#of trying to figure out what is going on with smells and such

[thechaoticcherub]

Some mean qz!joel pleasee

Rents Due

pairing: qz!Joelxreader

warning: dubcon/noncon, mean!Joel, virginity loss, blowjobs, one instance of mouth spitting, size kink, pussy/dick pronouns, no use of y/n, lack of aftercare, seriously joels pretty mean

word count: 2,078 (I got carried away with this one)

Song I was listening to: Blue Hour - Anna Graves

The springs on the old bed you were asleep on creaked as Joel eased himself down next to you. It was early in the morning, predawn when the light was cold and blue, seeping in through the grimy window. Your stomach clenched in fear the second you became conscious. You knew exactly what this was. It had been the same since the first month you had started living in this apartment in the Boston QZ. 

“Rents due,” Joel gave your cheek a pat and you looked up at him, silently pleading that this wouldn’t happen. Every month he would come into your room, extract his “rent”, and leave you reeling, feeling broken and burdened. It was all bullshit. It wasn’t like he paid for this fucking apartment, that wasn’t how it worked in the QZ and yet, letting you live here meant he could do what he wanted. 

“No…no, no, no,” Your voice was groggy and your eyes were still crusted with sleep but Joel reached down, to the hair on top of your head, curling his fingers around it and tightening his grip. 

“You ain’t got a choice, kid,” he growled. Pain woke you up even more as he pulled on your hair, dragging you off of the bed, your knees hit the cold ground and he adjusted you so you were right in front of him. Joel had been a scary figure in your life for a few months now, barely around but foreboding when he was but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave the relative safety of this worn down apartment, you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him either. No matter what the “rent” was and how much you hated it. Joel tilted your head back to look up at him as he methodically began to undo his belt. You let out a little frustrated whine, 

“I don’t…I don’t want-” “We goin’ to have this argument every fuckin’ month?” he asked as his belt came undone and then the button of his jeans and the now familiar sound of his zipper sliding down. You shut your mouth and tears started to burn at the corners of your eyes. You knew he’d just plug your nose if he really had to but you felt like you needed to put up a fight, you just had to. Despite how you felt after it was all over, despite the sticky mess in your underwear when he was through with you, you needed him to know you were disgusted by it. Joel watched as you obstinately shut your mouth so he reached out with his other hand and held your face in his hand, pitching your cheeks together. Joel leaned down, his face getting close to you, you could smell him. Sweat. Burning. Tang from alcohol maybe. It wasn’t as unpleasant as it should have been. 

“You open up for me, I’ll go easy on ya,” He said. Maybe that was a promise that was worth it. It was always the same with Joel, on your knees in front of him, mouth open and taking his come either in your mouth or on your face. Nothing more. Nothing less. The promise of it going easily was enticing so you parted your lips, he let go of your cheeks, his other hand still locked in your hair. He was still directly in front of you looking at your willingly open lips. You could see him smirking. Joel leaned in close and for a second you thought he was going to try and kiss you, which was completely unheard of, instead he spit directly into your mouth. 

You were so shocked, the spit nearly dripped out of your open mouth, 

“I had to reward ya for bein’ a good girl, didn’t i?” he asked and before you could answer he had pulled his cock out and forced the blunt head into your mouth. You let him slide it along your tongue, into the back of your throat, using your hair as a anchor he rocked his hips forward. You gagged, your own saliva mixing with what he had spit into your mouth and dripping down his cock. 

Joel was your first experience with a cock, you had absolutely zero to compare it to but you knew it was large. Your lips felt tight around it and you gagged easily on it. Joel groaned as you tried to swirl your tongue around the tip. You wanted to make this fast, you wanted to get it done with. Looking up at him from your knees, he looked all dark, blue in the fuzzy predawn light. Maybe your eyesight was just still bleary from sleeping. He seemed unreal, even as his cock tickled the back of your throat, making you gag again but he held you down, forcing you to keep it in your mouth. Joel pulled your head back off of him excruciatingly slowly, 

“Lick it like ya love it, darlin’” He instructed. You licked around the fat head of his cock, paying attention to the underside of it, feeling the foreskin move under your tongue. “Atta girl,” Joel said. “You do love it, don’t ya?” He laughed. “You love my cock,” His hand held himself at the base while he forced you to lick and suckle at the tip. You whined and didn’t reply, his hand tightened in your hair and he pulled you off of his cock completely,

“Say you love it an’ I’ll keep bein’ nice,” he growled. Nice? He had practically choked you with his cock not five seconds ago! 

“I love it,” You sounded defeated. Joel snorted,

“yeah right.” he said. “get on the bed,” You stared at him, confused. This was new, he had never changed positions, never wanted something other than you on your knees sucking his cock and now…

“What?” you asked dumbly. Joel’s free hand came out and gave you a sharp smack on the cheek, not so hard that it left a mark, but hard enough to wake you up to the situation,

“You fuckin’ deaf? Get on the bed.” he let go of your hair and you hesitantly got up and sat down on your bed. Joel stood up and shoved you back so you were laying down before reaching down and grabbing your pajama pants, yanking them down along with your undies. You squirmed away from him, crossing your legs, 

“What are you-”

“I’m playin’ yahtzee, what the fuck do you think i’m doin? I’m goin’ to fuck you. I said I’d be nice,” He grabbed your legs to try and pry them apart but you struggled. 

“N-no! I’m…no! I’ve never…I haven’t done-” There was a brief moment where Joel stared at you and you thought maybe he wouldn’t do what he had always done which was take what he wanted. But then he smiled this sick, sinister sort of smile, 

“Nobodies ever buttered this pretty lil’ biscuit?” he asked as he tried to ease your legs open. His stupid, country saying just pissed you off and you pressed your knees together tight. 

“Please don’t,” you whined. 

“Aw honey, you ain’t gettin’ away that easy. Spread ‘em,” He started to force your knees apart now and you tried to struggle back. He finally got your knees open and he pressed his elbow hard into your thigh to keep your legs open. “Oh she’s real pretty, can’t wait to get to know her better,” He said. you let out a choked whine. The thought of the cock that usually choked you being shoved inside of you made your stomach clench up with fear and maybe a little of something else but you didn’t want to admit that. Joel moved up so he was kneeling between your legs, one hand still holding your leg open. He grabbed his cock, palming it up and down as he looked down at you, spread out for him on your bed. 

“Now, he’s kind of a big guy,” Joel said, replacing his hand with his knee, pinning it against the bed to keep your legs open. You stared down between your bodies at the languid way he rubbed himself. He was just looking at you, no one had ever looked at that part of your body and his eyes were just drinking you up. It disgusted you. It infuriated you and it made your tummy boil with need. He settled down between your legs, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. “So we can do this one of two ways,” he continued. “We can go easy does it and take our time letting him open her up. Or we can get the worst part out of the way and do it all at once,” You struggled a little as you felt the head of his cock start slowly burying itself inside of you. You let out a cry and shook your head. 

“Ohh you don’t wanna decide?” he asked, his breath caught in his chest as he pressed himself into you, just barely starting to stretch you open. You shook your head, ‘No! I don’t…I don’t…” You whined, clenching up. 

“Yes you do want him, that’s why she’s gettin’ all leaky all over me,” Joel laughed. “But fine, you don’t wanna decide-Jesus, girl, you’re tight- I can decide,” Without warning he plunged himself into you, filling you up, stretching you open. You screamed. He was so big it felt like you had ripped open for him, pried apart to accept him inside of you. Tears filled your eyes and with each blink they dripped out of your eyes, sliding down your temples. 

“Shh,” Joel whispered, “Probably better to do it all at once, you’re a tight lil thing,” he said, “i’ll let you get used to him a second,” He was still and actually reached out and stroked your hair back. It was strange to feel his hands be gentle. He slowly started to rock back and forth, making a little room for himself inside of you. There was a spark in your belly, the pain had burned through you and left a tingle. The tingle was pain and pleasure meshing together. You breath caught in your chest as he started to draw himself out of you. Involuntarily, you lifted your hips towards him, wanting him back inside of you.

“Aw, you missin’ him?” Joel asked with a strained laugh. You felt yourself nod but it felt almost out of body. Joel pushed himself back into you and that pain, pleasure was inescapable. You wanted more, more of his cock, or…just more of somethign you didn’t know what. Joel was chasing his own pleasure more than anything, practically ignoring your need but loving that you were needy. 

“Shoulda done this sooner, kid.” He groaned, as his hips pumped back and forth, repeatedly opening you up to him. Your pussy felt like it was on fire in all the best ways and you just needed a little more but Joel was edging closer and closer to his finish and his thrusts became erratic. You tried to grind yourself down on him, wishing you could make yourself beg but you couldn’t force the words out of your mouth. 

“J-Joel,” you moaned. 

“You want my come?” Joel asked, “That what you about to ask?” He knew it wasn’t but it was too fun to mock you a little. You whined in frustration,

“Joeeel,” You whined again, still not able to say anything else, unable to come up with the words. 

“Go ahead, darlin’, beg for my come and I promise I’ll be nice.” He growled, his voice rough, right on the edge of his orgasm. You were silent. Joel grabbed your jaw again, giving you a rough shake, “Beg.” He instructed.

“Please! Please, I want your come!” you cried, brow furrowing. 

“You shoulda just said so,” Joel mocked, he pumped himself in and out of you as deep as he could go a few times, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix before he ripped it out of you. Ropes of his spend landed against your lower tummy, dripping down onto your pubic hair. “Did ya think ya were gettin’ it in your cunt?” Joel asked as you stared down at the mess. 

“I-” 

“Gotta be a real good girl for that,” he said. “Maybe next time.” He added before leaving a quick kiss on your forehead and getting up off the bed.

Thanks for reading! I love all the likes but remember the writers put their stuff out for free and the only thing we get is comments and reblogs. So please consider reblogging so more people see my work! Love you!

[sheepispink]

lowerranksoldier!Reader who, after an unfortunate fire, is forced to share rooms with Lieutenant Ghost of all people. Unfortunately for reader, they’re only coping mechanism is balling their eyes out every night

fluff, silly, ghost being a lil protective ;)

part 1

—————————

Loud alarms blared around the block in which you stayed in the barracks, shaking you from your slumber and making you blink haphazardly as the noise now vibrated through your entire body. It sounded like the fire alarm, and whilst you were usually awake by the sound of your commanding officer’s footsteps, it was such an unusual sound that it hadn’t startled you this time. Figuring it must be a drill, you quickly climb out of bed, following the other equally exhausted soldiers out of your room. However, your eyes quickly snap awake as a strong burning smell penetrates the area. You cough immediately, seeing that a blazing fire had somehow consumed the room directly next door to you. It made sense now– the fumes had been the one to make you so drowsy– so you quickly slap your sleeve over your mouth and nose, glancing back one last time at the bright orange flames that threaten to lick at you before dashing away down the corridor with many others your age, struggling to get outside into the fresh air.

You were out on the freezing tarmac for nearly three hours before something was done about the fire– all because of some stupid idiot who couldn't be bothered to walk two steps outside to smoke his cig. The girl beside you leans against your shoulder as she groans, exhausted– you don't even know her but trying times really does bring people together you suppose.

Similarly, that’s exactly how you got placed in this predicament, not even close to qualify as a Sergeant and somehow standing before a Lieutenant’s room. Just with your luck, the fire had spread into your room seconds after, consuming quite a few rooms on the corridor. You were in nothing but some crappy pajamas, not that you cared about that right now when you had been sent to the lion’s den itself.

‘Lieutenant Ghost’

the label read, standing proudly beside the door that you’re terrified to knock on. When the assignments had gone around, everyone was in a chatter, some excited to finally room with the soldiers they admired and others partnered with officers that were similar to hell itself. Well, you’d take any officer who’d make you do jumping jacks before bed if it meant you didn’t have to disturb a lieutenant—Ghost of all people too. The stories were terrifying enough on their own, and you’re praying the ground swallows you right now before you have to actually go through with this. At least that girl will remember you– maybe she’ll even give a speech of how you lent your shoulder to her. It’d be better than your gravestone reading ‘death by being too much of a coward.’

Gulping, you carefully lift your hand up to the door, hoping that the Captain with a fuzzy beard who watched your reaction with a tired grin was actually right in doing this and not just preparing your funeral in advance. The rap of your knuckles echoes in the quiet corridor, everyone else already rushing to get to bed and continue with their sweet dreams. Each second of silence fills you with more dread but soon enough you realise that there’s no sign of movement in the slightest. Was he on deployment? Hesitantly, your hand rests on the handle, swallowing down your fear for a split second to hear the creak as it turns.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” A scream would’ve escaped if not for the fact your hand flew off the handle and over your mouth, spinning around to face the bulk of a man standing menacingly beside you. Your phone and uniform drops from your hands, some of the smaller things they had managed to recover before the fire caused too much damage to the room, clattering to the floor as you step back in pure fear.

“Sir— I-I- A fire— my room- gone- the Captain sent me—“

You force yourself to do a firm salute before saying everything you were supposed to say yet nowhere near a comprehensible sentence as you stare with wide eyes at his terrifying stance. A black balaclava marked with white to form a skull imitation is all you can see, apart from his eyes and the tufts of blonde hair peeking out in the corner of his hood. He had clearly just come back from working out, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark circles in the small space you could see his eyes.

“So you’re staying in my room cause some idiot caused a bloody fire in your barracks?” His gruff voice is just as loud as before, making your shoulders jump again before you quickly nod at him. “Yes sir!” Only a scoff is what you get in response, a key in his hand that he slips through the door before entering the room. “Well pick up your things and get in then.”

You clutch the folded uniform in your hands, the small pouch of essentials and your phone both slipped into your pocket, as you enter the bland room. Infact, it may have even been too bland— there was practically no decoration whatsoever unless you counted the small calendar on the wall. “Guess they’ll grab you a mattress tomorrow.”

You nod again, even if he isn't even glancing back at you, already heading into the bathroom to freshen up. Meanwhile, you patter over to the small couch, barely your height but you’ve learned to be grateful that you’re not sleeping on the bareground with active threats around. Carefully you set the clothes on the floor by the couch, sitting awkwardly. What you didn't expect was that he’d completely ignore you for the rest of the night, following his own routine whilst you’re too terrified to even breathe in case he decides that’s wrong.

Somehow you survive the first day, and the second—the mattress and more of your belongings included this time. He had begrudgingly moved his things around to let you push your little make-do bed against the corner, and now you took up a tiny part of his room. He wasn't there most of the day, and the same would be with the nights if you had a normal schedule. However, your commanding officer happened to hate your group— rightfully so because of the others— and it sucked for you. That meant you were up late every night, sometimes so late you saw him lounging in bed with a book in his palms. Weirdly enough, you never saw him sleep, not even once, and soon he started to just drift into the background for you— like he was like a part of the furniture.

The weekend finally hit, two weeks of being in a room where you’re barely comfortable to make more than three noises an hour and finally, Ghost was sent on a deployment. The news was confirmed by some idle gossip in the lunch hall earlier, a few other soldiers stuck with the other members of his team. Safe to say, you were well over the moon about it, practically skipping back to your quarters this evening. Nope, no time to grab any drinks in town or laugh till you knock out— tonight's plans were something you’ve needed desperately for two weeks but Ghost had stripped from you.

A damn good cry.

It was hardly the most ideal coping mechanism—nor the most respected. Especially considering your ‘sad’ playlist, where you collected the most heart wrenching songs you could find, was what put you in the mood. Though you consider it a pretty good reward especially after how frustrating these past few weeks have been.

—---------

Ghost returns at 0200, the mission being cut short due to intel they found that solved the issue fairly quickly and he was shipped back to base for the night. He creaked the door open, noticing immediately your arm slumped over the side of the mattress. For a second it makes him pause, the same images of a corpse splayed just like that but he snaps himself out of it before he ends up checking your pulse like some kind of nervous wreck.

Pulling off his gear, he realises the room is much cleaner than he left, or than it usually is— by a mile. The gear he left scattered on his bed before he left has been tidied into his cupboard, not to mention the floor has been hoovered up all nicely and the occasional wrappers have been picked up. The bin has been emptied, as well as the dust from all the counters wiped down, looking much more alive than how they’d usually appear. Hell, even his bed has been made nicely. There were a few snacks lying on the small table near the door, crisps, candies—whatever. You must’ve gone to town at some point and brang back whatever you could hide in your shirt. Typical rookies.

When his eyes settle on you again, he notices you look noticeably more tired than usual but surprisingly relaxed. When he’s around, you usually fall asleep pretty stiff and stay that way for the majority of the night, though your limbs are spread like a starfish now, face smushed into the pillow you placed against the wall after accidentally banging your head a few times. He doesn't pay much mind to it—you could sleep upside down for all her cares— ready to turn in for the night when he notices a small shine on your cheeks, the moonlight reflecting off of it. He pauses, wondering if he should just leave it before deciding to just take a small peek and peering over your shoulder. Your cheeks glisten as you breathe quietly, small little droplets on the pillows and the faintest trace on your eyelashes. Then again, it’s not really his business.. Right?

—--------

That became a little too of a regular occurrence for his liking, and coincidentally he noticed it the most when he was supposed to be out– that was understandable though, a rookie of all people would not want to cry before him. Though, he’s more focused on why this is happening so often– it must be because of something, right? He’s seen soldiers cry before, sure, when they’ve witnessed too many deaths, when they douse themselves in alcohol post op or even on the benches outside base, head in their hands and their sergeant badge hidden. It’s not the most common, but it’s definitely not something he frowns upon either. But it’s been a month of non-stop late nights for him and twelve times he’s seen your cheeks wet like that– yes he had counted.

Now that he thinks about it, you did return back rather late compared to the other groups, exhausted and crawling beneath your thin blanket almost immediately. It was normal for a commanding officer to be strict and enforce punishments but every day? That was strange.

So, when his schedule finally clears up, he happens to see– definitely didn’t look on purpose– your whole group kept back well into the evening, screamed at and most of you looking very exhausted when it finally ends.

“How long is the work day for the privates meant to be?” Ghost sits in Price’s office, nursing a tea on the off chance he’s free whilst his captain flicks through some information again. He seems surprised by the sudden question, glancing over at the lieutenant before scribbling down something. “Not long— usually eight am to five pm. Maybe six latest, why?” He hums, flicking the page over only to hear the lieutenant let out a grunt in return, swallowing down another gulp of his tea.

“..Seen one team that always stays still eight. Barely get scraps in the mess if they’re lucky.”

Price leans back on his chair, not expecting that and especially not the information from Ghost himself. Well, he does have a keen eye for a lot of things but something tells me it’s not that. “So, if i look into it, I s’pose i’ll find your roomie there, hm?”

Ghost scoffs, pulling his mask back down defensively as he places his empty mug on the table, looking at him with a glare so narrowed the Captain knows well it’s nowhere near serious. “Information always stems from somewhere.”

“Alright, alright. Don't go interfering now, i’ll handle it.”

———————-

So, the Captain solved the problem and the latest you finished now was six on a bad day, though that didn't stop you from coming back to his room extremely late. You don't look as exhausted though, so that’s a win in his books but he’s curious to see where you’re going instead.

And maybe he followed you once, or twice.

The first time you went to the mess and talked with your friends all evening, going to lounge around with the few of them who never had to share a room with the officers. But the second was a Friday, and you had ditched your friends’ plans, walking round the base till you found a nice secluded bench in the darkness. He’s confused for a moment, wondering why you’d just sit there but he can't get a good angle from where he stands near the wall. Surely you didnt just go out for fresh air every night until it was late?

Then he hears it, the soft sniffle and the leaking music from your headphones— he has no idea what band that even is but damn does it sound depressing. With a sigh he steps back into base, what the hell are you doing to him?

———————————————

You near towards your room with a yawn, having spent way too long in the bathroom trying to rid the red puffiness from your cheeks. That was the issue with having your sessions elsewhere, it was such a hassle having to hide your face. Though, it’s not like you cared much about hiding it from Ghost, it’d been almost a whole month now and it was very safe to say he didnt give a damn about you in the absolute slightest.

The door opens with a soft creak, your feet already taking you towards your mattress as you rub sleepily at your eyes. Until you see a pair of black boots where you usually kick off yours.

Confused, you raise your head until you come face to face with the Lieutenant.. who’s sat on your mattress and staring at you in a way that’s almost like those monsters in the stories. Does he even blink? You can't help but just stand and stare at him, utterly confused and mentally wracking your head for answers as to why he’s staring at you like you’re the one who's acting off script. He started it, not you!

And of course, stupid as you are, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Why are you sitting there like you found porno mags under my bed?”

Silence rings loud between you two, but your head is like a rave with how loud you're screaming at yourself for blurting out something that stupid in front of your superior of all people.

“Should I be checking for that?”

“No- no!” You quickly shake your head, before realising what that implies and waving your hands frantically in front of you as you struggle to get your point across. “I- i have no porno mags! Nothing! You can check! It was a joke!”

He looks at you a second longer before rolling his eyes up at you, making you freeze again in horror; the hole you’ve dug yourself was definitely 6 feet now, maybe it’s time to bury yourself.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He mutters, arms crossing over his chest but his eyes dont narrow into a glare, nor do they hold his usual stern gaze, instead a mix of curiosity and.. exasperation.

Confused, you teeter on your feet, shifting your weight back and forth. “So.. is this about me as a soldier..? Me as a person..? Wait— did i forget to flush the toilet or something?!” Your face burns red and he almost wants to facepalm right then and there, but he doesnt, scoffing lowly.

“No—every night you got bloody tears on your cheeks. What is wrong with you?”

He insists, being as straightforward as he can—probably to stop you from being so dense and finally answer the damn question. Alas, instead you stand completely block solid in front of him, cheeks growing warmer at the second as you process what he had just said. He knew about the tears. How long? Surely only recently.. right? What if it was longer? What if he had cameras in the room? What if—

“If you don't answer it, I'll write an official report to get a shrink for you.” He says, voice slightly stern this time, and thankfully snaps you back to life because you immediately stumble out “No!”

He raises a brow at your adamancy, and you sigh, fingers tugging at the hem of your worn shirt as you face him, the terrifying lieutenant that’s currently interrogating you about your constant tears. He might as well parade your grave around while he’s at it.

“It’s just umm.. like..”

“Like?”

“Its just like stress relief yknow..” You mumble, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you try and word it in a way that doesn't make you seem like more of the idiot he already thinks you to be. “Like when people hit things when they’re angry, I cry every now and then ‘cause it makes my chest feel less heavy.”

He was half expecting you to blurt out a long lifestory, maybe about how your parents didn’t agree with your military job, or you’d seen too many injuries on the past mission. Hell, he was waiting for you to just complain about how your arms hurt too much or some superior was yelling at you. So now he feels like a fool, all those conflicting feelings stored up in his chest that he figured was just down to morality, was all for nothing.

“So.. there’s nothing wrong.. at all?” Your eyes widen as he stands up, even if you were the tallest person alive, his stance was enough to still you. The way he looks at you is almost skeptical, which is ironic because he knows shouldn’t even be caring in the first place and yet here he is, interrogating you.

“I mean.. no?” Then you blurt out the second stupidest thing you’ve said all day. “Were you worried about me?”

The scoff that follows is almost immediate as he turns away, heading over to his closet to pull out his sleepwear, which mainly only ever consists of a t-shirt and joggers anyway. “Dont get ahead of yourself-“

”Then why’d you ask?”

He grumbles in response, ignoring your question and starts switching off the mainlights, which is odd considering he tends to read before bed anyway. “You were acting weird. Besides you kept cleaning my side of the room.”

Oh. You had done that. As much fun as it was to cry whenever you got exhausted, you sometimes tended to blast some music in your ears and have a spring cleaning session— every damn week that is. Back when your old roomies were out for the night, you could belt out any song you wanted dramatically whilst cleaning up the mess that became your room during the week. Oops.

”Just a habit whenever i have nothing to do.. yknow, clean up the mess.”

”Is your other habit listening to depressing music?”

“You know about that too?!!” He’s purposefully teasing you know, and it’s blatantly obvious in how he chuckles after your retort, tugging his socks off and into the small laundry basket for later.

”You’re hardly secretive. Just cry whenever you want, but dont go letting anyone see.” He says gruffly, and you pause, wondering why he said that. Did he think of you as embarrassing, or even shameful?

“Because it’s stupid?”

He turns to you properly and gives you a sharp glare, not before rolling his eyes at your remark. “No, because i dont want bullying allegations on my head. Don’t got time to be reprimanded for scaring off another rookie.”

He turns towards the bathroom, knowing damn wel that hlare has you frozen like a deer, before stopping in the door frame. “Oh and if you find a bloody thumb in one of my pockets, just throw it out. I bloody hate using grenades.”

You blink, once, twice— processing what he has just said. “A- a bloody what?!”

—————————

COD masterlist

buy me a kofi!

[sinnerinwonderland]

Playlist Confessions. 💽

› Pairing: Jannik Sinner x Female Reader.

› Summary: She made the playlist as a joke. He changed the title as a confession.

› Word Count: 1.5k.

Halle, Germany – ATP Tournament Weekend.

It started with the hoodie.

A grey Nike zip-up — oversized, soft and worn-in at the sleeves. She hadn’t packed for the breeze that came after sunset and Jannik, ever casual, had handed it to her without a second thought. No innuendo, just “Here, wear this.”

Except it was his hoodie.

The same one fans had seen him wearing to practice earlier that weekend. The same one that smelled faintly of eucalyptus and his aftershave. And when she walked next to him wearing it later that day, it was impossible to pretend like nothing was going on.

Someone snapped a photo of them walking side by side — his cap low, her hand curled around a takeaway coffee — and by that evening, it was all over social media.

The real twist? Jannik didn’t say a word. Didn’t laugh it off. Didn’t correct anyone.

The giveaway? Someone posted a side-by-side comparison: one picture of Jannik wearing the hoodie during training, the other of her in it that afternoon. Same color. Same fit. Same oversized sleeves nearly swallowing her hands.

He’d glanced at her once while waiting in line for sandwiches and just smiled. That quiet, secret kind of smile that sent her brain into a full reboot.

Her pulse had never returned to baseline after that.

─ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅

That night, in the hotel room they were sharing — as friends — she couldn't stop replaying the moment in her head. How normal it had felt, walking next to him in his hoodie. How easy it was to imagine what it would be like if it weren’t just by chance, if they weren’t pretending not to feel the very obvious, very unspoken thing between them.

So she made the playlist.

It was a dumb little thing, built between midnight and 2:00 a.m., full of songs that reminded her of him — moody, sweet ones and some with lyrics that made her kick her feet like a teenager. She titled it the only way her pride would allow:

“If I Were in Love with Jannik Sinner (Which I’m Not)”

Harmless. Secret. Just a little coping mechanism.

Except the next day, she left her phone charging on the nightstand while she showered and Jannik needed to Google something for a press briefing. Her phone was closer than his, and honestly, it wasn’t a big deal — they had this unspoken habit of using each other’s phones now and then. It was always unlocked near him, always within reach, and he was only going to use the browser, that was the plan, anyway.

He didn’t mean to snoop, he swore he didn’t. Her phone was already open on Spotify, screen still lit from whatever she’d last been doing before her shower. He only glanced — barely. Just enough to catch the playlist title staring back at him.

“If I Were in Love with Jannik Sinner (Which I’m Not)”

He blinked. Stared. Read it again. And then? Froze.

His heart stuttered so hard it felt embarrassing.

He tapped on it, couldn’t help doing so. Just one little look.

The songs were soft, personal and specific. The kind of tracks you send to someone when you want them to know how you feel without actually saying it. The lyrics? They weren’t subtle.

It was love, in mixtape form. And his name — his actual full name — was in the title.

He let out a soft, stunned breath. Ran a hand down his face. Was this real?

He looked at the bathroom door, the shower was running, she had no idea he’d seen this.

Jannik sat there in silence, phone still in hand, while his whole body buzzed, like his limbs couldn’t figure out what to do with the rush of hope suddenly pouring in.

Because all this time, he thought it was just him. The stolen glances. The stupid smiles. The way he kept giving her his hoodies and waiting to see if she’d keep them. He thought she was just kind, that she didn’t feel it like he did.

But now? Now he was certain and giddy. In an actually-smiling-like-an-idiot-while-trying-not-to-combust kind of way.

And when she came out, still toweling her hair, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, phone in hand, his thumb paused over Spotify.

She froze. “Hey— wait, what are you—”

But his face was unreadable. Not teasing nor smug, just calm.

“I didn’t mean to look,” he said. “It was already open.”

“Oh my God…” she whispered, lunging to grab the device but he held it just out of reach, eyes still on the screen.

“This playlist…” he murmured, then looked up at her. “Is it new?”

She wanted to disappear into the carpet. “Delete it. Pretend you never saw it.”

He didn’t respond right away, just typed something fast before handing the phone back to her like it weighed nothing at all.

“I’m going down for breakfast,” he said, standing. “Want anything?”

“…No.”

He didn’t say another word, just smiled to himself as the door shut behind him, heart thudding like it was a match point and she’d just served him love.

And for once? He was okay letting her win.

When she saw it, she’d know he saw her. Knew her. And that he felt it too.

─ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅

She waited until he was out the door to check what he did.

And there it was.

“If I Were in Love with Jannik Sinner (Which I Am)”

Her stomach dropped. In the best, worst, most terrifying way.

He hadn’t just seen it, he answered it. With one small, quiet edit that changed everything.

─ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ─── ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅

She tried to play it cool. Really, she did.

She even stayed curled in bed for an extra twenty minutes after he left, phone clutched to her chest, heart absolutely not functioning like a normal human organ. She stared at the edited playlist title over and over:

“If I Were in Love with Jannik Sinner (Which I Am)”

And when she finally made it downstairs to breakfast? He acted like nothing happened.

“Morning,” he said, all breezy and bright, sipping juice like he hadn’t detonated her entire emotional stability before 9:00 a.m.

So she spent the whole meal in hell.

Now it was late morning and he was flopped back on the hotel bed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, flicking through tennis videos on mute. She stood near the window, arms crossed, trying to work up the courage to say something.

“You’re really not gonna bring it up?” she asked finally.

Jannik didn’t even look over. “Bring what up?”

She threw a pillow at his face.

He caught it easily, grinning now. “Oh. That.”

“Yes, that! You—” she flailed towards her phone on the nightstand, “—you renamed my playlist and then left like some smug emotional hit-and-run artist!”

He sat up on his elbows, the barest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. “It was already open, couldn’t help it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you thought changing the title was what? Funny?”

“No,” he said. “I thought it was accurate.”

Silence. Her mouth parted slightly, heart doing that dumb hiccup thing again.

“Oh…” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly quiet. “Oh.”

The tension in the room thickened, but it wasn’t heavy — it was warm. A suspended moment that had nowhere left to hide.

“You could’ve just said something,” she mumbled, barely looking at him.

He tilted his head. “You mean instead of emotionally decoding a playlist that literally had my full name in the title?”

She flushed. “That was supposed to be ironic.”

“It was adorable,” he corrected. “And it made me very, very happy.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He stood now, walking towards her slowly.

“Really,” he said, voice low. “I’ve been losing my mind over you for months.”

And then, in one smooth motion, his hand found her waist at the same time his lips found hers.

It was soft at first — tentative, almost surprised with himself by the act of courage and with a hint of fear that he had messed it all up — but when she leaned in, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, it deepened into something that made both her toes curl in her socks and him lose the remnant of doubt that still lodged in the corners of his mind.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, pink and a little stunned, she whispered against his lips:

“So… what now?”

He grinned. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

She laughed. “Guess I’ll have to make a new playlist.”

He kissed her again, softer this time, forehead pressed to hers.

“Just name it: Jannik Sinner is so in love with me it’s embarrassing.”

“Too long…” she said, smiling.

“Worth it.”

[alanisstonedd]

busted | singledad!ony x teacher!reader

an: so cute! i love themmmm. i’ve had this one in the drafts for a while now yall, please enjoy! send me ya nasty asks

cw: fluff, suggestive themes, black!reader, cussing, single dad

you hear a soft knock, blinking up from your laptop a little confused. it’s 1:30 and your kids are in science, currently grading with the little free time you do have today - you certainly were not expecting any meetings.

but when you focus your eyes on the figure at the door, you don’t even know why you didn’t expect that shit. amira’s father is once again standing in your classroom doorway, shoulders broad as hell in a white tee and grey sweats, clutching a little pink jacket in one thick hand. go figure.

you squint, not only at his unplanned appearance at 1:30 on a wednesday, but more so at the jacket “it’s… 85 degrees.” you can already smell the con he came in here tryna fool you with

he shrugs, biting his lip like he don’t even care about the excuse anymore. but he locks eyes with you and steps in slowly like he hasn’t been here a million times already. “mm — yeah, she said she was cold earlier. y’know kids. gotta be on go.”

you fold your arms, smiling despite yourself. he really is relentless — this is like the fourth time he’s been in here this week and you’re only three days in. “they in the art room right now, ony.” you sing-song, standing up and rounding your desk to give him your full attention. i mean he’s already here, smelling like you wanna climb him until your legs are around his head… it would be rude to not give him at least a second of your time.

“oh, word?” he steps farther in, looking around like he’s seeing it for the first time or something. “well… I could just leave it.” he mumbles, licking his lips at you, and it feels like he just turned the heat on in here.

this is precisely why you hate him coming in here like this — because as soon as you see that big ass frame tryna bust out of that white tee, that sweet smile that also somehow says “i’ll man-handle you and wear yo ass out”, and what maybe or may not be a bulge inbetween two huge thighs that you’re unsuccessfully trying to avoid… you fold like a damn chair. your will power is never strong enough to withstand this man and his apparently unyielding desire to see you.

but he doesn’t “just leave it”, of course, the man always has another plan.

instead, he sets it on amira’s desk and plops into the nearest tiny chair. you almost bust out laughing at how ridiculous he looks — this ass big man, all thick thighs and grown-man muscle, folded into a desk built for 7-year-olds.

you lean against your own desk, raising an eyebrow. you can’t help but smile at him grinning up at you like he’s so happy with himself. but he knows you already folded.

“you good, mr. ony?”

“mhmm.” he tilts his head, eyes trailing over your frame. drinking you in. wishing you’d move a little closer so he could reach for those hips. “you look real good today miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧. real professional. definitely too fine to be up in this school single…”

you roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “you here to flirt with me or to bring your child’s unnecessary outerwear?”

“it can’t be both? you know i need my miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ time…” he says, full grin, unabashedly and very obviously undressing you in his head.

“mhm, you a piece of work ony.” you’re trying to keep it together — you really are. hut this man’s sitting there all big and broad, sweats straining against his big ass legs in that tiny chair, hand stroking his sexy ass beard while he watches you like you’re art — eyes shining like the things he’s imagining doing to you right now have no place in this classroom

“so how’s your day been, miss ୨˚̣��̣͙୧?” he asks, and all the sudden you’re hot with just those simple words, his voice all low and seductive. “you eat somethin’ today? drink your water? anybody holla at you yet or i’m the first lucky man?”

you tilt your head, snickering. “is that how you talk to every teacher?”. you sass back, fronting like you don’t want his flirting but you can’t deny the fanny flutters you get when he comes in thirsty for you.

he leans forward, tryna reel you in even closer than you already are, resting his arms on the tiny desk like it’s the most natural thing in the world. little does he know, you wanna lock that damn door and show him off-the-clock you.

“nah,” he says, eyes glinting with that mischief that makes your clit throb. he knows he got you — or at least got your attention. “just the one i’m tryna take out for dinner… then dessert… and then breakfast.”

your breath catches, and he immediately sees that shit because he’s been watching you like a hawk since he came in here. watching you every move, your beautiful face and all your expressions like he wants to know every single one you have, jealous of the way your hands get to hold your juicy hips and thighs.

he stands up realllll slow, walking toward you, caging you in — close enough that the desk’s edge is flush against your booty, that the heat from his big frame is making your face hot. making all of you hot. you try to stay calm. professional. but his voice drops to that dangerous whisper.

“y’know how hard it is not to grab yo fine ass and kiss you every time I see you?”

you blink up at him, heat crawling up your neck and down into your pussy. his hands on the desk behind you, boxing you in, his hips dangerously close to your hips.

“ony, this is not—”

his hand slides up your thigh slow like he wants you to feel it, hiking your leg up just slightly against his body. he leans in slow enough to show you he’s not scared, lips barely brushing yours, eyes flicking between your mouth and your eyes like he’s starving. he wants you in his bed already. the holding-back is not for him, but if he keeps this up, he might do something regrettable in this elementary school classroom.

then, suddenly, just as you’re about to lean in and suck his tongue like yall are alone, his hands gripping you up and pressing you against him like he craves to do every damn day —

SLAM.

the classroom door swings open.

you jump against your desk. he steps back lightning fast, not ashamed but… you could loose your job right? ‘course he wants to have you, but ideally without that possibility.

amira skips in like she owns the place, completely oblivious to the little situation happening in there just moments before.

“hi miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧! miss smith said i could come get my water bottle!”

she grabs it off her desk, “oh, hi daddy…” and gives you both a sweet little wave before skipping back the way she came in…

but she pauses mid-skip and turns around…she squints at you both like she knows something, then smiles like the devil. she lets out a little “mhm..” before continuing on her way back to science class.

but not before blurting “quit kissin’ on the mouth with the door unlocked!” you hear a sneaky giggle and then she’s skipping right out the door before yall can even speak.

you and ony are still frozen in shock — then BURSTING out laughing. he collapses forward into you, head on your shoulder, muffling a full-body laugh into your shirt while you wheeze with one hand over your heart. she too smart for her age.

you shake your head, smirking. “you ain’t right, mr. ony. almost got our asses busted.”

he grins into your shoulder, like he doesn’t even care. “she really said on the mouth… we wasn’t even…”

© 2025 alanisstonedd. all rights reserved — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

hope yall liked this! likes, comments, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!

xoxo, lani 💋💋💋

[twola]

Firewater - Chapter 9

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

Dinner and a date? How unlike the two of you.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin, @globetrotter28

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You hadn’t expected him to follow through.

Not really.

But there you were, walking into the saloon in town beside Arthur Morgan—clean-shaven and wearing his least-dirty shirt, looking like a man about to meet his girl’s daddy for supper.

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced at him. “Did you bathe for this?”

He shot you a sideways look. “Figured if I was takin’ a lady to dinner, I ought to at least smell like soap instead of sweat.”

You smirked. “Not sure you’re a gentleman yet, but I’ll give you points for tryin’.”

Inside, the place smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and something vaguely fried. Not exactly fine dining, but the little corner table Arthur led you to was surprisingly clean. A single candle flickered in a cloudy glass holder.

He pulled out your chair with a smirk, gesturing for you to sit.

“Arthur Morgan,” you said, amused, “are you courting me?”

“Depends,” he said, sitting opposite you, the candlelight catching the gold flecks in his eyes. “Would it work?”

You tilted your head. “If I said yes, would that mean you’d stop tryin’ to get under my skirt every ten minutes?”

Arthur leaned back, grin lazy and dangerous. “Oh no, I’d still try. I’d just buy you dinner first.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

A waitress brought over two steaming plates of stew, and Arthur ordered whiskey for both of you. You dug in with a contented sigh.

He watched you eat for a moment. “You gonna marry that spoon or what?”

You licked your lips slowly. “I might, if it kept makin’ me feel like this.”

Arthur choked on his drink.

You shrugged. “What? Ain’t my fault the stew was good.”

“Reckon I should’ve picked somethin’ less sensual than stew,” he muttered, half to himself.

You leaned forward on your elbows and nibbled on the spoon in a way most folks would find inappropriate in public.

Arthur raised his brows, smirking. “You tryin’ to make me ruin this table?”

You chuckled, sipping your whiskey in reply.

As the bottle emptied, so did your inhibitions. Banter turned to flirting, flirting to heat.

Arthur licked his thumb clean after a bite of bread, and you stared far too long.

“You good?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” you said. “Just picturin’ that mouth somewhere else.”

He exhaled sharply, clutching his glass like it might steady him. “You say that kinda thing, and you expect me to behave myself?”

You swirled your drink and gave him an innocent look. “I said you had to take me to dinner. Didn’t say nothin’ about how we’d end the night.”

Arthur’s gaze darkened.

“’Cause if we’re bein’ honest,” you continued, voice low and silken, “the food’s nice, but I’ve had better.”

Arthur pushed back his chair with sudden purpose. “Come on.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was rough, amused, hungry. “I paid for a room. Got the key. Let’s go before I do somethin’ improper at this damn table.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you stared at him, then stood.

The walk through the saloon crackled with electricity.

Every inch between you felt like fire. You didn’t touch, but his hand hovered near the small of your back, and the moment the upstairs hallway door clicked shut behind you, you moved.

He backed you gently into the wall, lips ghosting over yours.

“You sure?” he murmured.

You slid your hands into his collar, tugging him closer. “Shut up and kiss me.”

The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single oil lamp. Somewhere outside, the piano clinked out a sloppy tune, muffled by thick walls and heavier breathing.

Your dress hung halfway down your arms, Arthur’s hands resting at your waist like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or drop to his knees. He looked… almost reverent, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

You broke the silence first.

“If you stare at me like that much longer, Morgan, I might start gettin’ self-conscious.”

He blinked, mouth twitching into a grin. “Sorry. Just didn’t expect heaven to have tits like this. Don’t know why it took me so long to get you naked.”

You snorted, tugging the rest of the fabric off and letting it fall. “Flattery’s cute. Get your damn shirt off.”

He obeyed with a grunt, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside. When your eyes swept over him—broad chest, old scars, the trail of hair down his stomach—you bit your lip.

“You are a big bastard,” you said, half-laughing. “No wonder my back still ached from last time.”

Arthur chuckled, stepping closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time breakin’ you in proper.”

You arched a brow, and pushed your dress down to the floor along with your drawers. “You’re talkative tonight.”

“Whiskey,” he replied. “And you walkin’ around lookin’ like temptation itself.”

When his hands touched your bare hips, everything slowed. He looked down at you, thumb brushing your side, the pads of his fingers callused but warm. He looked you up and down—from your breasts down your waist to that apex of your thighs he’d recently visited so often, where dark hair covered your most sensitive skin.

“I ever tell you how pretty you are?” he murmured as he dragged his thumb under your belly button.

You rolled your eyes. “Once, I think. Right after you had your head between my legs.”

He gave a short laugh. “Well. That still counts.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, soft at first, then deeper.

Before long, he was walking you backwards toward the bed, the last bits of his clothing tossed aside between kisses, gasps, and muttered swears. And when you were both finally bare, standing at the edge of the bed, the mood shifted—just for a heartbeat. The two of you stood, completely nude to each other for the first time.

Arthur stared at you like he’d been shot clean through. His hand reached up, brushing lightly over your ribs, then lower, his fingers parted that thatch of hair to slide between your folds, already finding you aroused.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re…”

“Don’t you dare say beautiful,” you cut in, smirking as your fingers encircled his cock, squeezing gently.

“Was gonna say dangerous.” He grunted, watching your movements intently.

You smiled. “Damn right.”

He kissed you then, slower now. Deeper. The heat was still there, but something else had crept in, like he was memorizing you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you nudged him back toward the mattress. Arthur wasn’t expecting to be pushed.

Not hard—but firmly enough that his back hit the mattress with a soft grunt, his arms instinctively catching him before he leaned all the way back.

You were already on him, one knee sliding up the edge of the bed, hands braced on either side of his chest, a smirk playing at your lips.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low. “This is new.”

You gave him a slow once-over, admiring the long, broad stretch of him beneath you—shirtless, pants long gone, the lamp’s golden glow casting soft shadows across every muscle and scar.

“Figured it was my turn,” you said, shifting to straddle his pelvis. You settled down on his cock, your folds parted as his length settled against your most sensitive skin.

His hands found your hips like they always did, fingers twitching with the urge to squeeze. “Not complainin’. Just surprised you didn’t do this sooner.”

“I like lettin’ you think you’re in charge,” you said sweetly, beginning to rock back and forth over him. “Keeps you well-behaved.”

Arthur chuckled, head tilting back against the pillow. “You ain’t ever known me to be well-behaved.”

You leaned forward until your mouth was just shy of his, hands flat on his chest. “Maybe I like it better when you don’t behave.”

He caught your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin beneath your ribs. His eyes burned, but he let you lead. For now.

You leaned down and kissed him slowly and deliberately, like you were daring him to pull control back. He didn’t. He kissed you back just as deeply, groaning low in his throat when your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Your hips moved slowly over him, the head of his cock pressed hard against your clit, deliciously.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he muttered against your mouth.

“That’s the point.”

You shifted again, watching his jaw clench as your hips rocked forward, just a little, enough to make his breath stutter. His hands tightened on your waist, but he didn’t flip you over, didn’t pin you down.

Not yet.

“You always so good at takin’ your time?” he asked, voice rough.

You dragged your lips along his throat, up to his jaw, speaking just beneath his ear.

“Only when I know the man under me’s about to lose his damn mind.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh—but it broke halfway through when you moved again. His fingers dug in now, trying and failing to stay still.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

“I think I do.”

His head dropped back again, voice low, almost reverent. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You kissed along the lines of his chest now, every inch you touched making him twitch beneath you. He gritted his teeth when you bit down lightly near his collarbone.

“You gonna let me have my way?” you asked, feigning innocence.

Arthur looked down at you, eyes dark and amused and strained all at once. “For now.”

You sat back upright, trailing your hands down his stomach, slow and warm. “That sounds like a threat.”

“Ain’t no threat,” he said. “Just a promise.”

You leaned down one more time, your hair falling like a curtain between you.

“Then you better make sure I remember it.”

He growled low—half frustration, half praise—and let you take your time doing just that.

When you took him in your hand and then sank onto him, the noise he made wasn’t even a word. Just a desperate, throaty groan that made heat bloom low in your belly.

He gripped your hips hard, not guiding you—just holding on. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as you moved, fast and rough, all tension and no rhythm, like you were both trying to chase something you couldn’t quite name.

“Goddamn, girl…” he rasped, fingers flexing on your waist. “You tryna kill me?”

You grinned through your gasp. “You could’ve had worse ways to go.”

The tempo shifted, rougher, deeper. He met your thrusts now, matching you beat for beat, until the air between you turned to fire. Nothing but sweat and breath and soft curses under your breath as your pace turned frantic.

His hands gripped your thighs now, arms tight, body straining.

“I ain’t gonna last,” he warned, voice tight, voice wrecked.

You were barely listening.

“D-don’t you dare come—”

You ground down hard on his pelvis, his hands crushing into the meat of your rear with bruising force.

“I—fuck, woman… I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, not yet, Jesus—please—” you whined, rolling your hips on him the fastest and hardest you’d ever done, chasing that precipice you seemed so close to. Your clit pressed hard against his pubic bone, and you sloppily rode his throbbing cock. “I need to come, I need—”

Arthur’s head fell back against the pillow as he gritted his teeth, hands leaving your hips to dig into the mattress.

“Let me come, let me—Arthur—”

He was beyond words as you gyrated above him, grunting and panting as he screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately not to give into the pleasure. You bore down on him, throwing your hips hard against his, chasing that feeling that seemed just out of reach.

You were so close. You could almost taste it. The friction of the curls at the base of his cock against the sensitive skin of that nub of your pleasure—that, that’s what did you in.

“Jesus fuck—” he grunted, the sheen of sweat on his brow glistening as you ground down on him, your hips jerking with a sense of finality.

You stuttered unintelligible words in a high-pitched gasp as your whole body tensed over him, muscles clutching, cunt squeezing. His eyes shot open and he lost the fight.

“Shit—!” He gritted, and nigh uncontrollably, his hips thrust upward and he came, all of his energy seeming to be pulled out of his body through his cock, spattering pulse after pulse of spend into your warm depths.

Your hands pulsed on his abdomen as you whined, panting as you came down from your own high.

“Shit.” He grunted as he watched you climb off him, a trail of milky fluid slowly making its way down your thigh.

“It’ll—it’ll be okay… I’m about to bleed. I’m sure it won’t take.” You panted, grabbing a handkerchief from the bedside table and wiping the moisture from your skin. You tossed the wet handkerchief at Arthur’s face, and he sputtered in disgust, throwing it back at you.

By the time he grabbed you and dragged you back into bed, the drying spend on your thighs was forgotten.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TYRANT- J. MILLER

day twenty four of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! dilf! joel x fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: you're home for the summer and the local bar is having a western night- and a certain older cowboy catches your eye. good thing you know how to lasso them in and ride them good...

warnings: SMUT- reverse cowgirl ofc, heavy praise kink, petnames, swearing, size kink, daddy kink, hair pulling, joel lowkey mocking and being all condensending, truck sex in the parking lot (kinda exhibitionism?), heavy flirting and sexual tension, intoxication

this is inspired by the time my local bar was hosting a country night and i made a "cowboys only" tramp stamp... yeah

“tyrant every time i ride it, every time i ride it/ make it look so good, try to justify it- boy, i know they're lookin' for me, how we gonna hide it?/ ride it like hydraulics, i am such a tyrant"- tyrant, beyonce

It had started as a joke.

And then, it hadn’t.

You had no marks on your skin, free of ink. Except for the eyeliner that had been used instead, for tonight.

It was Western Wednesday at the local bar- the go to spot back home surrounded by hay bales and tumbleweeds. Without a question being asked, you and your group of girlfriends had gathered at your house to get ready, talking over each other with excitement, catching up as you had all retunited from time away at school.

After a few drinks had been tossed back and rollers had been placed in heads of hair, you brought up the idea. It was silly, and you couldn't get through it without bursting out in giggles.

What if… what if I got a tramp stamp? Just for the night?

It had ended with you flat on your stomach, your friend scribbling your request in pretty font, just above where your thong poked out from your low rise jeans.

Cowboys Only, with a little bow under it.

It was teasing.

Poking out from under your little tank top whenever you lifted your arms up, throwing your head back to laugh and dance with your girls.

And it had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be.

On top of an older cowboy.

He had taken his time before he approached you. Heavy, heated gaze latched onto your figure as you slid past the wooden swinging doors, chatting with your crowd. Your eyes had met his instantly. Heat pooled in your panties and you knew.

That one. I want that one.

He was older, you could tell by his weathered hands and salt and pepper hair that framed his deep, dark puppy dog eyes. That had narrowed in on you.

Like a predator had found its prey.

You waited. You never claimed to be easy, even though you had spent your time gushing about how attractive the stranger in the corner was to anyone who’d listen. You had always joked to your girls about how badly wanted an older man to sweep you off your feet one of these nights.

You hoped tonight was the night.

It had taken a drink or two for you to let yourself relax a bit more, to get used to the buzz of the chatter and the neon lights of the bar. It was then you could dance, swaying your hips seductively side to side, feeling his eyes on you as he sipped on his beer.

Observing the little font that graced your lower back.

Your eyes met his again as you made your way up to the bar, sliding up next to him as you ordered a whisky sour.

“What's a pretty lil thing like you doing here on a Wednesday night?” he murmured lowly, breath smelling like mint and tobacco.

You hummed, watching as the bartender made your drink. “Western night. I like the cowboys.”

His eyebrow raised, a ringless hand drumming the oak bartop.

“S’that so sweetheart?”

You smirked, turning to flip up your shirt, exposing the font, and a good chunk of your little thong in the process. He had already seen it, of course. You had felt his eyes on you the whole time you had danced for him.

“You haven't seen?” you giggled seductively, throwing him a flirtatious little wink as you grabbed your drink from the bartender, tossing him an extra tip as you took a sip.

The mystery man leaned in close, a hand slipping down to cup the dip of your spine. You savoured the touch, his large palm covering the ink, warm and soft as he gripped you in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game darlin.” he grumbled, southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine.

You hummed. Teasing him, as you leaned more into his touch. Letting his hand slide down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze. Letting him be a disgusting pervert, when he knew he was so much better than that.

He was a gentleman. But you made him want to be anything but.

“How so sir?”

The name sent him spiralling. Fuck it.

“Because I’m twice your age, if not more darlin. And you’re making me think about dirty things.”

You battered your lashes at him, leaning down to rest your elbows on the bar, showing full cleavage. Doe eyes wide and innocent- while your actions were anything but.

“What things?”

“I wanna take you back to my truck and show you how a real man fucks. Cause I bet that pretty lil pussy hasnt been treated right by anyone your age.”

Well. That was the truth.

You wanted to find out what it was like, just once- to see where this could lead you. His dirty words sparked that flame in your lower belly, squeezing your thighs together.

Finishing your drink in one big swig, you slammed the glass down on the wood and whipped the remaining liquid that trickled from the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Well, what's stoppin you old man?”

゜✭・.・✫・゜ ゜✭・.・✫・゜

“Fuckkkkk. Joellll-” you moaned, gripping his thighs as you slid up and down. He was so fucking big he nearly split you in half. And it hurt so good.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours honey, you know daddy doesn't like when you use dirty words.” he chuckled, admiring your pretty form swallow him up, a creamy ring formed around his base and grey pubes.

It took everything in you to not fold, your legs already quivering from the multiple orgasms he had given you already. Your brain felt incoherent.

“Mmm s’sorry I didn't mean to-”

“I know sweetheart, you're such a sweet girl. Heads just gone all dumb f’yer old man eh? Poor thing.” he cooed, taking your hair in his hands, tightening his grip on you.

Your head leaned back, still continuing to ride him in reverse cowgirl as he taunted you.

He was right. You hadnt been fucked like this before. And you never wanted to go back.

“Need s’help daddy please-” you cried, as you clenched around him again.

He knew your body like it was his own, making it sing and hum for him as he played it like an instrument. Despite him just meeting you tonight. He knew how to make you scream for him. Your voice was hoarse, and he could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Awh sweetheart I thought my lil cowgirl knew how to ride?”

You moaned as your pace was interrupted by his hips pummeling up into you, taking full control. Your back arched , your hair tugged on as if he was holding reins as you bounced from his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his thighs, a sharp cry leaving your lips that echoed off the fogged up windows of his pick-up.

“There you go darlin, just needed your daddy to help ya out yeah? My sweet girl just needed someone to take control of this tight lil cunny.” he whispered, a cocky smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm for him.

That damn ink flashed back at him- and he couldn't help but feel proud of himself for fulfilling the claim.

“S’good Joel, you feel so damn good…” you moaned, sweat trickling down your body, the smell of sex clinging to you like a second skin.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum again?”

“Please, need to-” He chuckled lowly.

“Go ahead baby. Askin so nicely, always with the manners. M’gonna keep a sweet thing like ya around, ya understand?”

You nodded feverlishy, cuming around his cock with a cry as it hit that one spot that had you seeing stars. Basked in the comfort of his strong hands as they left your hair, finding their way to rest on your hips.

“Joel..”

“M’almost there sweetheart, just gonna use you for a lil okay? That sound okay baby? You just sit there and be all pretty.”

He moaned, letting his head roll back as you clenched around him tightly, biting his lip so hard he almost tasted copper.

“Fuck you're so tight. Such a sweet little cunt. Knew she’d take me so good.”

A few more sloppy thrusts into you and he was spent, filling you up to the brim, cooing sweet nothings at your worn out frame. He had fucked you so hard you knew it was a closed case.

He was the only cowboy you wanted. 

[wynnevee]

teething

dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader

synopsis: a little blurb about girl dad bucky and his metal arm—a little angst, mostly cute.

warnings: bucky’s past, insecure bucky, adorable girl dad bucky, crying babies

“shhh, i know, i know, honey.”

baby rebecca was barely four months old and already, the teething was unbearable—so much so that nights of restlessness and countless rejected soothing toys became a staple in the barnes household.

“what do you need, baby girl? daddy’s tryin’ so hard here,” he cooed, leaning back on the couch. as becca snuggled into his chest, gazing up at her father, bucky swore he could hear her little voice in his ears.

‘daddy, it hurts! why aren’t you helping me?’

he frowned, chest aching as he brought a cool metal finger to brush some tears off of her chubby cheeks. “i’m sorry, honey, but i don’t know what you need… is it mama? do you want your mama?”

he had been trying to give you a much needed night off but at this point, he was desperate.

becca gave a less than definitive coo, squirming in his arms, and for a split second, bucky was sure that he’d somehow made it worse. that was, until, she latched onto the finger, gargling in contentment as she began to chew.

he froze, brow furrowed as he watched her tears clear, all of her problems seeming to vanish as she gnawed on his finger.

his metal finger.

see, ever since you’d told him you were pregnant, bucky was… weird about his arm.

sure, it had been an issue early on in your relationship, but any insecurities were relatively short lived as you coaxed him into relative comfort. after a few months with you, he’d even grown to like his arm. you helped him feel like it was truly a part of him, not the weapon he once viewed it as.

and so when you had told him you were pregnant and all that healing fell apart before your very eyes, you were incredibly concerned.

suddenly, his nightmares of it crushing your windpipe, driven with a life of its own, reappeared with disturbing vividness—and just as quickly, he’d taken to abandoning his arm on the dresser across the room.

once becca was born, bucky became a master of one armed parenting. of course, he kept his arm attached in case of emergency, but the thought of tainting his precious little angel kept him from embracing it like he once had.

but now, as he watched her nibble on his fingers, a gummy smile stretching across her face, it was hard to think of it that way.

it had been a week of this teething nightmare and absolutely nothing could soothe her—except for his arm. except for him.

“does that feel better, babydoll?” he whispered, unable to stifle his smile as she cooed up at him. “you like daddy’s arm?”

“i think she does.”

bucky looks up, smiling softly as he sees your figure hiding in the shadows, leaning against the doorframe. “i told you to stay in bed.”

you shrug, moving forward into the stripe of moonlight in the middle of the nursery. “she likes the arm,” you say, ignoring his comment. “in fact, it’s the only thing she likes right now.”

he looks back down at becca, gaze softening as it always did when his eyes met hers. you sat just beside him, leaning on his shoulder.

after a long moment, he looks back to you with tear filled eyes. “i don’t deserve her.”

she sighed. “jamie—”

“i mean, look at her!” he exclaims, voice still hardly above a whisper. you oblige, watching as becca eagerly bites on his finger, unbothered by her parents conversation—she was adorable, but your focus couldn’t help but be captured by the way your husband looks at her with such reverence in his eyes. “she’s so innocent. she just showed up here one day and she doesn’t know what’s going on or—or what this arm has done—”

“you know what she does know?” you interrupt, knowing better than the let this spiral spin out. bucky looks back to meet your eyes, and you meet his pout with a gentle smile, massaging is shoulder gently as you speak. “she knows that you’re her daddy. she knows that you’re warm, and you smell nice, and that you have the magic hand that makes her feel better… and she knows you love her endlessly.”

he shakes his head, looking down at the baby, who had began to drift off. ��i just… i never thought i’d get to have this. you, her, any of it.”

you lean in, kissing his cheek softly. “and you deserve it more than anyone.”

[darknight3904]

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Twenty- Letting Go

Tommy Miller x Reader, Slowburn!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Jackson isn't all it's cracked out to be as you dodge Tommy and try to convince Joel to hold onto Ellie

Warnings for this part: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Late November 2023, Jackson 

You wake up the next morning with Joel still wrapped around you. His hair tickles your nose as you turn to the doorframe where the floorboards creak. Ellie stands there, her hands fidgeting as she stares at you and Joel. 

“Did you wanna go get breakfast? Maria said that we could go down anytime, but I didn’t wanna go alone so…” 

“Yeah, give me a second, I’ll get dressed, Lemme get Joel up too.” 

“No, uh, just you.” Ellie says, her next words are a little forced, “Girl time or some shit, y’know.” 

“Oh, uh, alright.” 

Joel doesn’t stir as you slip out from under him. You push a pillow under his head and fix the blankets around him before turning to pull your clothes on from last night. Ellie waits for you out on the porch, her new purple coat zipped up to her chin. 

The snow crunches as you walk with her. She’s quiet today, if anything, you expected her to be chatty and talking about your new surroundings. You sit across from her in the community hall, steaming bowls of oatmeal in front of you while a delicious-smelling cup of coffee washes yours down. 

“Did you ever want kids?” Ellie asks when she’s done with her meal 

You’re swallowing the last sip of coffee as you stare at her. 

“I dunno. World went to shit before I even had my first real boyfriend. I guess when I was really small I used to play with a baby doll and proclaim that I’d have my own baby one day. Of course, I was four then and probably just wanted something alive to push around in a stroller.” 

She slowly nods, picking at her nails, “And Joel? Did he always know he wanted kids? Did he want Sarah?” 

Sarah. A variable Ellie didn’t know twenty-four hours ago. Maria or Tommy must’ve let that one slip. 

“I don’t know if Joel always wanted kids. He already had Sarah when we met.” You say, “He was a great dad, though.” 

“Did he want her, though?” 

You look at Ellie, trying to discern this line of questioning about Joel’s wants. She was acting weird, had something happened last night after you’d gone to bed? Joel had been sad and quiet last night, but you had just figured he was stuck in an old memory, something common for him. 

You reach across the table, taking Ellie’s hands in your own as you stop her from picking at her hangnails. 

“I don’t know if anyone ever really wants kids, especially in this world.” 

Ellie nods, her hands shifting away from yours. You stop her, though, gently squeezing her soft skin with your fingers to keep her at the table. 

“Kids, though, they give us a chance to be better. Sometimes the world will bring you what you need even if you don’t want it. It meets us where we are and makes us better.”

The scraping of a chair has you and Ellie breaking apart from each other. 

“Damn, when you’d turn into Shakespear?”

Tommy has pulled up a chair to your serene breakfast. He looks criminally good. Dark hair neatly trimmed, facial hair that has just started greying, looks at you as you take in the deep red button down he wears. 

“When you fucked off for your suicide mission.” You scoff 

Tommy’s smile falters, probably not expecting you to address it so soon. Ellie clears her throat. She knows all about you and Tommy; you’d spilled the beans one night after drinking too much of a whiskey Joel had found stashed in the floorboards of an old home a few weeks back. 

“I uh. I’m gonna go see Shimmer again. Is that cool?” Ellie stands up 

You want to grab her and force her to sit her ass back down. 

“Yeah, of course. Harry is workin’ today, let him know I said it’s fine and he’ll probably even let ya’ sit in the stable with her.” Tommy says 

“Sweet.” Ellie grins, walking off towards the exit 

You pick at the tablecloth, thinking about how you should’ve just stayed in bed with Joel. 

“So, uh, can we talk?” Tommy asks hopefully 

You look at him, pretending to really think it over for a second, give him some false hope, let him feel some of the shitty feelings you felt for so many years. 

“No.”

The cold air is refreshing as you scurry down main street. The walk would actually be semi peaceful if it weren’t for the man trailing after you. 

Men. They always ruined everything. Tommy was the worst of them all, even back in Texas you remember the time he spilled his beer on Joel’s new couch while the two of them and your dad were watching the Super Bowl back in 02’. If you close your eyes you can still hear Joel’s enraged voice as he yelled and grabbed a roll of paper towels and cleaner before shoving them into Tommy’s chest. 

“Would you quit, runnin’ from me?” Tommy asks 

“Fuck off, Tommy. Don’t you have shit to do?” 

“Yeah, I do but this is more important.” 

You whirl around to face him, “Annoying the shit outta me is more important?” 

“Look, I just wanna talk. Can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.” 

You push the front door open. Joel must still be asleep. Tommy makes himself comfortable on the couch in the living room you haven’t checked out yet. You perch on the armchair across from him, thinking of how you can escape this. 

Even in Wyoming, he manages to look Texan. Cowboy boots sit on his feet, a big belt buckle on his waist. All he’s missing is a damn hat and you’d think you were back in Austin. 

“Can you make this quick?” You ask wishing he'd just leave

“Your social skills are shit. Didn’t know traveling with Joel also meant becoming him.” Tommy comments

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t make me talk to him if I don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes 

You fidget in your chair, maybe you can telepathically communicate with Joel and get him up, have him distract his brother so you can run off into the woods and bury your head in the snow. 

“Look. I wanted to say I’m sorry. What happened between us, how I left ya’, it was a shitty thing to do.” Tommy says 

“At least he’s self-aware.” You sneer 

He grimaces, you hope he's feeling guilty as he sits on that comfortable-looking couch.

“I’m sure it was hard, but you’re here still. That counts for something.” Tommy says, his lips pressed together in a firm line

“Oh my god. Are you seriously mansplaining how hard my life has been when you weren’t even there for it?” You ask, glaring at him 

“What? No. That’s not what I meant, I just-” 

“Jesus, save it. You don’t belong telling me shit, not when you weren't there.” 

“Darlin’ I-” 

 You point at him, glaring at him accusingly, “Don’t Darlin’ me. You lost those privileges when you fucked off to save the world and left me in Boston to starve and sell myself for cards.” 

“You what?” 

Fuck. You slap your hand over your mouth. Too much info. You sit back, it’s out now, no taking it back. 

“Leave.” You mumble 

“No, I'm not leavin’, repeat what you just said to me.” Tommy grunts, leaning forward.

“I said, get out.” You quietly say, you don’t want to discuss this with anyone, least of all him.  

“And I said no.” Tommy says, “Tell me what happened in Boston. All of it.” 

You run a hand through your hair nervously, your voice rises as anger swirls in your stomach, standing up you move to exit the living room “Get the fuck out, Tommy.” 

Tommy crosses the room quickly, his large frame blocking you from moving further. You take a step back, appalled at the fact that he thought he could keep you here. 

“Talk to me.” He pleads

“Just get out, Tommy.” You groan, “Don’t you think if I wanted to talk to you, I would? I don’t want you fucking pity party so just get the fuck out of my way.” 

Tommy’s eyes stare at you, they look sad, but you can’t bring yourself to care. He steps to the side, his deep voice filling your ears, 

“Alright. I’ll find you before Ellie and I leave for Salt Lake, maybe you’ll wanna talk to me then.” 

The sound of the front door slamming shut rings through the house. You can’t find yourself to care as your legs carry you up the steps. You burst into the master bedroom, expecting to find Joel still asleep. Instead, you find him in the bathroom, staring at his reflection as he trims his beard. 

“You gave Ellie away.” You say, it’s a question that comes out like a statement 

“She ain’t a damn puppy.” Joel says, “It’s better for her like this. Safer. Tommy will get her there, he’s sharper than I am, stronger, knows this area better.” 

“You’re full of shit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean it. You’re full of shit, Joel. Pawning her off on your brother cuz’ you think you’re too old.” You say, grabbing the towel away from him before he can wipe his hands on it, “Do you know what she was asking about this morning?” 

Joel stares at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“She asked about Sarah and if you wanted her.” 

“She has no damn business asking shit like that.” Joel scowls, “Sarah isn’t any of her business.” 

“You don’t get it, Joel.” You roll your eyes

“Actually I do. I get that if I try to get to Salt Lake, she might die. I might die. I’m not as invincible as you fuckin’ think. What you don’t get, what she doesn’t get, is that I’m not her dad. You ain’t her mom, she’s not our kid, she’s cargo, something we were transportin’ for a payout.” Joel stares down at you, a frown etched on his face as he grabs the towel from your hands. 

He brushes past you and into the bedroom. You turn on your heel, watching as he tosses the towel on the bed before beginning to rummage through the clothes in the closet. You watch as his shoulders slump, like he carries the weight of the world on them. 

“Sarah once told me it was easy to make you cry.” You say, “I didn’t believe her until you stayed up with us one night, watched the Titanic with us and started crying when Jack died.” 

“Get to the damn point.” Joel huffs 

“My point is that you’re a human, Joel. Humans age, we cry, we laugh, most of all though, we form emotional attachments.” 

Joel doesn’t look back at you, but you can practically see right through him. Giving Ellie to Tommy with the excuse he’s too old to get her to the Fireflies, a load of bullshit. You walk towards him, hand brushing his back as you get him to face you again. 

“I get it, Ellie, she reminds you of Sarah, of the pain you can’t face.” 

“Stop it.” Joel mumbles, gaze fixed on the wall behind you, his jaw clenched 

“The grief you feel for her, Joel, it’s alright to feel that.” 

Joel sighs and moves to sit down on the bed, and the shirt he’d been holding slips to the ground. You follow him, sitting beside him.

“I know that.” He softly says, “I just…can’t have that gettin’ Ellie killed. Sarah, she…I miss her.” 

Joel’s voice is so quiet, you probably would’ve missed his words if you weren’t right next to him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, a soft hum leaving your lips, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Joel had never been one to talk about Sarah. You knew he thought about her, though, always staring at his broken watch when he did. 

“No…I just wanna sit here, with you if that’s okay?” He asks 

You nod, it’s more than okay. 

You sit beside him in silence, listening to his breaths, feeling his body move as he fidgets with his sleeves. 

“Tommy was here. I heard you two arguin’.” Joel says after a few minutes go by

“He pissed me off.” You say blandly

“Thought I was gonna have to intervene,” Joel admits 

“I don’t think Tommy would ever hurt me.” You honestly say, sure he pissed you off but you didn’t think Tommy would ever raise a hand to you. 

“Tommy wouldn’t hurt ya’. Was talkin’ about you hurtin' him.” Joel grunts 

“How would I hurt Tommy?” You ask 

“Remember that time you threw a can of green beans at his head and gave him a bruise the size of an egg?” Joel asks, “I snt him to the shitty QZ doctor’s to make sure he wasn’t concussed.” 

“He started that.” You remind the older Miller brother 

“He made a joke.” Joel chides 

“He asked me if I was on the rag and then proceeded to tell me I was being a bitch.” You scoff 

“That’s not what he told me.” Joel laughs 

“Yeah well, he’s a pathological liar, that brother of yours.” You hum, taking a deep breath of Joel’s masculine scent 

Joel chuckles, wrapping an arm around you, “Listen, before he leaves with Ellie, I want you to hear him out. Let him apologize and get it out of his system.” 

“Do I have to?” You groan 

“Yes, you have to. When he comes back I can’t have two trying to rip each other in half.” Joel says 

You groan but nod anyway, promising Joel to let Tommy say his piece. 

“You’re sure we can’t take Ellie ourselves?” You ask him again 

“No, we can’t. She’ll be safe with Tommy. Safer than she’d be with us.” Joel says 

From his tone, you can tell it’s final. You accept his decision, wondering how Ellie will fare without you. Joel asks you what you had for breakfast, and when you mention the cup of coffee, he stands back up, declaring he needs to get down to the community hall immediately. 

“You’re an addict.” You chuckle 

“Haven’t had coffee since-” 

“Last night.” You remind him 

“That’s long enough,” Joel says, offering you a hand as he pulls you off the bed 

You laugh when he tugs too hard, and you collide into him, an oomph leaving your lips as he grunts in pain when you step on his sock-clad feet. You’re tempted to ask him to hold your hand as you walk down Main Street side by side. It’d probably be pushing it though. Joel didn’t seem like the PDA type. 

You still didn’t know what he really thought of you, Sure, there’d been that heated moment in the cabin, but nothing really since then. You had no idea if he’d even want a real relationship, now that you were literally across the street from Tommy, that might be too much for both brothers to handle. Besides, it’d probably be awkward being with Joel and him knowing that you’d been with his brother. 

As you walk, you pass the stables, you see Ellie laughing as Shimmer whinneys and takes a carrot from her hands. Guilt swirls in your chest as her laugh fills your ears. You can’t help it, the attachment you feel for her, it’s real, no matter how you try to push it down the way Joe does his. A sigh leaves your lips as you follow Joel into the hall, a singular thought crossing your mind as you enter,

How could you let her go? 

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

@freythecrazyfae @rae-gar-targaryen @keseqna @eniepascal @jakecockley @aphroditesblunt @soberbabes @daisyhams

@h0neylemon @womenlover0 @ghostofseattle @endurexxsurvive

@ashhlsstuff @buzzbuzzlilbee @thatoneperson38747

[angel06babysworld]

Almost a Family

babydaddy!rafe x blackcat!reader

Chapter Three

✦⋆˚｡⋆༶⋆˙⟡♡⟡˙⋆༶⋆｡˚⋆✦

The rain started around six.

Not loud. Just steady—gray and quiet, coating the sidewalks, humming against the windows like background music no one turned off. She had just put Vivi down for the night, still in her clothes from the day, hair damp from a rushed bath, princess Band-Aid on her knee because she’d tripped over her own foot trying to twirl.

The apartment smelled like lavender shampoo and leftover chicken nuggets. Peaceful, for once.

Until someone knocked.

She froze, halfway through wiping crumbs off the counter. Three knocks. Familiar rhythm.

Rafe.

She considered not answering. Just letting him stand there in the rain for once, like she used to.

But then she remembered Vivi had left her favorite blanket in the backseat of his car.

So she opened the door.

He was damp, hair flattened against his forehead, hoodie sticking to his arms. He held the pink fleece blanket in one hand, and a Tupperware container in the other.

“Brought this back,” he said, lifting the blanket slightly.

She nodded, reached for it.

“And made dinner,” he added quickly, holding up the container like a peace offering. “Pasta. Don’t ask what kind.”

She looked at it. Then at him.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Figured,” he said. “You never are after long days.”

“You don’t know my schedule.”

“I used to.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stepped back enough for him to walk in, even though she hadn’t really invited him.

Rafe moved through the space like he still remembered where everything went. Set the container on the counter. Looked toward the hallway. “She asleep?”

“She’s been asleep. You missed her.”

He nodded once. “Had to work late.”

She raised a brow. “Work or something else?”

“Work,” he said, without flinching. “I’ve been doing better, you know.”

“I don’t ask for better. I ask for consistent.”

“I’ve been that, too.”

“Not to me.”

He looked at her then, really looked. Like he wanted to argue but didn’t want to be wrong. And he’d been wrong so many times already.

“I’m trying,” he said instead.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her body. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s still true.”

“You can’t fix the damage by showing up late with pasta.”

“I’m not trying to fix it,” he said, voice low. “I’m trying to be in it. Even if it’s messy.”

She sighed and leaned back against the counter, arms folded, staring past him. She could smell the rain on his hoodie, the faint trace of detergent and cologne. She hated that it still felt like something.

“You don’t get to be soft with me,” she murmured. “Not after all the times you weren’t.”

“I never stopped being soft with you,” he said. “You just stopped trusting it.”

“Because it always had conditions.”

“Not anymore.”

She looked at him then—tired, sharp-eyed, quiet. He wasn’t a boy anymore. But he still looked like one when he was standing in front of her, unsure of what he was allowed to feel.

“Leave the food,” she said. “And the door unlocked when you go.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “You want me to lock it behind me?”

“No,” she said. “Just leave it. I’ll handle it.”

He hesitated, like there was more he wanted to say, but didn’t. Then turned, left the key in the dish by the door, and walked out without another word.

She didn’t move for a long time.

Then walked over. Turned off the lights. And left the door unlocked.

Just in case.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby

[vviolets444rroses]

— bf!rafe gets the silent treatment ✧.*

at the end of every month, the cameron family hosted a small dinner at their house on figure eight. it was just their thing, in consideration of all of their busy schedules… and being rafe’s girlfriend, you were always invited. you loved his family and they loved you. it was a pleasure to be there every time.

except tomorrow's wouldn't be.

you were furious with your boyfriend.

how many times have you told rafe over and over to leave the damned pogues alone? last night, all you wanted was for him to pick up food, so why did he come home with bruised knuckles and a bloody busted lip? and no food? why did he have to be so impulsive when it came to them? it was childish, it was tiring, and you were over it. in response, he's been on silent treatment since then.

the following night— dinner night with the camerons…

as the two of you got ready in your room, he could tell you were still very, very upset with how last night ended. the way you aggressively patted your face with powder spoke volumes.

sliding into your dress, you realize you’re not going to be able to zip the back alone. but you- oh you are stubborn. could you have asked rafe? yes. were you going to? noooo, of course not.

you twist and you turn your arms to reach the back, attempting to do it on your own. you didn't even want to go to dinner at this point. “stupid fucking zipper.” you mutter, catching your boyfriend’s attention as he clicks on his shiny watch. he continues to watch you struggle and curse under your breath.

should i help her? nah, nah... fuck, she'll bite my head off. oh, forget it, i know she'll get more pissed the more she tries it. he thinks to himself.

he calls out your name, just to see if you’d respond. nothing. he tries again. “i- baby, let me help you.”

“no.” you shoot a cold glare, then return to the zipper you couldn’t even get up halfway.

“come on let me do it.” he walks over and gently moves your hands away. you huff as you reluctantly give in and let him zip it. “there…” you hear the zipper make its way to the top and he smiles as he hears you sigh with relief.

“thanks.” you grumble, fixing your hair in the mirror and smoothing out wrinkles in the dress. he stands behind you, his rough hands lingering carefully. "let's talk, yeah?" he watches your eyes flicker up at his, thinking about it fully before deciding.

it was a face he's seen one too many times before. a face that seemed to always let rafe back in. a face that he loved but hated to hurt- but always did.

his sweet, forgiving girl.

you nod.

"i'm sorry, angel. i am, i really am. you never even really let me explain what happened last night and-" "that matters?!" you cut him off. "i just want you to stop coming to me all banged up, because i care about you. i wish you'd just get over yourself and leave shit alone. it's immature." you pull away and go to sit on the edge of the bed. you try to get into your heels but struggle again. he watches you carefully, going over what you said to him in a loop. he kneels before you and slips the heels onto your feet. rafe slowly meets your eyes and sighs, "you're right. i suck, i should grow up. i don't mean to make you worry. i am so sorry. promise i'll try to be better. please angel." gosh, the way he looks at you. a sad, hopeful puppy look. how can you deny him when he gives you that? you stick out your pinky, to which he chuckles at and nods and sticks out his. your pinkies interlock and you both kiss your thumbs with small, growing smiles. "thank you." you mumble when you let go. "that's my girl." "now hurry baby, i heard my dad made that pasta you like for dinner." he helps you up, just to press a fat kiss into your cheek and hug you tight. oh, how he missed your smell and touch. yeah, rafe's an asshole— but he's your asshole. just not to you, duh.

—

—

a/n: i literally finished this shit at 6am. did not even realize it was this time until i looked up at the sky was turning blue again thru my window. ANYWAY.

how'd i do :P !! this is supposed to be s1 rafe, but like is it canon to how he acts? no. idc tho cs this ma babaaaa. i think it's okay considering i haven't written in a while.

[alltimecharlo]

It has been some trying times for me. Work is evil, I miss omega Will, I don’t have any time to read fanfic, and it has rained for the past 4 days. Your work keeps me going atm. Also thinking about omega Will being cuddly with people on the team and maybe (Leno or Gabe) and Mack getting jealous about it like he’s the only one allowed to cuddle. He does not realize he gets special cuddles and always smells like Will because Will scents him. Idk. It’s just been on my mind.

i loved this idea anon!!! hopefully it gives you some strength to push through 🩵 fic under the cut! :)

Mack doesn’t think he’s the jealous type.

He doesn’t. He never has been. He’s always figured, if something’s yours, it’ll come back. If it’s not—well. Better to let it go than waste time worrying.

But apparently that cool, reasonable part of his brain goes absolutely fucking dormant the second Will Smith, omega and menace and apparently also the team’s emotional support blanket, decides to drape himself over someone that isn’t Mack.

They’re in the lounge at the practice facility. Everyone’s wiped from a brutal morning skate. Mack has a protein shake half-finished in one hand, his legs stretched out across a beanbag chair that’s definitely too small for his frame, when he looks up and sees it:

Will, flopped sideways on the couch, practically tangled up in Mario Ferraro.

Like—Will’s head is on Mario’s shoulder. He’s got a hand tucked between their bodies, fingers loosely curled into Mario’s hoodie, and Mario isn’t even flinching. Just chewing trail mix like this is normal. Like this happens all the time.

Which. Maybe it does?

Mack blinks, something uneasy crawling up his throat. He tries to ignore it. Looks back down at his phone. Swipes through a few messages from his mom. Doesn’t reply.

Looks back up.

Will laughs at something Mario says and tugs the guy’s sleeve like he needs more of his attention, like he’s not already climbing him like a cat in a sunbeam. And Mack’s stomach twists.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. Omegas are naturally more tactile, right? And Will’s always been affectionate—nudging Mack’s elbow in the locker room, draping himself across Mack’s back during off-ice warmups, falling asleep half on top of Mack during road trips.

But that’s… that’s just them. Isn’t it?

He glances around.

No one else seems to find this weird. Some of the younger guys are playing a half-hearted game of Mario Kart in the corner. Toff’s snoring in an armchair. Eky’s messing around in his phone.

Mack sits up straighter. Sets down his shake. Crosses the room and drops down on the other side of the couch with what he hopes is a casual, neutral expression.

“Hey,” he says.

Will perks up immediately. “Hey! We were just talking about your reverse hit on that Kings guy this morning.” He grins, crooked and dimpled. “You nearly flattened him. It was beautiful.”

Mack hums, his eyes darting briefly to where Will’s still nestled in against Mario. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Will says, voice warm with praise. Then, with zero hesitation, he wriggles free from Mario’s side and sprawls dramatically across Mack’s lap instead.

Like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Like it’s inevitable.

Mack freezes for a second. Then, carefully, he puts a hand on Will’s waist to steady him.

Will sighs, pleased. “You’re comfier anyway,” he mumbles, cheek pressed to Mack’s thigh.

Mack’s heart does something weird and stuttering. “Right,” he says, trying not to sound wrecked.

Mario gives them both a knowing little look but doesn’t say anything. Just smirks and gets up to grab another snack, leaving Mack alone with the warm, heavy weight of Will across his lap.

Will smells like warm sugar and summer grass. Always does. Mack breathes it in before he can stop himself.

“You good?” Will murmurs, barely looking up.

Mack swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “You always like that with the rest of the team?”

Will hums. “What, cuddly?”

Mack nods.

Will stretches, his hoodie riding up slightly, revealing a thin stripe of skin above his waistband. Mack looks away.

“I mean,” Will says thoughtfully, “not with everyone. Mario’s chill. But like—not all cuddles are the same, you know?”

Mack doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, because suddenly he’s remembering how Will will always lean into him just a bit more. How Will seeks him out on the bench, how Will tends to end up in Mack’s hotel bed when the rooms are doubles. How his hoodies always smell faintly of Will’s omega scent, even when he’s pretty sure Will hasn’t borrowed them.

“Do I smell like you?” Mack asks before he can stop himself.

Will pauses. Then looks up at him with a slow, smug smile. “You’re only just noticing that now?”

Mack groans.

Will laughs, bright and delighted, and curls in closer.

“It’s fine,” he says, pressing his nose against Mack’s hoodie. “I like it when you smell like me. Makes people know you’re mine.”

Mack chokes on air. “I’m what?”

Will grins. “You heard me.”

And then he closes his eyes, like the conversation’s over, and Mack is left staring down at him like the world’s spun sideways.

He thought he was the jealous one.

Turns out Will’s been staking his claim this whole time.

♡

[icarusdescending7]

Simon Riley x Reader | Clueless dad, onions.

Masterlist | Ao3 | Join my Discord!

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Simon!” You’d shouted from down the hall, the sound of your voice being dulled by your daughters screaming. “Simon, hurry up! Eveline’s turning blue!” You’d shouted, a bit desperate as you rush out of the nursery, little girl in your arms, towards the laundry room.

As you stepped in, the wailing got louder, Eveline setting eyes on her stuffy, being drowned in the sink next to the washer. You sighed as you deflated, trying your damned best to get her to calm down. “I know, Evie, just gotta wait a little bit longer, sweetheart.” You cooed, blowing on her face to try and make her breathe while she screamed her head off.

“M’ sorry, lovie, m’ trying not to throw up.” Simon winced, tucking his nose into his armpit as he scrubbed blowout stains from the bear. “Why is it so stinky?” He asked, gagging.

“I wasn’t the one who decided she needed onions in her diet.” You groaned, “How many years in the military, and you can’t handle baby poo?” You asked in turn, nudging him to take Eveline from you while you took over on scrubbing.

The moment she was in her dad’s arms, though, she settled, sniffling as her lip quivered and eyes narrowed in sadness while watching you scrub the last bit of stains from her bear. “Traitor.” You mumbled, a bit upset she would settle down for Simon, but not you.

He let out a sigh as she did, cradling her close and watching you. “Doc said she needs vitamin c…” He answered, “Figured a little onion wouldn’t hurt.” He said as he rubbed his face, wincing as the smell had permeated into his palm.

When you held up a still damp but now clean bear, he sighed, taking the thing. The sooner Eveline could take her nap, the better. Good thing she didn’t actually sleep with the bear, it just sat over her crib. “I’ll go put her down.” He yawned, turning to the hallway.

—

You flopped on the couch, laying back against the stiff pillows and stretching. Shortly after, Simon came and crushed you under him.

“Si… Si, you’re crushing me,” You squeezed out, pushing at his shoulder. “Move please.”

He sighed and sat up, readjust his position so that his head was on your stomach. “Better?”

“Much.”

“I have no clue what I’m doing.” He admitted after a moment, looking at the photo of the three of you on the wall. “I didn’t think fatherhood would be this tough.”

You laughed, fingers finding his hair, threading in to massage at his scalp. “Those classes you take not prepare you for your kid turning blue?” You asked, “I know mine didn’t. They only told me they might hold their breath until they pass out. Crazy stuff kids do, huh?”

“Yeah. They warned me about that, but not screaming until they were blue. Who would’ve thought babies were so loud?” He chuckled, yawning. “Could use a nap.” He mumbled, burying his face into the soft of your stomach, wrapping arms around your waist as if you were his favorite pillow.

“Yeah. Me too.” You yawned too, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over his back, then shifting a pillow under your head. “Discuss dinner later?” You asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mhm.” He grumbled, snores sounding a few seconds later.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Simon is a girl dad whose daughter prefers him more, fight me. I feel like he would come up with the name Eveline. He seems like the kind of guy who likes old fashioned names.

Does this have a point? No. I thought it was cute tho.

[lonelydarknessblog]

ahhh hello! i’m so excited to get into werewolf!skz !!!(i came from daku’s page right after i saw the post) everything looks so amazing already, i can’t wait so see what comes next!

i do have a question tho: how would they take care of you when you are sick, but ignoring it? like, you’re about to pass out from a fever but you’re still making lunch like everything’s fine?

would you mind if i was 🪷 anon?

luv u lots, can’t wait to see what comes next!

Oh lovely lovely 🪷! You have come with the softest ask and I want to hug you for it! Thank you so much for it! I hope this gives you the same warm feeling that your ask gave me.

Also, if you are sick, please please rest the way our boys would want you to!

Honestly, you should have seen it coming. It started as a tickle at the back of your throat. A day later, your head felt like your brain had turned into a lead block. By day 3, you knew the fever was next, but by then, you had told far too many people you were fine and now didn't want to hear 'I told you so'. So, against your better judgement, you decided to go on with life like nothing was wrong.

Bangchan

He smelled it before you began to show signs, his sharp werewolf senses picking up the change in your body, the way it began fighting the infection even before the symptoms showed. But he wanted to respect you, your boundaries. He figured you'd tell him eventually.

You didn't. And he didn't push, but he prepared. So when he found you staring bleary eyed at your laptop, he was ready. He gently shut your device before sitting next to you, not saying a word.

"I'm fine." You grumble even as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and tugs you against him.

"I know." He whispers back, smiling. His other hand runs through your hair, massaging your scalp. You're asleep before you even know it. He carries you to bed, soaks a small towel and presses it to your forehead before tucking you under the blankets.

You wake up hours later, your body having been exhausted after pushing yourself, only to find all the chores completed, a delicate pot of soup simmering, and Chan waiting for you with a gentle smile and a warm hug (and antibiotics, supplements and vitamins).

Minho

You had told him you were tired, and if he could come over for date night instead of going out. That was his first clue that something was wrong. The second was when he stepped into your house to find the aircon set to freezing and you wrapped in three layers of woolens and sweating. He knew you were weird, but not this weird.

Realisation dawned when he slid behind you to check on the jjigae, and felt the heat radiating from your skin.

"You're sick." He stated.

You shook your head. "Nothing severe."

He rolled his eyes, gently manhandled you so that you were in his hold one moment and the plopped on the couch the next.

"The jjigae!" You protested, trying to get back up only for him to press you back down.

"I don't want your germs in my meal. I'll finish cooking. Stay."

You knew better than to argue, and a few minutes later, when he silently pressed a mug of herbal tea in your hands, you didn't have the heart to pretend you were okay. Not when he was looking at you with such unbearable concern and love.

Changbin

At first, Changbin thought the sweat was because you were at the gym, where you were supposed to sweat. But when he saw your arms tremble while holding the 5 kg dumbbell, he knew something was wrong. But you weren't the kind to tell anyone. So he faked a yawn, and you were only too happy to end the session early.

Only when you stepped into the apartment did he let on what he was truly doing; trapping you. His arms went around you in a bridal carry and you were deposited gently in bed. It took five minutes of negotiating to get him to let you shower, on the condition that you would wear the softest pink pajamas after and eat a bowlful of soup.

The exhaustion along with the warm soup left you drowsy, so he pressed a couple of tablets into your hand. Once you downed them, he wrapped you in his arms and you fell asleep with your burning forehead on the cool skin of his chest.

Hyunjin

The first time you cough, Hyunjin pretends like you've personally offended him and his ancestors. He makes you put on a mask and spritzes your hand with sanitiser.

But when it happens the second time, he frowns. His long fingers press against your forehead and he yanks his hand back dramatically, blowing on his fingers as if he touched a flame.

"This fever didn't happen just now." He scolds, rummaging through his things. He pulls out a snap and freeze ice pack and makes you hold it against your head while he shrugs off his hoodie. He bundles you in it, excuses you both from the get together and drives home, making a pit stop at the pharmacy and convenience store. You're obviously not allowed out of the car, commanded to wait for him. And when you reach home and he's given you the necessary medicines and is in bed with you, long limbs wrapped around you like he needs comfort, he whispers, "Don't get hotter, my heart can't take it."

Han

You get a little quiet. You know you're sick and you are ignoring it, going about your day like nothing is wrong. Except Han thinks you are ignoring him. He panics internally, but tries to play it cool. But when you don't react with the usual enthusiasm to the memes he sends, he begins to crash out.

"Baby. What did I do? Tell me how to make it better. You know I love you, right? Whatever it is, I didn't do it intentionally. Please." He's clinging to you, arms wrapped around you, face pressed into your neck. He squeezes you a tad too tight and you sneeze. Once, twice and then a third time.

Han pulls away and squints at you. "Are you sick?"

You nod. He collapses on the floor. "Oh my god, I thought you fell out of love with me!" You giggle and that is all he needs to recover. A while later, you both are wrapped in a tortilla printed blanket, a whole pile of snacks topped by a couple of medicines. And you've been told that Han can't have any of the snacks under the meds unless you have the meds. You get better in a record time of three days, and when people ask how, you and Han grin when he says, "Her love for me cured her."

Felix

Felix senses something is wrong. As a healer, he can pick up on the subtle changes in your body, and he wants to be prepared. So he spends long hours in his apothecary, putting together tinctures and decoctions for different things, nausea, fever, headaches, anything that he can think of.

When he finds you bent over the toilet bowl, he kneels beside you and holds your hair away from your face, rubbing your back. He has a glass of water ready for you and then carries you back to bed, ignoring your half hearted protests about needing to go back to work. He holds your hands and asks you to tell him what you are feeling, so he can bring the right concoction. You are about to scrunch your nose when he assures you that he's added berries to mask the flavour of the herbs.

He serves the concoction in a wine glass, decorates it with mint leaves and a slice of citrus. He wraps you in his arms, puts on your favourite show and nuzzles into your hair when you fall asleep. And when he lays you down on your pillow, he makes sure there is a fresh lavender, vanilla and eucalyptus potpourri under it to ensure you rest well.

Seungmin

He finds you with your head on the table, eyes swollen and a pile of tissues around you. He pokes you with a pen, which he also uses to toss the tissues into a bin. You wake with a groan and see him standing there like a traffic cop, arm pointing to the bedroom. His raised eyebrow makes you swallow whatever you are about say and you trudge to the room.

You remember falling face first into the pillow and passing out, but when you wake up, you're in fluffy pajamas, a hot water bag at your feet while a damp washcloth rests on your forehead. There is a plate of crackers on your night table, along with a flask of tea, a bottle of water and your medicine.

You pad out to the living room, only for him to send you back to bed, having designated it at the only 'germ zone' in the house. When he climbs into bed at night, you mumble something about him falling sick.

"You are germy, but unfortunately, you are my germy. Just don't drool on me, okay?" He says, even as he tucks you under his chin and kisses your head.

Jeongin

When he finds out that not only are you sick, you've also hid it from him, his eyes go wide, lips curve into a pout. He immediately begins gathering items that seem random; a blanket, a cup, the medicine box, a few tea bags, a pillow, bottles of water, an electric kettle and the television remote.

You look confused, but when he tugs you to the couch, some of it begins to make sense. He curls around you before wrapping both of you in the blanket. He is still pouting into your neck even as he rubs little circles into your back.

"You are not moving from here until you are a hundred percent better. And I am not moving from here until I have deemed you a hundred percent better." He grumbles.

"Is that why you have put all the supplies in arm's reach?" You chuckle.

"I said what I said."

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

Thank you so much, 🪷! This was so much fun to write!

[whinelo]

I totally understand that u feel more comfy with fem and gn readers but I had the stupidest dream where you uploaded a male!reader crack fic of the reader going “you got me pregnant” to X as a joke and X low-key thinks he knocked up the reader even tho they’re both guys (i wish I were making this up)

A/N : First time writing a male reader I'm shy 👉👈Dreaming of me Anon? I know, I know I’m irresistible /j This is so crack, but so suggestive I don’t regret writing this at all. ( more X boombayah scenes in the future /j ) don't ask why I'm writing so many suggestive X requests im going through heat /j

CHARACTERS | X ( Bai Xizhuang ) , M!Reader ( You )

INCLUDES | Male Reader, Idk what the request said, very suggestive.

Sipping on your wine— You leaned against the balcony railing, the cold and fresh breeze passing against you- Dim golden light ran into the secluded area you brooded in alone, pressing against your form kissing it soft and warm with the light; chugging on the red liquid like it was water a small bit of it dripped past your lips spilling unto your chin and soon staining the ivory railing.

Steps then zeroed in on your lonely figure, “ Didn’t think you enjoyed being alone, “ A dark silhouette who was too recognizable for you too even try and guess,

“ Didn’t think you’d be attending the gathering at all, “ You quipped back in lightning speed, glaring at the side as his shadow loomed over yours like he purposely wanted to make you feel trapped. He hummed, a soft ahh as he stepped closer to your form, arms slowly wrapping around your waist- as he put his chin atop your head.

“ You smell.. Different. “ He stated sniffing you, nuzzling into you more- feeling his lips tickle and gently pepper the top of your head, huffing- you spun the wine glass, the red liquid swirling around as a small portion of yourself reflected off of it, X being seen more as his white color palette remains blinding. Finally, you responded “ What are you a dog? Get off me, X. “ Hands reaching to the ones X had below your chest.

“ Nope, “ Like always, he’d respond— His voice getting lower, “ Have you been seeing someone else? I’m hurt, sweetheart. “ X teased with a hum, deciding to humor the white haired man-

“ Is the all-mighty X, envious? And so what if I am? “ You weren’t, you weren’t seeing anyone else- the truth is you just switched your shampoo, cologne- and everything else. X’s arms gripped on to your waist tighter, pulling you against his hips as you feel him behind you, shifting and grinding against you.

As if he was purposely baiting you, “ That won’t do.. Mm not at all, I wonder— What should I do with you? “ he lulled out, some words elongating as he spurred you on- Mischievous hands traveling to unbutton your dress shirt, fingers ghosting over your skin- tickling and touching you just where you liked it, unfortunately you were born stubborn.

“ How about leaving me on ghost? “ While you long gave up on trying to stop his prying hands your mouth still ran, giving him a teasing look as you groaned from his touch alone- fingers traveling higher to your chest— “ That’s something you want- I want something else, “ X rolled his eyes, feeling your face become warm as you understood the implications,

“ At this rate you might just get me pregnant- “ Jokingly, you say— No thought no rhyme or reason behind your thoughtless words, and yet, X responded too fast— “ You are? “ His voice rose an octave, something you didn’t hear outside the bedroom- his moving hold stopped, and now you’re left to wonder what the actual fuck is going on in this man’s mind.

“ X- What the fuck we’re both dudes— “

“ We can make things work, "

More of him later on the night !! :3 i miss my rat bastard very much.

[chaeuvy]

⸝⸝ ＃┆𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒! ⎯ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐀

summary: While hanging out near the underpass close to enemy area, Sakura Haruka and his friends Suo and Nirei hear someone running. Suddenly, a girl in a school uniform leaps off a wall above them—landing directly on Haruka after accidentally kneeing him in the face. During her mid-air jump, Haruka unintentionally gets a full view under her skirt, which completely flusters him.

warnings: dirty thoughts, accidental Panty Shot, love at First Sight, awkward & shy Haruka, tsundere Male Lead, comedy, fanservice, fluff with a side of chaos, mild language, swearing, suggestive.

wc: 1.06k words.

THE.. underpass smelled, as always, like smoke and wet concrete.

Sakura Haruka stood, like so many times before, next to Suo, while Nirei walked around close to them, eyeing the graffiti on the wall with a furious glare—it clearly wasn’t from their people. Their gang and area.

“I’m telling you, Suo, if those bastards are p-pissing in OUR territory again, I swear—”

“Calm down, Nirei,” Suo interrupted with his usual calmness. “Let’s just observe first.”

Haruka leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He hated being this close to enemy territory. But what he hated even more was how his heart started racing—not because of a fight, but because of the loud, rapid tap-tap-tap of shoes approaching from a distance.

He frowned. “You guys hear that too?” he asked.

“Sounds like—” Suo began, but it was already there:

A Run.

Fast. Hasty. Panicked.

Someone was fleeing. And a second later—a shadow above them.

“What the—?!” Haruka snapped his head upward—and his brain went into full emergency mode.

You jumped.

In your school uniform, short skirt, white knee-high socks. Hair whipping in the wind. Your face serious. Almost elegant, almost like slow motion—if, IF, Haruka’s gaze hadn’t immediately shot up under your skirt.

White. Pure. Right in his damn line of sight.

“Gah—?!” Haruka let out a choked sound, eyes wide. His brain exploded in dirty thoughts before he even had a chance to stop them.

“White… She’s wearing… Shit, I’m so screwed.”

BAM.

Your knee smashed right into his face. Haruka crashed backwards to the ground—with you landing directly on top of him. Your arm on his chest, your hips dangerously close to his.

A single, shallow breath—and you looked him dead in the eyes.

And Haruka? Was. Completely. Gone.

“A-Ah…” he croaked. His face redder than Suo’s earrings.

“Ugh…! I’m sorry!” You leapt off him. Your voice was firm, but you were panting. “I didn’t have a choice—those damn guys were chasing me—”

“YOU LANDED ON SAKURA, YOU BROKE HIM!” Nirei threw his arms in the air, flailing wildly. “YOU CURSED HIM—LOOK AT HIS FACE!”

“Goddamn… I’m alive…” Haruka mumbled from the ground. “…I think…”

Suo slowly leaned over him, his expression neutral. “You looked up her skirt, didn’t you?”

Haruka groaned and turned away. “Fuck off, Suo.”

You adjusted your uniform. Your gaze was proud, almost defiant, even if your breathing was still uneven.

“I didn’t get lost, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know exactly where I want to go. Those assholes back there don’t.”

“YOU JUMPED OFF A GODDAMN WALL!” Nirei was practically hyperventilating.

“So what? Should I have screamed and waited to be rescued?” You snapped at him. Then turned to Haruka, who was slowly sitting up. “You’re the leader, right?”

“Huh?” Haruka’s eyes widened. He rubbed his aching chin.

“You Look Like it. But also a little bit of ‘clueless softie with punching power’ energy.” You smirked. “I like it.”

Haruka flushed to the tips of his ears. “W-What?! S-Shut the hell up…”

Suo grinned. “She’s got you figured out, Haruka.”

“You shut the hell up too!”

Nirei cried out, “THIS ISN’T REAL. THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING. A GIRL LIKES HIM!”

You knelt briefly next to Haruka, eyes gleaming. “Thanks for catching me. Even if your face made out with my knee.”

“I-It was… it was nothing…I DIDNT EVEN WANTED TO CATCH YOU!” he mumbled, eyes glued to the ground, desperately trying not to think about that image again.

You grinned. “See you around, Sakura Haruka.”

And then you walked off. Just like that. Head high. Confident. Like a goddamn tornado had torn through his life who decided to wear knee socks and flash him.

Suo helped him up. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

“NO!” Haruka yelled, jerking away. “Shut the hell up! I—! I’M NOT—!”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

“SHIT!”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading..

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

[httpssturns]

⋆.˚ desperate ⋆.˚

☼ linked!chris x free!spirited!reader ☼

cw: mentions of alchohol, drunkeness, kind of toxic relationship self deprecation, hurt, blah blah blah wc: 1k au masterlist ○ main masterlist

“fuck.” Chris exclaims, raking his fingers through his hair roughly. He knew Dove was going to some sort of party, he picked up that much when he saw her leave with those wine red lips and skimpy dress. He figured that she was just going out with her girls, like girls do, he hoped that’s what she was doing anyway.

But he hasn't been able to get a hold of her for hours. All of his calls have been going to voicemail, none of his messages read.

At times like this, he wished she wasn't so fucking stuborn. If only she just shared her location, but he doesn't even bother to ask, knowing she’ll probably say something about it being “strange” of him and accusing him of not “trusting” her.

All he could do is pace back and forth nervously, praying for any sign that she was at least okay. It was often like this, Dove left him alone quite frequently—with absolutely know idea where she is—to go off and do whatever she wanted. She had never been the type to sit still, and if she wanted to do something, she would do it without hesitation.

The noise that cut him out of his racing thoughts was the buzz of his phone. Chris fumbled to grab it, borderline desperate just to reach the device, which caused it to slip out of his grasp. Just as he finally got a hold of his phone, it stopped ringing—a voicemail in place of her voice in real time.

Voicmails:

Dove 💕 6.21

Heyy Chrissy.. uhh I think I need you to pick me up..? I can't find my friends anymore and I don't think I have a ride..when I see you I'm gonna kiss you, ‘kay? Hurry please, I'm hungry. I'm at the bar close by.. near the apartments..? I don't know. That's what someone said. End of voicemail

Chris listens to the voicemail, his sighs only growing deeper. How long is she going to do this to herself—to him? He damn near had a panic attack just waiting to here from her once.

As much as Chris is upset at her right now, as much as he just wants to yell at her and tell her he's done, he still gets into the car and drives over to the bar. He knows that place all too well—he practically lives there when she disappears.

When he arrives he immediately spots her, sitting peacefully on the curb next to the bar. And as soon as he gets out of the car, she shoots up, running over to him.

“Chrissy!” Dove exclaims, a wide grin on her lips as she throws her arms around his neck. Her face is so close to his, and he can smell the intense amount of alcohol on her breath.

Chris only scoffs softly, obviously not in the mood for her drunken foolery. “jesus, Dove. How much have you had to drink?” he asks, his nose scrunching at the sour smell.

“uhh—” she starts, before counting up to six on her fingers.

“six? Dove, are you kidding me? No wonder you're acting like this, you're fucking wasted.” Chris scolds, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the car.

As soon as he sees Dove's lips tremble, he lets out a deep sigh. He always manages to forget that she's an emotional drunk, and it doesn't help him stay calm when she always manages to piss him off.

“Dove, please don't cry...I'm sorry for being harsh, you know I'm just worried.” he says softly, cupping her cheek in his palm.

She sniffles softly, letting out a quiet “okay.” although it's obviously not.

Chris leans in and presses his lips to her forehead, giving her a soft kiss before resting his forehead against hers. It doesn't matter, even if she's the one stressing him out—which to be very honest, it mostly is nowadays—he can always find solace in her touch, her presence, and he hates it sometimes.

He ushers her into the car, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes at every word she says. She eventually gets the hint, and chooses to be quiet, though it's a struggle.

They arrive at her apartment, and when Chris looks in her direction, she's asleep. He sighs, and crosses over to her side to open the door and lift her out of the car to her room.

“Chrissy.. are you mad at me?” Dove mumbles quietly, her words slurring as she speaks them.

“A bit, but we can talk about it in the morning, I'm not mad at you now.” Chris replies, gently removing her dress and sliding on one of her baggy t-shirts.

“i'm sorry Chris..” She says, her words cracking softly with regret as tears well in her eyes once more.

“I’m a horrible girlfriend.. I don't even know why you’re still with me. You could be with anyone..”

“Dove, I only want you—i think that's pretty obvious by now.” Chris mutters, a bitterness that's almost undetectable in his tone. Chris has always been drawn to girls he couldn't have, the aspect of it was so alluring—but right now, he just wished she would give herself to him instead of running away.

Dove opens her arms, clearly signaling she wants him to come over there. “Dove, I can't.. I have to go.” Chris defies, he can't stay with her—not right now. He can’t do it again, he can't let her get into his heart and then shatter it. Not another night.

“please chris—please don't leave me all alone..”

Those words, soft, a little broken, claw their way into his heart, and now all he can think about is staying with her once more.

“just this night, I don't need anything else.” Dove whispers, her eyes filled with that desperate need, the expression she's unknowingly used on him several times to get her way.

“just this night..” Chris repeats, and with that—he climbs into bed with her, scooping her in his arms like it doesn't break another piece of his already damaged heart.

She nuzzles into his touch, cups his face, and kisses him softly. All Chris can taste is the alcohol—the drunkeness. She doesn't want him, her senses are just impaired enough that she needs his help.

And as she falls asleep in his arms, just like all of the other nights he wished he could just leave, just get over her, he's can only think that he hates it—he hates how much space she takes up in his heart,

He hates how much he loves her.

୨♡୧ @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers ୨♡୧

☆soph's notes: HELLO!! I'm back..kind of. sorry I low-key disappeared, I lost motivation to write for a little bit 😭 I hope you enjoy this because it's kind of ass.

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