anyway, I guess." I continue, as I snuggle against his chest.

"Fortunately." He replies. "Because I don't hate you at all, maybe just the opposite I dare say. "

The next morning I wake up after him. Regulus is already out of bed. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants, and he is shirtless. I can tell right away that he has just gotten out of the shower because I can see his wet hair, however, I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. Feeling my eyes on him he turns and sees that I am awake, and he smiles at me.

"Yes Sirius, I promise I didn't say anything stupid." He says with a bored look on his face as he watches me sit up in bed, my hair still tousled from sleep.

"I apologized, very deeply last night, but I may have to do it one more time to make sure you understand what I meant." She continues to talk to her brother as she gives me a wink and immediately I feel my cheeks go hot from what she said.

"Yes, yes. I love you too. Bye Siri, see you later." He greets his brother as he turns around and then sets the phone down on one of the pieces of furniture next to him, and there I realize all the marks I left on him last night. In the night we then woke up and made love a couple more times. Just thinking about it I feel my pussy getting all wet, even just remembering all that happened.

"I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up but since you are already awake I would suggest you take a shower while I make you breakfast. Is that okay with you?" He asks me, and I can't find my voice to answer him, so I smile and nod. He smiles back, leaving me a kiss on my forehead and then goes downstairs to cook.

I stay in bed for a second and letting out a sigh I realize perhaps for the first time that I hated Regulus Black so much, that I ended up falling in love with him, since the line is so thin that for a long time you can think you are hovering between the two, and only when you land do you realize that you slipped into one of the two worlds long before.

BONUS

Remus watches Sirius talk to his brother on the phone as he asks him if he finally apologized to little Potter. Once the call is over Sirius puts the phone down and looks at his boyfriend.

"They fucked." Remus says, before sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"They got laid." Sirius confirms, laughing, while Lily, who had stayed over with her boyfriend James, sighs with relief.

"Finally, the situation was becoming unbearable. By now all you could do every time was expect them to jump at each other's throats with a knife or fuck in the guest bathroom." Lily says as she looks at James, who has a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, we're still talking about my little sister!" He says, looking at his friends and his girlfriend.

"Look at it this way, at least now we're really brothers." Try proposing Sirius.

"And probably uncles, too." Remus and Lily say in unison.

No one can hold back a laugh seeing James' horrified face.

TAGLIST (Kinktober special)

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#marauders x reader #hauntedwitch04's writing #becky's halloween party #halloween party #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus imagine #marauders smut #marauders imagine

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icallhimjoey · 14 days

Note

hello love, i have a request for a smutty and fluffy joe fic ❤️ (it's a bit of a personal one) the reader experiences some pain and discomfort during PIV and their past partner(s) never took the time to make sure they are fully comfortable and heard... but joe does. 🥺 xx.

thanks for your request! i didnt deliver much on the smut (my apologies) but i tried to do it justice for ya ❤️ Wordcount: 2K

---

And I'll Listen

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, after climbing up onto your bed and sitting down right in front of you, mirroring you exactly. Legs criss crossed in front, elbows pressed into the inside of your knees.

“What? Nothing’s wrong.” You smiled, but your words came out without any confidence. It sounded like a fat lie, even to your own ears, so you knew Joe wouldn’t be convinced.

“Okay,” Joe said, narrowing his eyes a little, but letting his hands find yours in between your laps and leaning in for a kiss anyway.

You’d had a whole day that built up to this.

Every little thing leading up to this moment.

Of having Joe in bed with you, the unsaid expectation of getting to connect past kisses and wandering hands.

Joe had been extra sweet, had really done his best to make you giggle and blush a little more than he had done on any previous dates. Not because he was hoping you’d repay his kindness with anything. That wasn’t the type of person he was. But because he wanted you to feel comfortable around him. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he was probably going to.

Which, you did. You did feel comfortable around him.

You liked Joe a lot.

You wanted him in bed with you. You wanted Joe to kiss you, and so when he leant in for one, it was easy to accept his lips as they brushed against yours.

It was just that... you were nervous.

Sort of scared.

There was a little seed of fear left over from unpleasant experiences with other men, and you hadn’t realised how all throughout the day you’d been silently watering it.

It was a whole big leafy plant now, and it made you turn Joe’s kiss into a quick peck.

You wondered if Joe would accept it if you just wanted to cuddle all night.

Joe smiled at you, and he noticed the blush high up on your cheeks. You looked real cute like this, in the low light of your bedroom that turned everything into soft oranges, and he let go of one of your hands to curl it around your neck.

He pulled you in for another kiss, and you liked the strong fingers that held your head up, but you did the same thing again. Broke the kiss just as quick as it started and moved back a little, biting into your bottom lip and bringing a hand up to softly rub at the side of your nose.

Your nose wasn’t itchy, but by covering your mouth you ensured Joe couldn’t quickly try for another kiss.

This felt awkward. Which was weird, Joe thought.

You’d kissed lots already.

You’d surprised him with kisses a lot, actually. Like in public, right outside a pub, when he hadn’t expected it at all and he had nearly dropped his beer. Or earlier when he’d shown you the eyelash on the tip of his finger that he’d carefully taken from just underneath your eye and made you make a wish before you both blew it off.

It was strange that you were cutting off kisses and keeping him at a distance.

Joe moved back a little more, and you saw how he observed you for a moment before his brows pulled down into a confused frown.

“You seem nervous…” he said, smiling still.

“Yea, it’s the nerves.” you joked dryly, using the moment to try and get rid of the uneasy feeling that you couldn’t seem to shake. You hoped a little humour would help, and it did help, because Joe burst into loud laughter.

But then the moment Joe’s laughter subsided and he went in to kiss you again, murmuring “I’m trying to set the mood, stop being so funny,” against your lips, the fear and anticipation returned full force.

God, why were you panicking?

This was Joe.

He’d done nothing to make you believe he was like… like the others. Like any of them, actually.

Your clear mind was convinced you could just tell Joe about the issue and that he would react the way you’d want him to. The problem, however, was that your mind didn’t feel all so clear right now, unfortunately. And Joe could feel it in the way you froze on him a little. You were letting him kiss you, but you weren’t really kissing back all that much.

“What’s got you so nervous, hey?”

Joe knew he wouldn’t be in bed with you if you didn’t want him there. There was no question about where the night was headed; you had both been very clear about it, so there was no doubt in Joe’s mind at all.

He guessed it was normal to feel a little nervous, but something about you felt a little off. Something different in your eyes.

“I just said,” and you just couldn’t fucking help to use the same joke to deflect, “It’s the nerves.”

This time you didn’t get a laugh, but just a small smile and eyes that slid down your body before they found yours again to lock onto.

“I know that...” Joe started, face serious enough for you to feel uneasy with his eye-contact. You looked away, and it made Joe pause.

You weren’t really letting him in.

“I know that being vulnerable can be scary, but…” Joe looked at your hands and cupped one into his palm so he could let his other hand tickle the inside of yours. He glanced up to see that you were staring at it too.

“I think that you think it takes a lot of effort to be a little more exposed... that it’s hard work to open those doors.”

Oh, shit.

You did think that.

You didn’t like how Joe seemingly saw right through you.

“But if you ask me, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not hard work. But you know what is? Keeping the doors closed when someone else is trying to take a peek inside.” Joe stressed his words and made it obvious he was talking about himself. “We’re just gonna be pulling on either side… and, you’re strong. You’ll probably manage to keep it shut if you were really determined. And then what might happen is that I’ll grow tired eventually and stop trying...”

You inhaled a shuddery breath. That wasn’t what you wanted. It was frustrating that Joe even framed it like he had to work hard for it, but you didn’t want Joe to stop trying.

“And I don’t even want to get inside. I just want to... I don’t know, I guess I just want to open the door and have a look. Wanna see you.”

Somehow the concept of being seen felt just as bad as letting someone in.

“Joe…” you whispered, and watched as Joe grabbed hold of both of your hands, interlacing your fingers together in a bid to feel closer. Your touching knees weren’t really covering Joe’s want for closeness.

“Am I making sense? Do I–” he sounded impossibly sweet and gentle, it was almost too soft for you to bear.

“Yea, no, you are! You are, but…”

“But what?”

But your fingers had held onto those doorhandles for so long they’d sort of cramped into their set position and prying them loose was actually the painful bit. That first step of opening up was what had you worried, because what if Joe got a little glimpse inside and didn’t care for what he’d see.

Because that had happened before.

Or at least... that’s how you had always interpreted it.

Because you’d felt like you had let people look inside, but then they hadn’t really seen you. They’d just barged in and didn’t listen when you’d said, stop, that’s enough.

Rational thought told you not to accuse Joe of things he hadn’t done, but you couldn’t help your body anticipating the worst all the same.

“Hey,” Joe whispered and pulled you from your thoughts, big eyes filled with worry that didn’t feel pitying to you. More warm and kind, like he was trying to show you that he would see. That he would listen.

“It’s just me.”

“Well… you see, it’s not. It’s not just you. It’s you and,” you glanced down between the two of you and, for a split second, thought of mentioning Joe’s dick.

Classic joke.

It’s you and your huge shlong that counts as its own individual.

But Joe hadn’t just tried to convince you to be honest with him for you to throw a dick joke into his face, and so instead you let your eyes find Joe’s again and you finished, “me.”

You said it like it should really worry Joe that it was you he was with.

Like he had made a great mistake by being here.

Like there was something terribly wrong with you.

Which, you kind of thought there was. A little.

But Joe didn’t think so, and his facial expression pulled into something past confusion. He seemed almost offended at the light that you’d just placed yourself into, so you scrambled to explain what you meant.

“It’s you and me, and I don’t… you know, there is... so, before it’s not always been- s-sometimes it’s not been– not that I don’t trust you, like, I know you wouldn’t want to hurt me, but, it’s not like, like, it’d b-be your fault, it’s just that it’s scary ‘cause then, what if it does, a-and–”

“Hey.” Joe stopped you. He’d heard enough.

You were getting ridiculously close to crying, Joe might as well just start getting dressed again, you thought. This was going nowhere, fucking pathetic. Joe hadn’t flirted with you all day for him to spend his evening comforting his crying date.

“Take a deep breath.” he instructed. Wasn’t a question.

You shuddered through an exhale first before you took a quick big gulp of air.

“Slower. Do one more, slow. Close your eyes.”

Joe sounded more stern than he had done before, and you reluctantly followed his instructions. Sort of. Joe had to give you a raise of his eyebrows and a little nod before you closed your eyes. When you exhaled your slow breath, you noticed how dropping your shoulders stopped your lips from wobbling.

“Another one.” he said, sounding a little bit more gentle this time.

You felt Joe press a thumb in between your eyes, pulling upwards, easing your frown. He did that a couple of times until he couldn’t see it anymore.

“Okay. Good. That’s better.”

Then he used both his hands to trace lines from your forehead down either side of your face until his finger tips met over your lips.

You visibly relaxed a little more, eyes still closed as you let your head hang to the side a little.

After doing that for a while, after your lips had slightly parted on their own, Joe softly asked, “Does this feel nice?”

“Mhm,” you tried nodding but weren’t sure you even moved all that much.

“Good. S’all I want.”

You snapped your eyes open, immediately tense again and ready to argue, because intentions didn’t matter. No one had even intended to hurt you before, but it had still happened. Hence this whole fear-plant that lived inside you now.

“But, what if–”

“You tell me.” Joe quickly interrupted you.

“Okay, but–”

“And then I’ll listen.”

Oh.

Hit the nail right on its head.

You inhaled a sharp breath and pulled your bottom lip into your mouth.

“You tell me, and I’ll listen, okay?” Joe sounded dead serious.

You thought for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yea, okay.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

“Promise me one thing.” Joe pulled both your hands into his chest, curling them under his chin as he forced eye-contact with you.

“You have to tell me. Talk to me. I don’t want you– you’re not allowed to… I don’t know. To push through. I don’t want you to pretend everything is okay when it’s not, all right? Any discomfort and you just say stop, okay?”

You felt your eyes well up and before Joe could witness tears spilling over, you were quick to lean in and kiss him, pulling your hands from his grasp and using both to pull him closer by the back of his neck.

“Mm– promise me, you gotta promise–” Joe was hardly stopping you from kissing him, but he needed you to say it.

“I promise, I promise,” you urgently said, not even sure if you even knew how to tell Joe to stop, but your gut-feeling overwhelmingly wanted you to kiss him, so you did.

And feverishly so.

You felt Joe smile against your mouth as he let both arms curl around your middle, pulling you into his lap, and it felt a little silly how suddenly, Joe’s earlier words settled within you.

“It’s just me.”

He was right.

This was just Joe.

It was like you had only just understood what he had even meant when he’d said that.

“It’s just you.” you repeated in a whisper, reassuring yourself as Joe kissed down your neck.

But Joe actually thought that what you’d said made more sense. That you were actually right, and he needed you to know he understood.

“It’s me and you, all right?” Joe corrected, breaking from you just long enough for you to pull your top off, and then going back in for your mouth.

“It’s me and you.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #and i'll listen

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amandabbbbb · 4 months

Note

omg can you write Sarah best friend!reader, and rafe and reader pretend to hate each other in front of all they’re friends but behind close doors they are like friends with benefits

this is kinda different from what you asked! hope you still like <3 rafe teases reader a ton bc he wants her sooo bad idk i added a little smut so I guess that’s a warning!!!!!

“gimme that back, rafe!” you shouted.

“y/n, if you keep drinking, you will be a fucking mess like you always are,” rafe said in a sarcastic tone, snatching the drink out of your hand.

“sarah, tell him to give it back to me. your brother’s the worst,” you exclaimed.

you never understood why he was always so mean to you but never to your other friends. sarah and all your friends laughed at how much rafe would annoy you. it was like you and rafe’s weird friendship had become a norm that everyone was used to and would laugh at. he never wanted to be mean to you, but he literally couldn’t help it. rafe found you so pretty and cute, just the lovely, kind girl who was attached to sarah’s hip. he never knew how to approach you. his shyness turned into meanness every time he was in your presence.

“don’t you have your own pool, y/n? seriously, all your tanning oil is clogging up our drains!” he actually loved the tanning oil that would make your perfect skin glisten when he would watch you roll around in the sun, trying to hide his hard on.

topper laughed, “why are you always so mean to y/n? she’s literally the nicest out of all of sarah’s friends!”

rafe rolled his eyes, knowing deep down he was only mean to you because he couldn’t have you. you thought he was so dumb and annoying, but cute.

sarah went to bed. you couldn’t sleep, kind of annoyed by the way rafe was treating you. he was always mean to you, but extra mean today. you were mean to him too, but never could keep up with his cruelty. you stayed up watching your favorite show, jersey shore.

“this snooki girl is just as annoying as you, y/n!” he said as he threw himself down on the couch a little too close to you.

“rafe, i think i’m running out of shut ups to throw at you,” you replied.

the silence in the big tannyhill living room became awkward.

“you know i like you, y/n?” he blurted out.

you laughed, “you’re kinda funny sometimes, you know that?”

“no, i’m fucking serious. i want you so bad,” rafe stated with a strict look.

for a moment, you were taken aback. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. you realized he wasn’t joking. your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building between you two.

“okay, this is… weird. what about sarah?” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“i don’t give a fuck about sarah,” rafe said angrily.

before you could say anything else, rafe leaned in and kissed you. it was rough at first, a release of all the pent-up frustration and desire.

his hands roamed over your body, tugging at your clothes impatiently. you helped him, eager to feel his skin against yours. when he finally pushed himself inside you, it was raw and passionate, a collision of need and longing. you gasped at the sensation, your nails digging into his back as he moved inside you.

“rafe,” you whispered, your voice filled with need.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your skin.

afterward, you lay next to him, both of you breathing heavily.

“you’re not so bad when you’re not being a dick, rafe,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes, pulling you closer, not wanting to let go of you. “yeah, well, maybe this changes a few things.”

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grapejuicestyless · 5 months

Note

part 2 for so long london w/ a happy ending please I loved it sm😭😭

loml.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: After nearly a year apart and an album later, turns out you and Harry aren’t doing as well as you let off to be. Part 2 to So Long, London

Seeing him across the room even after all this time sends chills down my spine. I recall the warm feeling of his hands against my spine and the smell of gunpowder as he aims his pistol at my heart.

It’s funny seeing him now that he’s written down his feelings and published them like a diary for the world to read. I know more about his heart than he led me on to know. I know how he claims to have felt shattered inside with the realization he lost the “love of his life” and how we walked the fine line between being perfect and violently broken. But really, what is perfect when it comes to us?

He wrote down some things I just can’t unabsorb. His songs turning me into more of an idea of sorts. It felt like watching the story of our love from afar. The details were there, but they weren’t quite right. He writes about how we danced in the kitchen listening to trash pop music, but he leaves out the way we always stumbled over the chipped tile by the counters. Does he remember how he’d lead us there purposely so he could wrap his arms around my cold body and save me?

Seeing him now I can feel his eyes drift to mine every couple seconds, his gaze burning into my side profile while I down another glass trying to shake the feeling.

I feel stupid now, seeing him at our best friend’s wedding. He’s in a suit and tie, his hair curled around his eye and a red tint from the sun on his cheeks. I feel even more stupid wearing a green dress on the opposite side of the alter, holding flowers and smiling at how the bride and groom promise themselves in sickness and in health.

I’m not stupid though, I can hear the whispers about how we almost had it all. The flowers picked out from the catalog dull in comparison to the ones we had picked out for each other by the third week together. When I sit with the bridesmaids, I hear their snickers at the bride, how lucky she is to be the first married, how they always thought it would have been me.

But I’m a good friend, and a damn good actress. I can paste on a smile and act like the jokes they sneak into their speeches about how they never saw it coming, telling stories about the newlyweds that should have been about us are funny. But I can’t help the way I start to sweat when they begin to quote the same words Harry had written down for me.

All of our love story written down for the public to use, words he penned on the paper with my face in mind belong to someone new now, “I love you’s” whispered between couples who once dreamed of having a love like ours.

“I remember meeting you in September of last year, you were wearing a yellow dress and red shoes. You didn’t match, but you made it look good. I thought you were beautiful, I just had to have you. And when you decided to go for a guy like me, I knew you were the one instantly. Just like our good friend Harry once said, ‘She’s an angel, my only angel.’” I don’t listen to his heartfelt speech anymore, I can’t even look at the smile on my friends face as he serenades her anymore, I feel like someones just ripped out my heart and claimed it as their own.

And like someone was praying for me to cry, to finally break and show everyone just how not okay I am, his eyes are on mine, and he’s not looking away. When my eyes catch his, I mentally curse myself, wishing I could sink into the seat beneath me. I excuse myself to use the bathroom, grabbing the bottom of my dress to make down the long hallways of the beautiful venue that should have been ours.

“Y/n.” His accent is thick in the foggy room, eyes dimmer than I remember. He runs after me, voices from the reception muffled by the walls put between us.

My eyes trace over his body, studying the way he sighs out my name. Can he hear my heart crashing down as I realize I’ve lost my touch? I cannot tell if he’s relieved or obligated to be standing so close.

I swallow hard, his english accent drawing me back to the place I once loved so much. My new home dulls in comparison to what we once had, and I can’t help but still hold a grudge for him taking that all away from me, for ruining a sacred city and crushing it between his fingers.

“You look good.” I break the awkward silence that falls between us, his lips parted like an idiot, like he ran without thinking and forgot how to talk.

“Me? God, you look breathtaking.”

I would have blushed not long ago, curtsying at his comment and kicking my feet beneath the table cloth, but now the compliment is empty and instead feels backhanded in some odd way.

“Oh…well thank you. I tried my best.” I laugh bitterly, and the shine in his eyes tells me he misses the unhappiness in my giggles.

When he doesn’t speak again, I swear I can feel my skin shifting over my bones every time I breathe.

“Well, it was good seeing you.” I lie through my teeth, turning on my heals and wiping away any tears gathering on my waterline.

“You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to avoid me. I know things aren’t the same between us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still look for you in every room I walk into. You’re the love of my life, even now.” He confesses, stepping closer.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t. I’m not in any rooms you’re in anymore.”

“But maybe I wish you were.” He says with a smirk, stepping closer and trying to slip his hand into mine, but it’s like needles stabbing into my skin, I cannot hold onto him, so I slip away.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

He grabs me again, a hold so desperate to keep me in his grasp, one I haven’t felt in a long time. Classic move from Mr. Steal Your Girl. The man who promised rings and cradles, the dame man who swooned over the small things and rolled his eyes as he turned his back. Mr. Make Her Cry.

“Y/n I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“It’s not. It can’t be, we already did that right?” I turn to him teary eyed, my wrist burning under the grip of his cold rings decorated on his warm hands.

“No, that’s not what that was.”

“Then what was it?”

He swallows, but keeps looking me in the eyes like he means everything he’s preparing to say.

“We were so young. I was scared, and I pulled away. It was wrong, but I thought you’d be better off with someone who wasn’t afraid to grow up.”

“I would have waited. You know that.” He nods.

“I know. But it’s not fair.”

“No, whats not fair is you coming back to me after leaving me stranded in a place I can’t even fucking stand to be near anymore! God, you’re such an asshole, talking rings and talking cradles and then claiming to be scared for a future you planned. You don’t do that, not to the love of your life, and you sure as hell don’t leave them stranded and alone. How dare you think it was romantic to have done that to me?” I spit venom from my tongue, my eyes clouded with tears. “You promised to never leave, then what? Never mind? You think you’re such a hero for leaving me but in reality you’re a coward. Letting me think we had it all, we almost had it all and then you leave? What do I do with myself now that you’ve come back? Do you want me to forgive you? Harry, I might be the love of your life but you’re the loss of mine.”

“I know, I know.”

“Stop saying you know when you don’t!” I scream, quieting down as I remember where we stand, and I silently pray I haven’t spoiled such a beautiful wedding.

“I’m not claiming to have been a good partner, god knows about all my faults and I’ve gone away to fix them, and you’re here now, and I don’t know how I’ll ever find you again if I do not ask now, but I need you to listen to me now before it’s too late because I’ve never felt a hole in my chest like this, and I need you to see how badly I need you back in my life, I need you to trust me when I say I’m committed this time.” He pleads, his hands trembling in mine.

My lip trembles at the feeling of his skin on mine, my face colliding with his shoulder in a suffocating hug, I can feel myself falling back into his wicked grip, but when he holds me like this, it feels more like flying than falling, at least until the bone crush.

Standing in the hallway of a wedding built for us, but dedicated to another, I see us dancing in the kitchen again, the steps burned into my head as we waltz back into rekindled flames. His love is just so warm, fuck it if I get burned, if it falls apart again.

He’s the loss of my life, Mr. Writes Me Love Songs, Mr. Dances With Me In The Kitchen.

But for now, at least under the false illusion’s presented within this luxurious wedding, he’ll be the love of my life.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fine line harry styles #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

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httpsdana · 10 days

Note

Hey!! Could u write a jamal x reader with promt 90 and 14 where they're in a relationship (like literally everyone knows it) but like jamal acts so cold to reader in public like he doesn't know her which makes reader feel like he's just with her cuz he bored or something (idek what I'm saying atp 😭 but basically angst BUT ends in fluff)

Anyways Thank you!!!!🤍(Btw LOVE LOVEE ur writing i literally eat it uppp 😽😽)

Protector~Jamal Musiala

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

thank you sm for your sweet message 😙🫶🏻 enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers i write for

14-"I missed you"

90-"honestly? I am so fucking tired of being your secret."

She was used to the cameras, the flashing lights, and the whispers that followed whenever she was with Jamal. Dating him, a rising football star, came with a lot of attention, but it was something y/n thought she could handle. However, what she couldn’t handle, what weighed on her heart more than anything, was the way Jamal acted in public.

In private, things were perfect. He was sweet, thoughtful, and made her feel like the only person in the world. But the moment they stepped out together, it was like he put up a wall between them.

Jamal barely acknowledged her presence when fans or teammates were around, and it made her feel invisible. y/m tried to brush it off at first, telling herself he was just being professional, that he was trying to protect their privacy. But as the days passed, doubt started to creep in.

Maybe Jamal was only with hrr because he was bored. Maybe she was just a distraction from his busy life. Those thoughts kept spiraling in her mind, making her chest ache with insecurity.

They were out with his friends at a casual gathering, the kind where everyone was laid back, just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. y/n stood near Jamal, but he didn’t even glance her way.

He laughed and joked with his friends, and while she tried to engage in the conversation, it felt like she was on the outside looking in.

Her heart sank as she watched him, a knot forming in her stomach. Was this it? Was this what their relationship had become, just her standing there, waiting for him to notice?

y/n excused herself from the group, needing some air, and headed out to the quiet balcony. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside her.

Maybe he wasn’t as into her as she thought. Maybe she was just something to pass the time, a phase he would eventually get over. The thought made her throat tighten with unshed tears.

She loved Jamal, but she couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when he didn’t even acknowledge her in public.

She leaned against the railing, trying to gather her thoughts when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Jamal walking towards her, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing beside her.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice a bit sharper than she intended.

He glanced at her, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet.” he asked

y/n let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “That’s funny coming from you.” she said, her voice sharp and cold

Jamal’s face fell, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked clueless

She bit her lip, debating whether she should even say anything. But the hurt inside her had been building for too long, and she couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Do you even notice me when we’re out?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain.

“Because I feel like you don’t. I’m always just… there, but you never act like I matter when we’re in public.” she murmured, looking away from him

Jamal’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? That’s not true.”

She sighed, turning to face him fully.

“Jamal, every time we’re with your friends or around other people, it’s like I don’t exist to you. You act like I’m not even there, and it makes me wonder if you’re just with me because you’re bored.” she argued, letting the anger in her out

His expression shifted from confusion to hurt as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. “I would never do that to you.”

She looked down, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Then why do you act like that? Like you’re embarrassed to be with me or something.” her voice weak as she spoke

Jamal’s grip on her arm tightened, and he gently pulled her toward him, his other hand lifting her chin so she’d look at him. His eyes were filled with a mix of guilt and sadness.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was making you feel like that.”

y/n shook her head, pulling away slightly. “Then why? Why do you keep pushing me away when we’re around other people? honestly, I'm so fucking tired of being your secret” she said, her voice cracking at the end

Jamal let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought… I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to get dragged into the spotlight because of me. I know how crazy the media can be, and I didn’t want to make things harder for you.” he said, his voice sofr

She blinked, the knot in her chest loosening slightly as his words sank in.

“But I don’t care about the media, Jamal. I care about you. I just want to feel like I matter to you, even when we’re not alone.” she said

He stepped closer again, cupping her face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm.

“You matter more than anything to me,” he said, his voice low and serious.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you don’t. I guess I thought by keeping some distance in public, I was protecting what we have, but I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.” he said gently, his voice sincere and honest

y/n swallowed hard, the sincerity in his eyes breaking down the walls of doubt she had built.

“I just need to know that I’m not some temporary thing for you.” she said, her voice barely above whisper

Jamal’s thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away the tear that had finally fallen. “You’re not temporary. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” he smiled softly

His words made her heart skip a beat, and for the first time in days, the ache in her chest began to ease. Jamal pulled her into his arms, holding her close, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’ll do better,” he promised, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll make sure you never feel like that again.”

She stayed in his arms for a few moments, letting his warmth soothe the lingering hurt.

"I missed you" she mumbled against his chest, making his heart clench at her confession, not aware of the distance that has formed between them because of his actions

"I missed you more baby. I'm sorry about everything I've done" he mumbled back, his hand running down her back as a soothing gesture

When she finally pulled back, she looked up at him with a small smile.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Jamal’s face lit up, his eyes softening as he leaned down to kiss her, slow and tender.

“I love you too,” he murmured against her lips, his arms wrapping around her tighter.

In that moment, all the doubt, all the insecurity, melted away. Jamal’s love for her was real, and despite his mistakes, he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. y/n knew that the two of them could get through anything as long as they were together.

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rose-tries-to-write · 3 months

Text

Things I’ve learned about Danny Phantom after finally watching it as a person who avoided watching it for months and read fanfiction instead. 👍🏻✨

Spoiler warning, just in case!

They call themselves the Phandom. (Super cute, I love it, 10/10)

Everything, and I mean Absolutely Everything I’ve learned, is a fucking Lie. (Not fun. I have to rewrite my entire understanding. I feel betrayed. Offended. Gobsmacked. My flabbers are mf gasted. -5/10)

The show is actually really funny. (I enjoyed my experience. 9/10)

Fuck Phantom Planet. (What the fuck was that shit? Um, rewind, redo, no thx, give me back the ghostie boy please. I genuinely didn’t even finish the episode, I got to where he un-died and had to turn it off. I refuse to watch it now. 0/10)

The Phandom was right to steal canon and make it our bitch. (Trans Danny? More Dani/Ellie screen time? Actual plot and lore for the show? Actual in-depth thought to ghosts and their culture? Um, yes please. 1000/10)

Frostbite actually is a doctor. (I don’t know why, but I thought it was another thing the Phandom made up. Love to see it, 10/10)

Wes Weston deserves his own episode. (What do you mean he doesn’t actually exist. What do you mean I don’t get my LGBTQ+ undertones. This is homophobic /j. -10/10)

How do you tell when a ghost is intangible, invisible, or both?? (The show doesn’t have a differentiator between the two, so I’m always confused if people can just see him floating through walls. 3/10)

Guys in White literally do nothing but be annoying. (Another case of the Phandom Lying to us. I love it though, they make really good antagonists. 7/10)

The Fentons are stupid and mildly aggressive, but they do love their kids. (I read a lot of vivisection, child neglect, and general Bad Parents fics so excuse me on that front. 8/10)

Danny didn’t actually beat Pariah Dark? (I love the Ghost King Danny fics, so to find out all he did was shove him into a sarcophagus was a bit of a bummer. He struggles more with Undergrowth than the actual king, like?? 6/10)

He can reach inside himself to take things out. (He ate a spoon in one ep and just reached inside himself to take it out. Pretty cool. 9/10)

Is he actually dead? (Phantom Planet makes it seem as if he just got a bit too high a dose of ectoplasm in his system and it fucked him up, how else could he have just undone the damage? But, most of the Phandom says he legit died in the portal, in which case he could not have gone in and just un-killed himself like he did in Phantom Planet. I think he died, personally. More trauma and angst for my writing. ??/10)

Clockwork appears a lot less than I thought he would. So does Frostbite. (I thought with how much they appear in the Phandom, they must have really important and constant roles, but no. They appear very rarely. Sad face. 5/10)

Vlad sucks. (Vlad fucking sucks. 0/10)

Dani/Ellie is much younger in appearance than I thought. (I looked her up for reference when I first started reading the fics, but she looked 14-15. She actually looks 6-7 years old in show. They literally call her a kid. 8/10)

Dani is what she chose to be called, not a funny joke the Phandom played on itself. (I though it was a silly little haha moment. Nope. The show just… named her that. I think Ellie is the Phandoms choice in calling her?? 8/10)

Why is Danny obsessed with Paulina even while crushing on Sam? (He is actively blushing and flirting with Sam and then they’ll turn around and he’s jumping at the chance to talk to Paulina?? Hate it. 0/10)

Danny and Dash don’t actually date. (I saw this circle around the Phandom a bit, thought it was cute if a bit weird, and then it didn’t happen? 6/10)

No obsessions, no cores, no real reason for the ghosts to be terrorizing Amity Park. (I legit thought it was real in-verse stuff, I’m so disappointed in the lack of it in the show. It could have been so good. 3/10)

Danny doesn’t actually become friends with his ghosts. (They don’t really get along, ever. They don’t talk outside of fighting, except for those who actually like him. Missed opportunity. 4/10)

His Space obsession is actually just a few mentions of him wanting to be an astronaut? (I thought he genuinely had an obsession with the stars and we’d see a lot of him stargazing or word-vomiting about his hyper fixation, but no. Sad. 4/10)

He does go stargazing (maybe?) and flies around when he’s not fighting. (We see him going off as Phantom in the episode where Jazz finds out about him. There are no battles and he looks like he’s having fun flying around. 10/10)

He was called Inviso-Bill?? (Hilarious, I love it, why did no one ever tell me this. 7/10)

He says “Going Ghost!” every time he transforms. Every fucking time. (It’s annoying, it’s ugly, I hate it. I am so glad no fics mentioned this or used it, I think I’d go insane. -1000/10)

That’s all I got for today, and probably for a while. I just wanted to write it down for fun, but I might post more like this eventually.

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akxmee · 4 months

Text

★ 03. 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗬𝗘𝗧.

You looked at the man in front of you, processing his offer. Yeah, a little bit of help wouldn't hurt since you had no idea of what to pick for Satoru and Suguru. Since he was a man too, he would know about it right? Besides, it won't take more than five minutes.

"I mean, why not?"

He gave you a nod, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side as he looked at you up and down.

"So..for who might it be? Don't think you're looking for male clothes just for ya', are you?"

"No, they're for my friends."

"Right." He looked at you, then at the clothes you were looking at just before he appeared. "And how are they?"

"Nice, i guess?"

A short pause was made, the black haired man raised an eyebrow as if he didn't understand what you just said.

"..I was refering to the size. Tall, medium, short?"

You reacted immediately, embarrassed of what you had just said. He on the other hand, snickered because of that.

"Oh. Uhm, yeah. They're tall"

"How tall?"

"Really tall."

He hummed, looking through different clothes around. If they were tall, then their clothes would probably be some large size ones. He asked for you to follow him, and you did. This man who you didn't even know his name was actually pretty nice; he was between casual and polite, asking you about your friends and their style even if he mentioned he wasn't really an expert at shopping. Turns out he even had the best wallet-friendly tips and recommendations too, that's a bonus.

When you reached a specific section, his hands moved to grab a pair of hoodies, both of the same brand and in different colours.

"Then this is for you, doll." He motioned to give the clothes to you. "Won't disappoint, trust my word. I use them every now and then."

"Thanks, mr.."

"Call me Fushiguro, no need for formalities. I'm not that much older than you anyways."

He answered, folding the hoodies and helping you to get them into your cart. You thanked him, thanks to Fushiguro you were able to find lots of clothes for the boys to wear for an economic price. He didn't know a lot about combining clothes, but with a little description of satoru and suguru he had been able of making a few outfits each.

The two of you walked through every corner of the store, talking about trivial things while you collected what you thought it was best. Sometimes he corrected you and told you to pick a bigger size since that one wouldn't fit someone tall, and some other times you were the one that corrected him because your friends wouldn't wear something like that even if you paid them to. Of course, jokes were also exchanged between the two of you while the clothes were being chosen. Bad ones enough to make another clients glare at you two, but jokes nonetheless.

This time you spent with him, approximately 20 minutes, was not as awkward as you expected it to be at first. He wasn't really as intimidating as you expected him to be and his sarcasm was kinda funny, so time flew faster than anticipated.

So now you were chatting with him now about some brand he told you about while grabbing the last pair of shoes of the day to put them inside your car when, out of nowhere, a voice calls your name.

"Y/N, where were you?"

You looked behind you, finding Suguru.

Fushiguro smiled.

"So Y/N it is? Cute name."

You looked at him, realizing now that you never even told him your name. How unpolite! He told you his and you forgot something as important as that.

"Ah, yeah it is! Sorry, i didn't even introduce myself properly."

Suguru looked at you, then at the man next to you. He just looked at Suguru with that shit-eating grin still present on his face, placing his hand on your shoulder. Suguru's jaw clenched at this, but smiled nonetheless.

"No worries, doll. Is this one of the 'friends' you were talking about?"

You look at Fushiguro somehow confused because of what he just did, not knowing if it was okay for him to touch you when you met him twenty minutes ago. However, seeing how he is, he doesn't look like the type of man to care about things such as boundaries with strangers so you didn't think too much about it.

"Yeah, that's Suguru. Suguru, meet Fushiguro." The long haired male listened to you as if he was looking for an explanation, so you gave it to him. "He helped me pick some clothes for you both."

"That's right, I was just about to leave anyways." The man shrugged, taking his hand off you. "But I'm glad I made a friend. I'll see you around, yea?"

"Right! Thank you, really. I hope to see you soon!"

Oh, he was sure he would.

And Suguru was too.

And that was bad. Oh, so bad.

But he couldn't tell you, not yet.

So he simply positioned himself next to you peeking at your mini cart where you carried all of the items, pretending like nothing happened.

"Well Y/N, what did you two find for us? Don't be so shy now, tell me.."

"I can't believe you really like those cheap glasses over everything i just bought you."

Satoru just smiled, putting the glasses on and looking at his reflection in the window of the car as he posed and looked at himself from different angles.

"Watch your mouth! They're actually cool. Isn't that right, Suguru?"

The white haired man grinned, his gaze now focused on his friend. He recieved no response for a few seconds, the man was looking intensely through his window. A price tag he just ripped off the glasses was thrown at Suguru, trying to get him off his mind. He scoffed, but replied anyways.

"Sure, they suit you."

His tone wasn't teasing as he expected it to be. It held no emotion, as if his mind was somewhere else. And Satoru knew his best friend too well, so he scooped closer to him even if you protested about the fact that he didn't put his belt on. Then he talked, whispering in order for you not to hear them.

"You good, man?"

Suguru blinked, as if he didn't notice when he got suddenly closer and changed seats. However, he was soon looking at his bestfriend's eyes debating whether to tell him or not.

"I saw him today."

He finally managed to breathe out. There was no need to specify who, since he knew satoru would easily catch up on who he was refering to.

"You mean him, as in him?"

Just as expected.

"Yes."

Suguru expected some shock from him, but Satoru sighed in relief getting confortable in his seat as his body relaxed now that he knew what this was all about.

"Phew, you had me worried over there for a sec. We taught him a lesson last time, what got you all worried now—"

Suguru didn't even let him finish before adding an important factor.

"He was with Y/N."

Oh, that made more sense.

Satoru's breath hitched and he swore his seat never felt more uncomfortable than right now.

This couldn't be happening.

Not so soon at least.

Silence filled the room, a tense atmosphere filling the car's air.

"All good behind boys? You're awfully quiet."

You asked noticing the silence, you weren't dumb enough to ignore it. It was very unlikely to happen, and it always did happen when the two of them were up to something not good. You knew them too well, after all.

"Not at all! How long is it until we get home?"

Satoru asked. You smiled when you heard his voice again, excited as ever. Yeah, they were planning some kind of prank for sure. It had to be, so you better be prepared for when you get home!

It was okay, you knew every hiding spot they had at home in case they decided to call this a prank day. You knew everything about your pets after all.

But maybe you just didn't really know them as much as you claimed to do.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 🌷

—𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: kind of short chapter, idk?? Next one we'll have our boy choso <33 btw, thanks for all the support lately! Love ya 💕

—𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@kingshitonly @snake-lover-artist-blog @ashers-playpen @pizza-market @channies-bbg-room @pdacex @spindyl @foliea @queen-luna-007 @labelt-san @shiggys-chapstick

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christinebloodwrittings · 6 months

Text

To hunt or be hunted #3

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: The Vee's had the audacity to try to ransack the Hotel, Angel gets some tea and biscuits, the Terror makes herself present after 30 years of absence. Warnings: Blood, torture, sadism, Valentino's sick ass.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink

“Who is she? The demon living in between the walls?” his severe tone made Charlie’s legs quiver, Alastor’s smile widened when he noticed. “Dad, what are you talking about?” she still tried to remain calm and cheery, “You know, I thought I was going crazy, but then she delivered tea to my room” ‘Fast, think Charlie’ she encouraged herself, her thoughts going through your bond straight into your ears.

“There’s someone living in the walls?” Angel asked at the same time as Vaggie and Husk, intensifying the princess’s panic, “Dad it’s just a spell I managed to learn, after the extermination I been working on my powers” a half-lie half-truth, but that seemed to do the trick.

Not because Charlie was any good at lying, but because the rest decided not to question her, why would them? Specially her father, who relied on denial, incapable to willingly accept his daughter’s lies, rather a consequence of isolation and desperation to have a good relationship with her, even if that meant that he would have to be lied to.

Meaning, a deep part of him was aware it was a lie, but the rest, decided to let it slide, painfully so.

“Yeah? Well your ‘spell’ needs work, it’s snappy” he joked, his mask better than his fake optimism. “I’ll see to it, dad” then she excuse herself to the kitchen, being followed by a dark figure.

“My dad saw you” she busted inside, closing the door and sealing the noise inside. You accidentally dropped the spoon you were using to sample the salt level of the broth, giving the startle, which the princess earned a grimace in return.

“Technically no, I was using my veil” she huffed, her horns growing on her head, “Did you tell him anything?” she was desperate to know, giving how much her hands trembled, “Only that he looked anemic, which it’s true, then he asked for who I am, twice” There was no point in neglecting lunch simply because Charlie was suffering from a tantrum due to lack of control over her own emotions, and a lie that was eating her soul.

“What did you respond?” she slammed her fist against the kitchen island, breaking the marble underneath, causing one or another shard to bury itself into her soft skin. “Just that it was none of his business” you lowered the heat under the pot, then turned to see the princess attempting to take the little pieces of stone out of her hand.

“This is bad” referring to the situation, she kept hurting herself, until you took her wrist and levitated the shards off and threw them in the garbage. “If you like them so much, why you keep lying? You’ve seen the worst of everyone, I don’t think they will judge you, they can’t anyway” the first aid kit levitated off the cupboard, eagerly opening its lid to reveal alcohol, povidone, cotton and bandages.

“How do you confess such a thing? I have two years left to convince you, and I still haven’t made progress” she spoke as she hissed from moment to moment, feeling the sting of the alcohol cleaning her cuts, then she watched as the bandages snaked from her wrist to wrap itself around her hand, then mimicked with the color of her skin, completely invisible.

“Is it really so hard for you to understand that I don’t need to be saved?” she lifted her sight from her hands to your eyes, “I can’t just give up on you” it’s funny how you understood her urge, but simply couldn’t put up with her selflessness (obsession) sometimes.

“You can, you just don’t want to” you looked over your arm, admiring the reminiscing of your deal tattooed to your skin, like a vine threatening to tear you apart. “Anyways, quit stirring your oatmeal around, you have to eat it” Charlie gave you a pout, you knew she hated it, but since you became aware of her habit, you made sure to give her a heavy breakfast, “But the texture” she whined, getting no reaction from you, “I don’t care”.

When she left, you noticed the deer demon’s shadow attached to the princess’s, you made sure to step on it to avoid an escape on its part.

It gave you a guttural whine giving the strength of your hold, “Tell Alastor that I’ll give him roasted venison’s heart as a treat if he holds his peace” he made a thinking face, then materialized words in the air, saying “My lips are sealed up tight as a drum, chérie” then your ominous buddy slithered under the door and out of sight.

Later in the evening, around tea time, while you were cutting the heart into bite size pieces, you heard a thundering crash, a yell and things breaking. You let your nerves ease, Lucifer was in the building so he could handle things if they escalate to a mortal edge, so instead of worrying you let the meat marinate in a mixture of buttermilk, salt, lemon juice, various herbs, and spices.

“Y/n!” you heard the summon, “Valentino is in the hotel, please…handle the situation” you set the knife down, turned off the stove, “I’m on it” with that you disappeared from the kitchen in a swirl of smoke.

The scene in the lobby was horrible, the moth demon had Angel in his grasp in any way possible, one hand on his chain, two hands handling all his arms, and the remaining one fondling him with the tip of a gun.

The star’s body was bruised up to no end, mouth coughing blood, and had cigarette burns along his hands and arms. Since he had a gun, there wasn’t much the crew could do, approaching Valentino would cause Angel’s death, no matter the strategy any of the present could think of.

In between Charlie’s pleas, Vaggie and Husk’s threats, and Vox’s amused laugh, the hotel’s phone rang. The sound drawing everyone’s attention, Niffty took the old looking phone off its base, “Hello? Oh hi! Yes, he’s here, It’s for you” Vox took a few steps forward, took the phone reaching it to his ear level.

What he heard froze every liter of blood in his body, his hands, the only skin visible, paled as the voice in the other side of the line, was one he thought no longer walked this earth.

“Child” you smiled, he could feel it, “Mistress” a crawling sensation invaded Valentino´s spine, nearly cracked his neck as he violently turned his head towards his friend, “There’s a total of three thousand five hundred and seventy-five employers inside the V tower” he tried accessing his tower security camera system, but there was no connection, there was a complete blackout inside the building.

“Truly the role of overlord turned into a joke” Vox felt a pang in his side and a nauseating sensation,

“Please, please, please, don’t-” begged a voice that turned into drowned screams, “The last time we had a conversation, I taught you a lesson, recite it for me, every word that you get wrong will result into the number lowering 10 employers each” Vox swallowed a lump of saliva, as he felt the cold traveling from his toes to his neck, every bolt in his body fighting to flow correctly as he tried to re formulate a speech from thirty years ago.

“The job of an Overlord-”he lost his words, on the phone he heard it, ten times a crunching sound ten times in a row, “Again” your voice brought him back, “The role of an Overlord sovereign, is not only to torment the souls he possesses. He must be disciplined, sane, cold headed, and have the will to care for those who grant him his position and power” of 37 words he had 6 mistakes, which resulted in seventy deaths, counting in the first ten.

“Do you or Valentino enter in such description?” his ego killed himself when he had to answer, “No”, that made you smile, “What are you now and what you’ll always be?” you had to admit, the view from the top of the tower was exquisite, the warm light from the city reflected on your figure, your axe glowing in the darkness drenched in tears, blood and saliva.

“An overpowered pest” Vox answered, being seen by his nemesis Alastor such a state of shame, being ridiculed in front of the king of hell himself, and what’s worse, his drone was angled in a way his little stunt was streamed live all over hell, that was truly a delicious sight.

“Good boy” Valentino felt sick hearing you take a different modus operandi, usually you were one to jump from nowhere and strike, not to sacrifice ‘innocents’ as a way of extortion.

“Let’s make it fun, mmh? Leave the star be, and maybe I’ll consider not paying your other V a visit” Angel heard most of everything giving that Vox made sure the phone was in between him and the moth, Angel was still on Valentino´s grasp so he was being obligated to hear the slaughter.

“Val” the two overlord exchanged a look, Valentino groaned adding strength to the hold, making Angel cry in pain, “If I hear another sound of his throat I’ll knock down Velvette’s door” the two Vee’s heard their team mate voice at the distance, right in between your warning.

It all fell onto Valentino’s shoulders, but even him wasn’t that dumb, he walked forward with Angel, placing him at arms reach from Charlie, then he let go, “It’s done” you walked far from the door as you heard the bitterness in his voice, “Lovely, now, put Alastor on the line, please” he did as told, as the smiling demon hit him with an amused look on his face.

“Vox” he placed the phone near himself, “I better don’t catch you lurking around in the district” when you wanted to, your voice could be as warm as a fireplace in winter, but also as cold as being buried alive under a snow avalanche. “Understood” he passed the phone to Alastor, shakily so.

“Hello?” Charlie was stunned, Alastor’s mannerisms shifted, she wasn’t sure how, but they did. “Let me know when they leave” he heard the lack of amusement in your voice, the same you had back at his old studio. “They’re out” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Good, you’ll get your reward when I come back” You lowered the trinket that could be called a telephone, however the static of his voice caught your attention, “Vais-je m'entendre avec votre compagnie, ou me laisserez-vous manger tout seul ?” (Will I get it along with your company, or will you let me to eat all by myself?), Alastor caught Charlie then Lucifer’s stare, both surprised at the new voice he used when speaking French, smooth, velvety even.

“Will it make you happy if I joined you?” he wasn’t expecting you to understand him, but it pleased him to no end, “Oui chérie” (Yes darling), his antics made you miss the old times, “Maybe some other time, I am running late for dinner preparations” his smile didn’t faltered, but he was disappointed, “I’ll make sure to leave a glass of wine waiting for you in your studio, maybe in exchange of another song?” Charlie would have your head on the wrong end of her trident if you were to neglect your job.

“Merci chérie, which will that be?” you took a moment to process how attractive his voice sounded, before answering, “Surprise me” then you hang up.

Later that evening, Charlie repeated the way she wished to talk with you, busting the door open and sealing the noise, “What’s going on with you and Alastor?” ‘Straight to the point I see’ you thought while stirring the pesto sauce to fully combine it with the pasta.

“Nothing, merely sympathy towards a comrade” perhaps that wasn’t the right term, but it was what you could think of, “You two had met already?” she made her way to the cupboard, taking out a few plates, “Not directly, but I like to think we both were aware of the other, but simply decided not to engage” it would’ve been deadly to have done so, perhaps for both Alastor and yourself.

“Dinner’s ready, since I am not to be seen, I guess you can take it from here, make sure Angel eats it all” you left her even more confused than when she walked in.

Alastor made his way to his studio after dinner, finding the cooked little bits of venison carefully plated, next to a glass of Pinot Noir wine. He would never utter noises that would degrade his so beloved reputation, but at the first bite, he couldn’t resist letting a small moan escape his throat.

At 3 am, the so called ‘Devils hour’, a knock interrupted Angel’s poor attempt to patch his wounds up, “Charlie, it’s late for ya’ to be…who are you?” he opened the door, finding you, fresh from the shower, it may have been a bit insulting to show up in your ruined working attire all drenched in blood, so you thought best to freshen up before making an appearance.

“I believe you already know that” he recognized your voice, it made his breath hitch, “What are you doing ‘ere?” his courage faltered giving his wounds, but if he was going to die by your hand, he wasn´t going to go quietly.

“I been in your place before” Angel’s eyes fell upon the red tin box, then scoffed, “Yeah sure” his strength faltered, laid his side against the door frame, trying to make it look cool, but failing.

“Whether you believe me or not it’s not my concern, however, those wounds will get infected if not treated correctly, giving your line of work that would be a tragedy” Angel pondered for a second, in defeat he pushed the door to open it completely, granting you access.

“Exactly how you’ve been in my place before?” he asked, watching you take a seat in his bed, taking multiple things out of the box, “You are one of four demons with powers to the level of royalty, you own thousands if not millions of souls, you dared to challenge the fucking Goetia clan and won! I doubt you were ever in pain before” he sat next to you, your image above the rest popping into his head like an epic cinematic of a great villain arc.

He then had to snap out of it due to a sound, “You fucking laughin’ at me?” you held your laughter against the inside of your clothed elbow, making the spider feel embarrassed and a little scared. “I apologize, but your ignorance astounds me” you signaled him to wait, with a snap of your fingers there was a bowl of warm water and a cotton rag, applying an antiseptic to the water before starting to palp softly on Angel’s wounds.

“The correct terminology is ‘were’ dearest, I used to be that kind of demon, now, I’m just here to aid you” Angel found that hard to believe, but didn’t questioned you, rather enjoyed your care.

“Is it true?” after a long time of you washing him, he broke the silence, making you look up from the cigar burns on his hands, “Did you really murdered three Goetia?” that brought you memories, when you were young and hungry for power, almost nostalgic.

“What would make you believe me? Their severed heads or the scars on my body? Because I can only offer the latter” he hissed when the rubbing alcohol touched the cut on his eyebrow, “People say you had their heads hanged on your wall as trophies” you laughed again, people’s bad mouthing can get to be really impressive, imaginative even.

“I would truly be a monster if I didn’t offered my fallen opponents a dignified burial, don’t you agree?” You had challenged three lesser lords to duel, to death of course, which they had agreed to, spoken and in paper, you would never be as foolish as just bust the door open and kill whomever.

“Please don’t speak of my presence here, if you are good, I’ll make cannoli for tea time” he could see that you were in a similar situation as his, being owed, as well as your subtle urgency. “Sure toots, I won’t”.

“Hey, can I ask, why Axe-man?” he spoke, when you were finishing to brush alcohol on the cuts on his back, “The local paper and the New Orleans police named me that, I just didn't want to change it when I got here, and people respect a man killer more than a woman, or that’s how it used to be” he didn’t needed stitching, if Valentino wanted to really hurt him, you’d probably would have to sew limbs together.

“That’s it? I mean…I thought it was somethin a bit more dramatic” you despised (understatement) the Italian new York accent he spoke with, but he was nothing like the Italian mobsters of yesteryear, he walked with the grace of a runway model, proud of his looks, his fame, himself, but masked all his pain and self-loathing within. You felt as if you were staring at a younger version of yourself, so full of life, yet lacking purpose.

“Well at the time no one could think a woman was smart enough to participate in politics, much less kill someone, I embraced that alter-ego over time, it became a second skin…so to speak" it was wise to believe that last statement.

Angel hummed in agreement, getting a good look at you. Yellow-beige skin; the heel of your hand was hard and rough probably because of your lion looking appearance, big fluffy yellow ears on each top side of your head almost disappearing into your hair. Taking out the ears, the long heavy tail, and the black cat nose you have, you could pass for a human, or almost looking similar to Charlie.

He was so tempted to touch your tail, color that matched your skin and the ears, but you got up before he could reach.

“Now, take those pills, every six to eight hours should help with the pain and the swelling, I suggest you take it at a much appropriate time” he watched you as you gracefully poured tea into a white and pink tea cup, leaving it on his night stand along with a little biscuit.

“Thank you” your ears twitched happily, “My pleasure, dear, rest” never, not to any living soul, would you admit that you enjoyed being useful, but it made you feel lighter, like breathing fresh air for the first time.

“By the way, the butler aesthetic suits you, ya’ look hot”

“Thank you, I have to look the part, don’t I?”

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

Author note: No matter what type of body you have, you would slay in that outfit!

Part 4

156 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 5 days

Text

Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x Fem!Reader

Laughing at every jokes he make

You find yourself on a romantic stroll with Remy LeBeau, where his playful jokes and charming demeanor lead to a deeper connection. As your laughter draws you closer, you both realize there's more than just flirtation between you, culminating in a tender and passionate moment.

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the streets of New Orleans, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the lively hum of jazz music in the distance. You found yourself walking alongside Remy LeBeau, your hand barely brushing against his as the two of you meandered through the quiet backstreets. The gentle breeze carried with it the rich smells of the city and a sense of anticipation you could feel in your bones, a feeling heightened whenever you were in his presence.

Remy had insisted on taking you out for a stroll, away from the chaos of your usual lives as X-Men, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. It was impossible to say no to that roguish smile of his, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could see through his devil-may-care attitude to the heart beneath. Today, though, Remy was especially playful, cracking jokes at every turn.

“Y’know,” he began, his deep Cajun accent weaving through his words like music, “if de X-Men ever decide t’fire me, I got a back-up career as a stand-up comedian.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and airy, though the joke itself was far from laugh-out-loud funny. “You sure about that? You might want to keep practicing.”

His grin widened, eyes flashing with a spark of mischief. “Practice? Chère, I’m already a master. Ain’t nobody got charm like Remy LeBeau.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, a little louder this time. There was something about the way he said things, like he didn’t care whether they were funny or not—he was confident you’d laugh anyway. And, of course, you did. It wasn’t just the jokes themselves, though. It was the way he carried himself, with a swagger that spoke volumes, and the way he’d glance at you, his red-and-black eyes lingering just a little too long, sending a shiver down your spine.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he leaned in closer. “Now you laughin’, but I know y’thinkin’ I got potential.”

“Potential to get booed off the stage, maybe,” you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder, your eyes crinkling at the corners from how hard you were smiling.

“Ah, chère, you wound me!” Remy dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt, though his smirk gave him away. “Lucky for me, I got a beautiful girl like you t’keep me company. Long as you laughin’, dat’s all dat matters.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the casual compliment, even though you were used to his flirtations by now. Being called “beautiful” by Remy was like being told the sky was blue—he said it so often, you’d think it would lose its effect. But it never did. It always felt like a small flame igniting inside you every time the word passed his lips.

Your laughter faded into a quiet smile as you glanced up at him, watching the way the evening light softened his sharp features. Remy had a way of making everything feel light, like the weight of the world could fall away when you were with him. He was always making jokes, always teasing, and you always laughed, even when they weren’t all that funny. It wasn’t that his jokes were bad—they just didn’t always hit the mark. But the way he looked at you when he delivered them, with that lazy, confident grin, you couldn’t help but laugh. Because he was trying, and because, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, his laughter became contagious, drawing your own out of you like a melody that was meant to be sung.

As the two of you continued walking, you noticed Remy glance at you out of the corner of his eye, the smile on his lips softening. There was something different in his expression now, something quieter and more thoughtful. He stopped suddenly, taking your hand in his without a word, guiding you toward a small, secluded park nestled between two rows of charming old houses.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling you toward a bench shaded by a large oak tree. The branches above rustled gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the ground beneath your feet. Remy sat down, his hand still holding yours, and patted the spot next to him.

You sat, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, your hand still tingling from his touch. The playful banter had died down now, replaced by a silence that felt… deeper, more intimate.

“Y’know,” Remy began after a moment, his voice quieter than before, “I been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often that Remy got serious, and when he did, you knew it was important. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked at you, his red-on-black eyes meeting yours in a way that made your breath catch. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout us.”

There was a pause, the words hanging in the air between you like the last note of a song waiting to fade. You weren’t sure what to say, so you waited, letting him find the words.

“You always laugh at my jokes,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even when they ain’t so funny. Why’s dat, chère?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. It seemed so simple, but the way he asked it—like it meant more than just the surface—made your heart stutter in your chest. You glanced away for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, before looking back at him with a smile of your own.

“I guess… I just like hearing you talk,” you said, feeling the truth of it even as you spoke the words. “Doesn’t matter if the joke is funny or not. I like being around you, Remy. You make me feel… lighter. Happier.”

His expression softened at that, his smile turning more genuine, more tender. “Dat so?” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, his voice low and smooth, like the soft rumble of thunder in the distance.

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, it is. I don’t think I could stop laughing around you even if I tried.”

For a moment, Remy said nothing, just watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle. Then, without warning, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin longer than necessary. His touch sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

“Y’know,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ ‘bout how lucky I am.”

“Lucky?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, the world around you seeming to fade as the space between you and Remy grew smaller.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand still resting lightly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Lucky dat someone like you’d wanna spend time wit’ someone like me. Wit’ all my bad jokes an’ all.”

You laughed, the sound soft and breathless, and Remy’s smile widened at the sound. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Remy’s eyes darkened slightly at that, and you could feel the air between you shift, becoming charged with something unspoken. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the world narrowing to just the two of you, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Remy leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Can I kiss you, chère?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you nodded, unable to form words. The moment you did, Remy’s lips met yours, soft and warm, sending a surge of electricity through your entire body. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as Remy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, every thought in your mind dissolving into the sensation of being this close to him. His lips were firm yet soft, his touch tender but possessive, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Remy rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, shallow pants. He smiled, a real smile, the kind that reached his eyes, and your heart swelled in your chest.

“Now dat’s a punchline I can get behind,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

And just like that, you laughed again, not because the joke was funny, but because you were happy—truly, completely happy.

#marvel xmen #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel #xmen imagine #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men x reader #x men #comics #headcanons #imagine #x reader #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gambit

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cypheroo · 7 months

Text

Morning Confessions | Laurence Zvhal

"Hi can I request a fic with Laurance complementing the reader but she doesn’t believe him and he tries to prove that he serious?"

Word count : 774

Tw : none?

AN : SO, I tried to follow the request :) AND I have two more Laurence ficss coming soon (a siren x Laurence one and an angsty Laurence one both of which are long asf), so I wanted to get this one written!

Laurence was so handsome…he had such a charm to him, and gosh even just a light graze of his touch would send Shivers up your spine. And he knew this, he knew because he looked at you a lot more now than before. His ‘accidental’ touches seemed to happen more now.

Some people would say he might be feeling the same way you do, but his eyes were for lord aphmau, not for you. And those thoughts alone kept you from asking him if he felt the same. He was just teasing you at this point, toying with you the way a flirt would with anyone, you and him being friends didn't make much of a difference either.

And this morning was no different, Laurence and you were both sitting in the town square, both sipping your respective drinks, chatting the early morning away. It was so nice, being able to meet with Laurence like this, sure you wished you'd be able to call this a date…but it was ok! You were content.

“Really! Come on, how long do you think Brendon will really be into kawaii-chan?” Laurence questioned, “I dunno? The real question is when another person will catch His eye” you answered jokingly. “True. I'm surprised he hasn't tried his hand at aphmau” Laurence joked before he took another sip of his drink. You Shrugged and Looked back out at the main square looking around, no one was really out this early, most still being inside asleep. It was quiet for a moment before you felt Laurence's eyes on you, you held still trying to act like you didn't notice, “your eyes look really pretty against the morning light, has anyone ever told you that?” Laurence asked, his voice a tad bit more serious this time.

You felt your stomach get butterflies over his words…his tone, and the idea that it Was directed to you? You turned your head to him and laughed softly, “and who are you trying to impress Mr?” You asked as you shook your head, “you're just being nice” you cleared your throat trying not to sound too shaken up by his words. “No, I'm being serious. your eyes are absolutely beautiful, if you don't mind” as the last Few words of his sentence left his mouth he set his drink on the floor and slowly cupped your cheeks, forcing you to face him, “let me get a closer look, honey” the pet name rolling off his tongue easily. His eyes narrowed as he focused on your eyes.

You felt your face get warm, hell you felt your whole body get warm as the man in front of you studied your face, “your eyes are stunning” he moved his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head.

You couldn't take it as you pulled away and stood up, “oh wow, haha. Funny joke Laurence you can quit it now” you waved him off and faced away from him, trying to calm yourself down.

“joke?” Laurence joined you in standing up. “I'm not kidding. seriously” he insisted. Before you looked back at him with some fake unimpressed look. “Laurence you gotta stop testing out your little pick up lines on me” you said with a small smile and furrowed brows. Your look was matched with laurences confused look, “testing? You think I'm testing them on you?” He asked, almost flabbergasted. “yeah? For lord aphmau, you know full well she'd never let you cup her face like that” you continued with a small hum.

Laurence was quiet for a while, he was absolutely surprised you'd even bring lord aphmau into this when he had been trying to hint at you for months about his feelings about you.

“none of anything I've said to you has been for testing, not for lord aphmau or anyone else.” He stated, his eyes slightly more assured, “to put it quite frankly you're the only one I've used these ‘pick up lines’ on. His words were very self assured which made you confused, “wait so…everything you've said- no way laurence” you couldn't even fathom it. “No way? No way I'm looking at you with hearts in my eyes?” Laurence joked as he crossed his arms. “No way I say these things to get you flustered?” He continued, “no way I say what I mean?” He whispered close to your ear.

You shook your head, “no that'd mean-” you started as Laurence nodded, “that I've fallen for you?” Laurence finished. He nodded with a laugh. His hand slowly grazing your shoulder as he moved in front of you, "Baby, im in love with you. And eyes don't lie. It's clear you feel the same, " he purred as he moved closer to you. "So understand my words are made for only you to hear," he continued. "So please... take my compliment?" He asked with that stupid smirk you hated to love. It was when your eyes met his once more that you slowly smiled and nodded.

Tags :

#x reader #x you #reader insert #aphblr #mcd x reader #laurance zvahl #Laurence x reader

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killersfool · 11 months

Note

hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭

falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them

being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!

kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?

eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!

spending valentine’s day together!

something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?

softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!

telling each other how much they love them

them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer

hope these spark your writing :))))

Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON

here's a short little thing inspired by this request!

PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader

WORDS: 1.5k

SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNINGS: references to throwing up

I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.

I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.

I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.

Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.

I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.

I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.

Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.

I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.

Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.

I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.

He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.

"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.

"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.

"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.

Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.

"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.

"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.

"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.

He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.

"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.

Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.

His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.

I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.

Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.

"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.

There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.

Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.

#elijah hewson #elijah hewson oneshot #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson imagine #eli hewson #inhaler band #inhaler imagines #inhaler oneshots #inhaler dublin #fanfiction #inhaler fanfiction #robert keating #bobby skeetz #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #inhaler #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine

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