#I can’t tell if it needs more of something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssalo · 3 days ago

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fixation

You have an oral fixation, and Joel is more than happy to keep your mouth busy.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, oral fixation (f!reader), oral (male receiving), finger-sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, established relationship, consensual dynamic, playful possessiveness, casual intimacy, semi-public setting, reader can’t keep her mouth off of Joel’s cock (I get it) 6k.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It had been about 11 months since you and Joel started seeing each other, and every day with him felt like a quiet discovery, learning things about each other that made each moment feel richer.

But there was something you hadn’t quite figured out how to bring up yet—a part of you that you weren’t sure how he’d respond to. Yet, in his presence, the need always seemed to flare up, subtle but persistent, tugging at you like a habit you couldn’t quite ignore.

One evening, you were curled up together on his couch, the night warm and quiet, and you’d been a little fidgety, your mind distracted, wondering if he’d picked up on your subtle hints.

His hand rested easily on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft, absent-minded circles over your jeans, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, breaking the comfortable silence as he glanced over at you, his eyes soft but observant.

“You’ve been a little… antsy tonight.” He tilted his head, watching you carefully with that warm, reassuring smile of his. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as you avoided his gaze, feeling that familiar warmth creeping in, making you both nervous and a little thrilled.

His hand squeezed your thigh just slightly, his fingers gentle, urging you to look up.

“Baby,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and curiosity, “you know you can tell me anything, right? If there’s somethin’ you want, or… need?”

He trailed off, his gaze lingering on your mouth, a knowing smile beginning to form.

You swallowed, feeling the warmth in your face intensify as his words sank in, and finally, you gave him a small nod, glancing up at him shyly.

Your lips parted slightly, but the words felt stuck, tangled up in the way he was looking at you, his gaze warm and inviting.

A quiet laugh slipped past his lips as he brushed a thumb over your bottom lip, his voice dropping to that rough, soft tone that always seemed to send a shiver through you.

“Got a feeling I know what’s been on your mind,” he murmured, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“You got a little fixation, don’t ya?” he whispered, his tone playful but warm, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence.

Your heart raced, and you gave a small, embarrassed nod, your gaze dropping to his chest as you felt the words tumble out in a near whisper.

“I… I just like having… something to keep me busy,” you admitted, your voice soft, almost shy.

Still brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes sparking with that familiar glint.

“Need somethin’ to keep that pretty mouth busy, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft and rough as his thumb lingered, his hand steady on your face.

“Should’ve known,” he said with a grin, his gaze dropping down to your mouth. “Come here.”

His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with a gentle yet confident touch.

As you leaned in, you saw the soft amusement in his eyes, the way his expression held a subtle, reassuring warmth.

You parted your lips, shy but eager, letting his thumb slip between them, and he watched, his gaze intense but filled with that easy confidence that always seemed to make you feel safe with him.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your tongue as he watched, clearly enjoying your reaction.

"Didn’t need to be shy about it… any time you need this, you just come to me, alright?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as his thumb brushed your lower lip, his other hand steady on your waist.

It felt like a quiet promise, a comfortable acceptance that brought you even closer, and you felt your lingering hesitation melting away as he held you there, happy to give you exactly what you’d been craving.

“I don’t mind one bit,” he whispered, his thumb still in your mouth, feeling your soft, tentative sucking as he gently pulled you closer.

Joel’s eyes softened, his voice was low, roughened with curiosity and a touch of arousement as he asked, “Is this what’s been on your mind, babygirl? Just my fingers?”

His question lingered in the air, his tone hinting at more as he kept his gaze steady on yours, letting the words sink in.

He watched the way your cheeks flushed deeper, and he let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as he murmured, “Or was it somethin’ else you were thinkin’ about?”

Your heart raced, his hint unmistakable, but there was something about the warmth in his gaze and the steady grip of his hand that put you completely at ease.

The words felt caught in your throat, but Joel waited, letting his thumb slip out of your mouth, his hand settling under your chin to lift your gaze to meet his. “I can make sure you get exactly what you need… all you have to do is ask.”

He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

His voice softened, a quiet encouragement. “Whatever you want, I’m here, sweet bug.”

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip again, encouraging as he kept his gaze steady, patient, letting you find the words.

Your cheeks warmed, but the way he was looking at you—reassuring, warm, without a hint of judgment—made it easier to open up.

“I just… feel calmer when I’m, you know, sucking on something,” you began, your voice quiet, a little shy.

“Something solid. It’s like… I like the weight of it in my mouth.” You paused, catching your breath, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief as you finally said it out loud. “I don’t know why, but it’s… comforting.”

Joel listened closely, nodding as his thumb traced a gentle line along your jaw. His smile softened, and he murmured, “I figured, pretty one… I could see it.”

He tilted his head, watching you with a look of gentle understanding that helped ease the lingering embarrassment. “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”

You hesitated, giving him a small, shy nod. He chuckled softly, a low, comforting sound that settled any lingering nerves.

“Can’t say I haven’t noticed,” he murmured, his voice low and a little rough, as he looked down at you. “The way you linger, like you can’t let go of my cock once you’ve got your mouth on it… like you’re not quite done with me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and quiet laughs slipped out of the both of you.

He tilted your chin up, his gaze softening, still playful but carrying a deeper warmth. “You like the weight of it, hm?” he asked gently, a thumb tracing the corner of your mouth. “Feels good for you, yeah?”

You gave a small, shy nod, meeting his gaze as your pulse quickened.

He leaned closer, his tone a gentle murmur as he continued, “Darlin’, anytime you need that—anytime you want me, you come to me. I’ll be more than happy to help you calm down.”

With that, he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand still cradling your face, his words sinking in as he held you there, his touch reassuring, making it clear he was there for you, always.

· · ───𖥸

It had become a quiet ritual between you and Joel ever since that night—one where he was more than happy to help you find comfort whenever you needed it.

At first, it was just his fingers. When you’d feel the day’s tension creeping up, he’d let you settle close, slipping his fingers between your lips as he watched you, warm and intent.

The gentle weight, the grounding feel of his hand against your jaw as he let you draw his fingers in, helped you feel calm in a way that words couldn’t quite reach.

Joel noticed it too, the way you’d relax under his touch, how you’d quietly seek him out and never let go until you were completely at ease.

Tonight, though, you found yourself wanting more. It had been a long and hard day, one that left you feeling edgy, and his fingers alone weren’t enough.

As you walked into the living room, you found him on the couch, relaxed with his arm draped across the back, his other hand resting on his thigh.

The sight of him there, so grounded and steady, instantly soothed something in you.

He noticed you right away, his gaze softening as you approached, catching the fidgeting in your hands.

“Hello there, pretty girl,” he greeted, his voice warm, with that touch of curiosity he always had when he knew you needed him. “Need anything?”

You didn’t say anything, instead sinking to your knees in front of him, your gaze falling to his lap before meeting his eyes again.

Joel’s brow lifted slightly, his expression soft but knowing, his lips curling into a small smile as he reached down, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Had a rough day, huh?” he murmured, his tone low, patient as his hand moved to cradle your jaw.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, holding you there gently, his eyes darkening with quiet understanding.

“Is this what you’ve been needing?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble, letting his fingers linger at your lips, already familiar with the comfort it brought you.

But you shook your head slightly, looking up at him with that same shy glance, your gaze flickering down as you hesitated, unsure how to ask for what you really needed.

Joel’s gaze held steady, his thumb brushing over your lip as he read your expression, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Or maybe… you want a little more than that?”

You felt your cheeks flush, but the look in his eyes made the words come easier. You glanced up, giving him a small nod as your hands settled on his knees, silently asking for permission, for more.

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip, and he chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to meet yours. “Is that what you’ve been needing?” he murmured, his voice low, rich with amusement. “My cock… to make you calm?”

The words sent a thrill through you, and he watched as you nodded, barely able to meet his gaze, your cheeks warm. ”Yes... please,“ you whispered quietly.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his hand guiding your chin so you couldn’t look away.

“No need to be shy with me, darlin’,” he continued, his voice a quiet, steady invitation. “If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you. Always.”

Joel leaned back slightly, the soft lighting casting shadows across his strong features, highlighting the rugged lines of his face and the warm, steady gleam in his dark eyes.

He watched you closely, his gaze never faltering as you settled in closer, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths, grounding you with his steady presence.

A subtle smile played at the corner of his mouth as his hand settled over yours, guiding you with a gentle but firm touch.

His fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing you to look up at him as he murmured, “Go ahead, sweetheart… take what you need.”

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling him hardening beneath your touch, his quiet, restrained breaths signaling his anticipation.

His gaze darkened, his eyes holding a mix of warmth and intensity as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as you felt his cock pulse beneath your hand.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his voice deep, a touch of approval in his tone as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing soft, grounding circles there.

His touch, his steady gaze, everything about him filled you with a quiet confidence as he murmured, “You’re doin’ perfect, darlin’… don’t stop.”

His voice, low and calming, was a quiet invitation, full of the easy confidence that you found so comforting.

“Go on, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes holding yours.

You tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing him from the fabric, and your breath hitched as you took him in.

His cock was thick and slightly curved, already hard and flushed with arousal, the tip a deep, needy pink that glistened faintly, inviting. Dark, neatly kept curls surrounded his base, a subtle, masculine scent rising from him, earthy and undeniably him.

His hand moved at the back of your neck, thumb grazing lightly against your skin, steadying you as you leaned in.

His voice, low and gravelly, sent a shiver through you as he murmured, “My sweet girl... Lookin’ so good with your mouth just inches from me. Can see you want it… don’t hold back.”

His words dripped with quiet command, tinged with that deep warmth that made you feel secure yet set your nerves alight with anticipation.

You opened your mouth, your tongue trailing along the underside of his length, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him.

The heat, the weight of his cock, filled you with a heady calm, grounding you in the sensation. Joel’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, his other hand resting on his thigh, fingers curling as he watched you take him inch by inch.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, his voice dark and warm, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you.

“Look at you, takin’ all of me like that, slow and easy. Your lips… they look so damn good wrapped around me, sweet one.” His tone was full of approval, deep and rich, letting you know how much he was enjoying this, letting you settle into the moment.

You began to move your mouth over him, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive head, savoring every ridge and vein.

The faint sheen of your saliva coated him, catching the light, and his cock looked even more inviting, glistening and hard, throbbing slightly in response to your touch.

Joel let out a low, pleased hum, his hand stroking your cheek, encouraging you as you took him deeper.

“God, baby, good job,” he murmured, his tone thick with admiration. “So sweet and focused… like you were made for this.”

His fingers trailed through your hair, gentle but firm, guiding you without any hint of impatience. “Gettin’ every inch, nice and slow… takin’ your time just like I like.”

Your mouth tightened around him, feeling his cock twitch as you took him deeper, letting the weight of him press down on your tongue, grounding you, calming you in a way that nothing else could.

His scent, his warmth, his quiet, filthy praise—everything about this moment soothed you, made you feel safe, yet utterly alive.

“You love how it feels, yeah, baby?” Joel’s voice was a low rasp, and his words spurred you on, made you feel bolder. “The weight of me, how thick I am in that pretty mouth of yours. Tellin’ you, sweetheart… there’s nothin’ I like more than watchin’ you get lost right here.”

You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock, and it made you shiver.

His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the corner of your mouth as he watched you, eyes dark, lips parted in quiet approval.

He tilted his head, studying you with that intense, appreciative gaze that always made you feel seen, adored.

“You keep that mouth workin’ as long as you need, baby,” he murmured, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Long as you want, it’s all yours. Just… fuck, yeah, just like that.”

The praise made you feel a rush of warmth, and you took him deeper, letting him feel your eagerness, your need.

His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you savored the feel of him as his fingers stayed steady at your neck, grounding you with his warmth and strength.

“Feelin’ better already?” he asked, his voice gentle, his tone rough with desire.

His hand traced down your jaw, thumb pressing lightly at your lip, pulling it down so he could see himself disappear into your mouth. “Look at that, darlin’... look at you, takin’ me so well. Such a good girl, lettin’ me calm you down just like this.”

You hummed softly around him, the vibration making his fingers tighten slightly on the back of your neck.

His breathing grew deeper, more ragged, but he kept his touch soft, steady, letting you take the lead, letting you have what you needed. “That’s it, baby… don’t rush, just keep me right there. Slow and steady,” he whispered, his voice low and dark, every word soothing yet making your pulse quicken.

His hand stayed firm as he leaned back slightly, allowing you to settle comfortably as you continued to savor him, tasting, exploring, letting his words and his touch fill you with warmth and calm.

Every brush of his thumb, every murmur of approval, grounded you deeper, letting you lose yourself completely in him, in the simple, comforting weight of him on your tongue, a connection that was yours and his alone.

You relaxed deeper, each slow movement of your mouth deliberate, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his thick, flushed cock filling you, grounding you.

Joel’s hand stayed steady at the back of your neck, fingers pressing just enough to let you know he was there, a solid presence holding you close.

“Babygirl, look at you,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp that made your pulse quicken, each filthy word dripping with pride.

“My perfect little thing, workin’ so hard… always giving it your all. Just needed somethin’ to fill that pretty mouth, didn’t ya?”

His fingers tangled in your hair, a gentle but possessive touch that sent a thrill through you. “That’s what I’m here for, baby. You look so damn good like this, takin’ me slow.”

Your cheeks flushed, feeling yourself sink into his words, every filthy murmur making you crave more, making you want to show him just how much you needed this.

You let your tongue swirl around the head of his cock, tasting him, savoring the salty heat, feeling him twitch under your attention.

He let out a low groan, his other hand moving to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he watched you, dark eyes heavy with desire.

“God, baby, you’re too good at this,” he muttered, voice dipping lower, dripping with arousal.

“So focused, takin’ me so good, like you were made for it. Seein’ those lips stretchin’ around me, so damn eager. Look at you… got me hard as a rock, and you’re takin’ your time, just workin’ every inch.”

His hips shifted, barely a nudge forward, just enough to let you feel his need, but he held back, letting you control the pace.

“Bet you’d stay right here all night if possible,” he chuckled, the sound rich and dirty. “You’d just keep suckin’, hm? Letting that pretty mouth of yours get all messy for me.”

You felt his cock pulse, a heavy, throbbing weight on your tongue as he watched you, his breathing roughening as he sank further into the sensation.

His grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his control slipping as he saw how lost you were, how you kept at it with such gentle, focused attention.

“Love how you’re suckin’ my cock for me, baby… so fuckin’ devoted. Just lettin’ me fill that mouth, takin’ me all the way. It’s like you can’t get enough, huh? Just keepin’ me right there, like you’d never let go.”

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and he bit his lip, feeling his own need taking over as he tried to hold back, not wanting to pull you from the calm, submissive state you’d found.

But with each slow, wet stroke of your mouth, each deliberate pull of your lips around him, he felt himself teetering closer to the edge, and a quiet, breathless laugh escaped him as he leaned down, his hand cradling your face.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with both regret and need, “but you’re too damn good… I can’t hold back any longer. I’m gonna cum.”

His thumb pressed against your cheek, feeling the fullness of his cock in your mouth as he whispered, “Hate to take this from you, but I want you to swallow every drop, every bit of me… you’ve earned it, good job.”

He let out a deep, guttural groan as he came, his cock twitching in slow, heavy pulses against your tongue, spilling into your mouth as he held you close, his grip tightening just enough to anchor you, keep you steady as he filled you.

His other hand brushed over your cheek, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, watching with dark, hooded eyes as you swallowed everything he gave, his voice dropping to a low, possessive murmur.

“God, look at you, darlin’… swallowin’ every fuckin’ drop like the good girl you are. So perfect, so fuckin’ perfect. Just lettin’ me use that sweet mouth, keepin’ me close.” His thumb lingered at your lips, his voice warm, affectionate as he whispered, “You’re exactly where you belong, sweetheart… right here, with me.”

He stayed there, holding you, his voice softening as he praised you, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your cheek, grounding you as you both came down, feeling safe, cherished, and completely at peace in the warmth of his touch.

As you eased back, Joel’s hand remained at the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gentle, soothing circles, and he looked down, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took in the calm, relaxed look on your face.

You were utterly at peace, your eyes heavy-lidded, a faint, satisfied smile on your lips as you looked up at him, the tension you’d been carrying all day melting away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rich with warmth and pride, his hand steady as he helped you rise.

“My perfect girl, you did so well,” he whispered, pulling you up to settle you against his chest, cradling you close as his hands drifted to rub soft circles on your back.

He could feel how completely at ease you were, the deep calm radiating off you as you leaned into him, feeling safe, cherished, like you’d found exactly what you needed.

You let out a quiet, sleepy murmur, snuggling into his warmth, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of gratitude, the words barely audible as you let yourself sink into his embrace.

Joel’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he held you, one hand moving up to brush through your hair, his fingers gentle, comforting.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“So calm now… my sweet girl, lettin’ herself relax.” He could see the sleepiness in your eyes, the way your breathing had slowed, your body completely soft in his arms.

He tucked you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand never stopping its gentle, grounding strokes along your back.

“You can rest now, baby,” he whispered, his tone full of care as he continued to hold you, letting you know he was right there. “You’re safe with me… just close those eyes. I’ve got you.”

You melted further against him, your body fully relaxed, your breathing deep and even, your face tucked against his neck, perfectly content and utterly calm in his embrace.

He felt you drift closer to sleep, your soft breaths warm against his skin, and he tightened his hold, letting you find that final bit of peace, held close and cherished in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

· · ───𖥸

Over time, it became second nature, a quiet ritual between you and Joel.

The comfort you found in each other had only deepened, making those moments when you had him in your mouth feel easy, almost instinctual.

There were mornings when he'd sit on the edge of the bed, tousled hair and a sleepy smirk, and you’d settle between his thighs, taking him slowly as the sun crept through the blinds, warming the room as he murmured sleepy praise, his hand steady in your hair.

Or lazy afternoons, when you'd both wind down on the couch, and he'd reach over, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, just to let you know he was there, that he understood what you needed.

Sometimes, even in the middle of the night, he'd feel you shift closer, your warm breath against his skin, and he’d know exactly what you needed without a single word exchanged.

He’d guide you under the sheets, his voice a low, sleepy rumble as he whispered, “Go on, darlin’, take what you need,” his tone gentle, reassuring as he let you lose yourself, knowing how much it helped you relax, how much you needed him in those quiet hours.

And then, there were moments just like now—calm and casual, like you were simply sharing another part of your day together.

Joel stood at the stove, his back turned slightly as he tended to a simmering pan, cooking up something simple for dinner before a friend came over.

His shoulders were broad and relaxed, his stance easy, completely at home in his space.

You were on your knees - his hard cock in your mouth, your lips wrapped around him, taking him slowly, almost like an afterthought, as if this were as natural as holding his hand or sharing a quiet drink together.

The kitchen filled with familiar sounds—the soft sizzle of the pan, the clink of the spatula, Joel’s steady breaths mingling with yours.

His free hand occasionally drifted to your hair, brushing over it with gentle fingers, not guiding but simply acknowledging you there.

Every now and then, his hand would graze over your cheek, tracing a soft line along your jaw as he continued to stir the food, keeping his focus on both you and the task in front of him with that calm confidence that made you feel secure.

He glanced down at you with a smirk, his eyes warm with that casual affection, the amusement clear on his face as he took in the sight of you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

“Can’t keep away, even while I’m tryin’ to get dinner on the stove.” He chuckled, running a thumb along your jawline, his tone casual and amused. “But hell, can’t say I mind one bit.”

His hand returned to the pan, stirring with a practiced ease, completely unfazed as you continued to take him deeper, your lips sliding over his length with a slow, familiar rhythm that felt grounding, comforting.

You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, but his breath remained steady, his voice calm as he casually carried on.

He kept stirring the pan, flipping the food, but you noticed how his fingers tightened on the spatula, his calm demeanor wavering ever so slightly as his eyes lingered on you a moment longer.

His hand drifted back to your hair, gripping a little firmer this time, letting his thumb brush over your cheek as he took in the sight of you, your cheeks hollowing as you pulled him in deeper.

“That’s it… good girl,” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, rougher.

“Always so eager to get me in that pretty mouth of yours, no matter what we’re doin’. you just can’t get enough.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in admiration as he went back to the stove, still casual, as if it were perfectly natural for you to be on your knees, sucking him off while he cooked.

You felt your own excitement building, a warmth settling over you as his words sank in, his easy praise making you feel cherished and bold.

As Joel continued cooking, your pace grew a little faster, your mouth working over him with that same familiar, comforting rhythm, but now you could feel his cock twitching, thick and heavy against your tongue.

He glanced down with a small smirk, clearly enjoying the way you seemed to lose yourself, the casual intimacy of it making him feel grounded, completely at ease.

Just then, the doorbell rang, echoing through the quiet kitchen.

Joel paused, casting a quick glance at the door before looking down at you with that calm, teasing expression, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“Well, guess Paul’s here,” he murmured, his voice low and amused, as if the idea of his friend arriving right now only added to his pleasure. “Mind hurryin’ it up, darlin’?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, feeling a surge of need as his gaze held steady on yours.

The doorbell rang again, and you gripped his thighs tighter, pressing in, whispering in a low, urgent tone, “Please, baby… fuck my mouth. I need you to cum. right now.”

A low groan escaped him, his amusement giving way to a darker need as he held your head in place, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nice, baby,” he murmured, his tone dropping, filled with pride and pleasure as he looked down at you. “Guess I can’t keep you waiting, can I?”

With a steady hand, he guided your head, his hips beginning to rock gently, then harder, each slow thrust filling your mouth with a deep, satisfying pressure that made you feel grounded, completely in tune with him.

His hips rocked forward, his hand guiding your head to take him as deep as possible, his voice breaking into low, filthy groans.

“That’s it… just like that. God, you’re a perfect little thing… lettin’ me use you, lettin’ me fill that pretty mouth like you’re starvin’ for it.”

His breaths grew more ragged, his cock pulsing with each movement as he picked up the pace, letting himself go, his fingers digging into your hair as he held you steady.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. “You want my cum, don’t you, sweetheart? Just need to feel me fillin’ that pretty mouth of yours.”

You hummed in response, the vibration making him gasp, his cock throbbing. Joel’s breaths grew heavy, his control slipping, and you could feel him getting closer, his words now a strained murmur.

“Almost there, sweetheart… just a bit more. Need you to swallow every bit for me.”

With one final thrust, he let go, his cock pulsing as he spilled into your mouth, warm and thick, his groans deep and satisfied as he watched you take everything he gave.

His thumb brushed over your jaw as you swallowed, his gaze filled with a mix of pride and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough as he held you close.

Just as you both caught your breath, the doorbell rang again. Joel smirked, helping you up and wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb before pulling you into a quick, reassuring kiss.

He glanced at the door, chuckling. “Better let Paul in. Don’t want him thinkin’ we forgot about him.”

He straightened up, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he went back to the stove, leaving you flushed, fulfilled, and feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be.

You straightened up, catching your reflection in the hallway mirror and smoothing your hair, feeling both satisfied and a little flushed.

You opened the door to see Paul standing there

“Hey, Paul,” you greeted, trying to keep your tone light and casual, though you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into you from behind, clearly amused.

Paul stepped inside, glancing between the two of you with a smile. “Took you both long enough—I almost left again.”

Joel strolled over, leaning casually with that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Well,” he drawled, his eyes glinting as they met yours, “guess I finished up just in time.”

Your cheeks flushed as Joel’s smirk lingered, a private joke hanging thick in the air, while Paul remained blissfully oblivious.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I really liked this…. a bit too much. 🫎

Just a little reminder that your comments, and reposts with reactions, mean the world to me. They’re the only “thank you” I get for these stories, and truly the reason I stay motivated to keep writing and sharing.

Knowing you’re enjoying the journey and hearing your thoughts keeps this all alive.

So please, keep those comments and reposts coming—they’re what make it all worth it. Thank you so much for being here and for all your support!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️😭😭😭‼️‼️

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urarakasgff · 3 days ago

Text

come here, babydoll.

Synopsis: Vi x f! Reader. Based on the song Babydoll by Ari. Even though you were just friends, her drunken words definitely made it seem like there were some hidden feelings underneath her intense demeanor. Not proofread.

It was late out at night, the wind crashing against the walls of your apartment, the moon brightly illuminated the night. You stayed in your warm sheets, tossing and turning as the night went by. That was until you heard a knock at your door.

You slowly opened your eyes, it was around 4am, you knew it had to be Vi if anyone was coming to your place this late. You shuffled out of your bed, trying to stabilize yourself on your feet, then making your way to the front door with half opened eyes.

As you slowly opened the door, Vi stumbled her way in, making eye contact with you, but you were both slightly out of it, for two entirely different reasons.

“Vi..? What’s going on, why are you here so late?” You said gently, grabbing onto her arm and leading her over to your bed for her to get a place to just sit. The mix of alcohol, her cologne and sweat lingered.

Her being drunk wasn’t something that was unusual. She was a pit fighter after all, and this girl would constantly get drunk and get into the ring without a second thought, no care in the world for her own safety. But, for her to make an appearance this late at your place? That was unusual.

“Nothing cupcake. Just, needed you around.” She said, slightly slurring her words, the alcohol clearly had already taken over. She slowly sat down on your bed, slightly manspreading as she leaned her head into her arms, probably from how exhausted she was.

You stood there, just looking at her with concern. She was one of your closest friends, and to say you felt nothing but just friendly emotions towards her would be a lie. But feelings aside, and whatever they were, You were still beyond worried about her. These constant fights and drunken states could not be good for her, whatsoever.

As she slowly looked up at you to make eye contact, she opened her arms a bit.

“Come here, babydoll.” She said in a lower tone, quite literally almost as if she was demanding for you to come over. A hint of affection and want in her eyes.

You looked at her, and luckily the mostly dimly lit room did an amazing job at hiding the blush that crept onto your face. While it wasn't unusual for you two to be close and even flirty sometimes, she was being a lot more blunt, direct even.

You walked over to her and grabbed the hand that was slightly reaching out for you, and she pulled you into her lap. “Darling, I’m falling, fucked up over you.” Her voice was a bit wavering, a hint of need and desperation. But, it wasn’t what you’d expect.

Vi isn’t one to just open up about her feelings, much less about romantic ones. She wasn’t sober, at all, her mouth was running on autopilot, leaving her a bit vulnerable and honest.

“Vi, you- you aren’t sober right now. And as much as I'd just love to-” You said gently, trying to almost avoid the conversion. She interrupted you by holding onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

She called out your name, almost as if she was pleading for you to try and understand her. “I don’t care, I mean it Cupcake. Fuck, I didn’t want to wait this long to tell you, but I can’t stand it. The thought of me losing you, all because I couldn't say it? Because I couldn't tell you?” She cupped your face, trying to keep the eye contact steady, still keeping your fingers interlaced with hers.

“And fuck me if im wrong, but you feel it too don’t you babydoll?” She said, smirking a bit, knowing she was right.

writer’s note: TBH didn't know how to end this (could you tell) and I had to go study for an exam, so enjoy this little drabble <3

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 days ago

Text

REDAMANCY. 18+

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader word count. 3915 summary. you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove. warnings. 18+ only!! reader has a moment of inadequacy at the beginning, logan being attentive<3 quick description of thigh riding but it's not proper, titty kissing, fingering, cum eating? (licks his fingers) pinv sex. angst start, fluff middle, smut ending. mdni a/n. #needthat

Feelings of inadequacy seem to follow you like a stray dog. The constant, repetitive thought that what you do or say or think or feel may never be enough. But it was silly really, to be afraid of the contents of your own mind, especially when you had no reason to feel that way.

You thought these feelings were controlled, contained even. But as you anxiously twist your wedding ring upon your left finger, you can’t help but slip into that prior mindset you believed to be packed away. You beside the stove, mindlessly watching the simmering pot of tonight's dinner, staring at the vegetables bubble around in the sauce.

It was Logan’s favourite, and it was a token of your appreciation for yet another grand gesture of his love towards you – the thanks a slither of what he does for you on the daily. But as you watch over the chicken pie filling in the saucepan, you can’t help but notice something missing, something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t.

And when you blink from your fixed, hazed stare, you see exactly what you need on the countertop. The chopped up pieces of bacon on the board —his favourite part— sitting there like it’s mocking you, telling you that you’re terrible for forgetting it. And it’s not like you can add it now, it would be horrible and ruin it completely.

All you can do now is move on, move past it. Though now it feels like you can do anything but. The bacon a reminder of your apparent failures, inadequacies. It was silly to be caught up on missing meat, but it wasn’t just about that – it was like it was even more proof that you were out of your depth with Logan. That forgetting the bacon somehow made you a horrible, horrible person.

You stare at the board for a moment, trying so desperately hard not to let it get to you and then you see Logan walk past the window – a couple fresh chopped logs of wood under one arm, an axe and a bunch of wildflowers in the hand of his other. And somehow the sight made you feel nothing short of awful. His thought and care once again overshadowing your attempts.

You quickly wipe under your eyes, an act of precaution to make sure nothing had seeped from you while you beat yourself up over something so tiny. You follow the sound of the front door opening, the scuffling of his boots following shortly after as he places down the pieces of timber.

“Smells fuckin’ good,” he compliments, the warm, homely smell hitting at his nose immediately.

He walks over to you, right, flower-held hand tucked from your view as he moves to stand behind, free arm reaching for your waist the second he’s close enough.

“I got’ya somethin’,” he whispers behind you, punctuating his sentence with a kiss under your ear – his neck peering round and over your shoulder.

You turn into him, your back against the edge of the counter to see what you already knew to be in his hand. He pulls the flowers from behind his back, the stems cut neatly with the help of his adamantium tools. They’re beautiful, all hand picked from the surrounding forest around the cabin.

He guides them to your hand, noticing your unusual hesitation as you stare at the bouquet. He, too, pauses, looking over your face to understand your silence. Did you hate them? You never usually hate them.

“Do you…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “Hate them?”

“No,” you say, word soft as you shake your head, the motion just as gentle as your voice.

Logan cocks his head slightly, angling to meet your eyes but you only divert them again, turning away from his gaze as you reach for the bunch of flowers. Only now they’re out of your grasp, his hand to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks, the withdrawal of the gift an attempt to make you meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” you lie with a nod, a small, faint, smile accompanying the fib.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

You look over him quickly, expression bashful as you shrug. He hates when you lie to him, especially about these things. It was only a white lie really, just a small, teeny tiny mistruth to spare yourself from embarrassment. But your silence doesn’t last long.

“I messed up dinner,” you admit, the confession pried from you by his prolonged, patient silence. Your words are quiet as you avoid his eyes, instead staring down to his chest.

He glances past you and into the saucepan, seeing no such fault. He faintly shakes his head, features quizzical as he tries to understand.

“It looks good to me,” he says, with a slight, but genuine shrug – unable to see what you see.

You close your eyes with a sigh, the noise light and airy as your head drops, gaze lowering.

“I forgot the bacon.”

His head cocks once again, the motion like he’s growing more and more confused.

“Yeah?” he prompts, trying to get you to say more.

But that’s all there is to say, you forgot the bacon – that’s it. It wasn’t like it was a pause or the beginning of some speech.

“It’s your favourite part,” you reply, defeat evident in your voice.

“Uh-uh?” he guides you through your confession, still unsure of what the issue is. He knew there was more, he just had to ease it out of you.

“It’s your favourite part,” you repeat, momentarily glancing up to meet his eyes. “It’s not your favourite meal if I forget your favourite part,” you cut yourself short as your voice begins to waver, a bubble forming in your the back of your throat.

He holds onto your short eye contact, following your gaze when your head goes to turn. “Come on now, talk to me,” he offers his comfort, speaking like it was a plea.

“I feel like I can never keep up.”

“Keep up with what?” he questions, desperate to keep you talking.

“With you,” you pause and place your hand over your opposite upper arm, the act a brief moment of self soothing. You exhale softly before continuing. “You do all these nice things for me— see? Look,” you point to the flowers in his hand. “Right there. You thought of me and you got them and they’re beautiful. Why can’t I do that?”

Logan opens his mouth to speak, though you’re keen to continue. The bandaid free and invoking all your feelings to come out at once.

“I make you desserts, I make a mess. I buy you something, I buy the wrong thing. I make your favourite dinner, I ruin your favourite dinner,” you pause, your vision growing blurry. “Sometimes,” you pause once more, wiping your eyes. “Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much I love you. Like, I can never seem to prove it and I don’t—” you cut yourself off, stopping yourself from what you were about to say. You didn’t want to make a further mess of things.

“You don’t, what?” he asks, his attention undivided as he listens to you. “You don’t, what?” he repeats, eyes boring into yours as he urges a response from you.

“Want you to feel like you made a mistake,” you confess, voice quiet like you were ashamed for thinking such thing.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” he questions, flipping your moment of insecurity back on you. Though his words hold no malice, no intention of hurt – just simply speaking like he was trying to figure you out.

Your silence speaks louder than any words could. Your eyes quickly flickering over his face like you were anticipating what he may say in response. It could go one of two ways: irritated and angry or soft and hurt.

“I haven’t,” he says, voice as firm as his eyes. “I know I haven’t,” he repeats, trying to engrain it into you.

All you can offer Logan is a faint, flattered smile, fragments of disbelief just as evident within you as before. One thing about your husband you knew to be forever true, is his earnest nature. So you knew he wasn’t telling you what you wanted to hear only to spare himself.

Logan places the flowers on the counter to the right of you, laying the bunch neatly at your side. He keeps his attention on you, eyes fixed on yours as if he’s trying to prove his sincerity – his honesty.

His head drops slightly as he rests his lips against your forehead. “Do you believe me?” he asks gently against your skin, punctuating his question with a kiss to where he just spoke.

You wrap your arms around him as you tuck your face into his neck, hands connecting in the middle of his back. “Yeah,” you reply, word muffling into him.

It was a lie, a partial lie at that. You knew in your heart —deep, deep in there— that it was true, and that you believed it, but right now? You just couldn’t get it into your head. So you lied, not wanting to run around in circles with repetitive asks all evening.

But this is Logan, he knows your tells and when you’re lying. But he doesn’t poke any further, instead pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling away, clearing his throat briefly.

“Why don’t you go lay in the tub,” he starts, usual gruff voice now soft, speaking like he’s trying to soothe you. “I’ll finish that off,” he gestures with his eyes, nodding to the stove top on the other side of you.

You turn to look at the ‘mess’ beside you and nod, accepting his help with no more deflecting or avoiding. And as you step aside, you stroke over his back where your hands laid just moments before, the act another one of your silent thanks.

His left, ringed hand brushes your left, ringed hand as you move from your placement in front of him, your fingers loosely entwining for a short, brief second before passing.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Standing in front of the dresser in your shared bedroom, you change from your towel and into something a little more comfortable – opting for a robe and slippers. You give yourself a quick glance over as you pass the mirror on your way out the room, though you don’t take too much notice, instead flicking off the light switch as you set off to the living room.

The bath helped. It helped massively, actually.

Your slippers scuffle along the hallway of your cabin, the floorboards worn and creaky by it’s old age. Lingering in the doorframe, you look over at Logan on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the lit fireplace ahead – looking as though he’s lost in thought.

“Hi,” you start, capturing his attention.

His eyes flick up to you, a faint —his usual— smile welcoming you back. He clears his throat like he’s going to speak but instead he taps the empty seat on the couch beside him.

You look around the open space before your eyes land on the orange, warm light shining out of the oven and onto the tiles. The pie you started to make now sitting on the centre shelf. The rest of your messes cleaned and tucked away, all evidence hidden. And there he sits, asking for no recognition – no praise or approval for cleaning up after you. He’s just there, patiently awaiting you.

“How long’s it been in?” you ask, gesturing to the oven. “The pie,” you add, turning to look at him with a smile.

“Three minutes,” he reciprocates your warmth as he nods you over to him.

“Did you let the pastry warm up?”

He nods.

“And the—”

“Taken care of,” he interrupts, slipping his hand into yours. He guides you to stand between his legs, eyes honed in on you above. Like he’s anticipating you, he answers the question you’re about to ask – once again proving just how well he knows you.

“Cooked it in ‘nother pan then added it on top,” he replies, speaking casually.

You stifle a laugh as you shake your head – it was really a simple fix.

With his gaze still focused on you, he begins playing with your left hand, his thumb mindlessly grazing your ring – the fiddling an absentminded act. As if he’s reminding him and yourself of your marital bond.

“Thank you.”

He hums, the sound far more gentle than his typical rough ones. It’s like he’s acknowledging your appreciation without taking the credit for it.

You extend your free hand, reaching for the side of his face, touch light as you brush over his cheek. Your thumb traces under his eye, soothing over the tired skin as you take a step closer – silently instructing him to lean against the back.

Logan does as wordlessly asked, his hips rolling underneath himself as he repositions, sitting in a manspread for you. He follows your movements as you sit on his lap, straddling one of his beefy thighs, your arms briefly hooking around his neck as you do so. He looks up at you from your very, very slight height advantage, eyes keen as he gazes into yours – staring like he’s trying to read you. You seem far lighter, far happier than the last time he saw you.

One hand rests on his cheek, the other grazing through the shorts of his dark hair – your hold gentle and dear as you press a string of soft, slow kisses across the stubble of his beard. One by one you get closer to his mouth, reaching his lips by the fourth.

His hands move up you from behind, skimming across the cheeks of your ass until they’re resting on your hips, the presence of his hold noticeable through the robes' thin fabric. He begins a pawing – irregular, needy squeezes into you like he’s silently communicating his thoughts and wants, scoping out whether you feel the same.

“How much time is left on the pie?” you quietly ask, speaking against his lips. Your question also an attempt to scope him out.

His grasp around you tightens, the slight force of his hold making your grind against his thigh. “Enough,” he prompts, murmuring into your mouth – lips not yet daring to connect.

He grinds you over your thigh, the motion slow and leisured as he holds you over him, working you up little by little. Gentle exasperated breaths from you caught between your closeness.

Upon hearing those sounds he loves ever so much, he pulls you into him, wrapping you into a brief, momentary hug before turning and laying you on the empty space of sofa beside him. He adjusts, situating above you but to your side, weight anchored beside you.

You look up at him sweetly, eyes flickering over his face in the same way he does you – specks of admiration and lust forming within each of your glances. You adjust under him, the act like you were trying to redirect him, guide him to above rather than to your side. Wanting to feel him graze up against you.

Logan brings his free hand to the side of your face, touch heavy and desperate as he thumbs over your cheek, holding you there as he presses a couple lengthy kisses to your lips – the contact anything but brisk. And with that hand around the swell of your cheek, he’s grazing it down your neck, trailing towards your chest.

He parts the loose, flimsy material of the robe, parting the fabric so he can slip a hand inside. Cupping one of your bare tits, he pulls it out from underneath – the full weight of your breast held within his warm, large hand. All of it on display for him to marvel at from above.

Angling his neck, he reaches for your tit, tongue swiping over the nipple just moments before his lips encompass it. The warmth of his mouth making your stomach tingle and fingers tighten in his hair, a jolt-like roll of your hips accompanying your desperate micro actions.

He holds himself there for a prolonged moment, keeping his lips to your nipple as his fingers begin a very slight pawing around the lower swell of it. The motion like he’s rolling you within his hold. A streak of residual wet being left behind as he pulls his head up from your chest.

You look down to him between your tits, his face just mere inches from yours. One of your breasts still within Logan’s manly hold, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your priorly sucked nipple — the act a soothing caress.

“Where’d you want me?” he asks, voice quiet between your close distance. “What’d you want?” he adds, just as softly as before, speaking like his one goal is to provide service. Service to you.

You make a faint, disgruntled whine upon his questioning, your mind whizzing with thoughts of him, ideas of him. The feel of his cock growing hard against your thigh only making your head race faster.

He shifts above you, lips reaching for yours as his hand around your tit travels down and between your thighs. The warmth of his touch is nothing like your warmth. He slips behind the opening of your robe, his fingers itching to your bare cunt ever so slowly, moving like he’s trying to help you decide. Though he’s doing the complete opposite — making it all the more challenging to answer with your mind whirring like it is.

He lines the crease of your cunt with the pad of his finger, brushing up and down with the lightest, faintest of touch — his lips resting against yours so he can swallow your jittery breaths. The strokes from him are almost mindless, brushing over you like he’s unaware of the effects he has on you. Still has on you after all this time.

“This?” he whispers against your mouth while his finger trails up the slit of your pussy, grazing over your folds.

You nod against him in response, the motion gentle and careful.

Logan teases over your cunt’s lips, collecting the slight build up of slick to smear and trace over you — spreading your arousal with his light touch. Working you up the and more. He pulls away to look over you, wanting to watch your face.

And when your eyes find his, that’s when he slips his middle finger into you. Holding onto your gaze as he presses inside with the utmost of ease.

It was what you needed, not what you wanted. And he could tell — the knitting of your brows and slightly unsatisfied crumple of your nose telling him before you even got a chance. And as you open your mouth to speak, mere milliseconds away from asking him to add another, he’s already lining his ring finger up with you, slipping it inside to accompany his middle.

The steady rocking of him further blurs any sense of coherency in your mind, the slow massage-like fucking of his fingers against your g-spot loosening you up nicely for him.

Your hand in his hair moves to the side of his face, grip desperate as you hold him there, muffling incoherent words of thanks — each murmur being overshadowed by those blissed noises he can never seem to get enough of. And while you keep his face to yours, your other hand is reaching for his arm between your thighs, fingers struggling to enwrap the meat of his upper wrist.

The pumping of his fingers into you is steady, each graze of him from the inside coming from a place of leisure, like the concept of haste is the furthest thing in his mind.

Though, he’s only human and there’s only so much he can take. Especially when you’re squirming under him like you are. The clicking of his fingers in your pussy only making it harder on him.

So, he slowly retracts from the wet warmth of your cunt, strings of your cum remaining connected to him, until they don’t. And as he pulls himself away from you, he licks over his knuckles, lapping over the milky white band you left around him.

Logan sits on his heels between your thighs as he unbuckles his jeans, his dry hand tasked with the job of unbuttoning. He gives the band a hasty tug down, the act nothing short of pure desperation.

He digs down the front to grab a hold on himself, grasp tight around his dick as he pulls it out over the top of his jeans. Cock hard and heavy within his hold. And as he gives himself a few preparatory strokes as he leans back over you in his prior hovered position — weight anchored on his free arm beside your head.

Guiding his cock to you between the opening of your robe, he pushes his head through your lips, collecting your arousal like it’s his personal, endless supply of lube. And only when he deems himself ready, he’s lining up with you, the tip of his dick pressing up against you for a brief moment before he’s easing in. Slowly but surely feeding himself into your cunt.

Upon the entry of his thick, heavy cock, your hands fly up to his face, holding either cheek to keep him close, lips skimming like they did just minutes before. Breath being caught in your throat, the air almost trapped as you feel him sink further and further inside, filling you entirely with himself.

He stills, keeping the whole, full length of his cock plugged inside, the motion of his hips non-existent as he gives you a quick second to get reacquainted with his size. He lowers his head, pressing his forehead against yours while he catches his own breath, the suction-like feel from your cunt having the same effect on him as he does you.

You squirm underneath him and your knees cling to his sides, keeping him glued to you.

“Move,” you whisper, the word like that of pure need. “Come on.”

His lips straighten against yours, a subtle smile forming. “Thought’ya liked the buildup,” he speaks quietly.

The hand that was around his dick, feeding into you, now rests on your face — carefully manhandling you and keeping you put. Logan nips at your lips quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to them as he rolls his hips into you, bumping his cock up.

“That’s what you wanted?” he teases, pressing a kiss just under your chin, making you tilt your head back. Hand moving with the motion of him, palm grazing to rest at the base of your throat. “It is, ain’t it?” he continues with his teasing, muttering between kisses along your jaw. “Hm?”

You hum, the noise sounding like a whine amongst your other blissed sounds. The concept of formulating coherent speech seeming to be far too difficult with the way he feels inside of you. All you can do is squeeze your eyes closed and nod, unable to do anything more than that – just lay beneath him, taking his tender, loving fucking.

Logan’s one true goal: to replace all prior feelings of pain with pleasure, wanting to make you forget about your upset from before. And with the way his dick is winding into you, he’s getting closer to that goal.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

including the moodboard bc she’s cute

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan smut #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett angst #logan howlett comfort

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hoshifighting · 3 days ago

Note

hey baby, these last days I'm thinking so much about a dk (since he is all buffed out 🫦) and a reader so shy and has liked never came before... so the she and dk are dating and they wait a bit to do the deed and she doesn't tell him, but when his fingers are inside her she just moves like so much and try to push it off all because she never felt this much :c, then dk noticed she's a virgin and treats her so well

buff dk changed lifes

WARNINGS: virginity loss, fingering, overwhelming, inexperienced!reader, oral (both), begging, edging.

you’re already feeling flushed and flustered just from kissing, hands tangled in his hair, his lips warm against yours, and when his hand slips lower, fingers grazing down between your thighs, your whole body jolts, he murmurs something low about how horny you may be, and you feel your breath catch as his fingers slip under the edge of your underwear.

the second his fingers slide inside you, it’s like everything kicks into overdrive. your hips buck up all on their own, your mind foggy, and you gasp, hands coming down to grip his wrist like it’s too wet, too much, too intense, too everything. you squirm, legs trying to close, but he just keeps his hand steady, his fingers stilling inside you for a moment, like he’s giving you a chance to catch your breath.

“hey, hey,” he whispers, “you okay, baby?” something curious in his tone, and when you don’t respond right away, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes going all soft when he sees the shy, overwhelmed look on your face. and maybe he puts it together from how tightly you’re clenching around his fingers, how your body’s trembling just from a light fingering. “wait… is this your first time?”

you swallow, cheeks going all hot, but you nod, glancing away like you’re embarrassed. his expression changes instantly—any mischief is replaced by this gentle, almost reverent look, like he’s just discovered something precious.

“oh, baby,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin so tenderly it almost makes your heart ache. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve taken things a little slower.”

you try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a shaky breath. “i didn’t want you to… think i wasn’t ready or something.”

he smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly. “we’ll go as slow as you need. and if anything feels like too much, you just tell me, okay?”

you nod, and he eases his fingers back in, spitting on it to make it wetter, watching your reactions like he’s memorizing every little gasp and shiver. his fingers curl inside you, pressing is ''button''and it’s like a spark goes off inside you, makes you feel so sensitive you almost want to pull away, but you’re already too far gone.

“you feel that, baby? feel how good you’re squeezing me?” his fingers start moving and every time he curls them, it’s like this wave of pleasure builds up inside you, your body reacting on its own, clenching around him, hips lifting like you can’t get enough even though it feels like too much.

“seok—seokmin,” you whimper, and he leans in, lips brushing over your neck as his fingers keep working you open, the sound of everything echoing around the room, soft, slick, wet. he’s watching you the whole time, eyes locked on your face like he’s looking for any sign that you’re uncomfortable, but all he sees is you, flushed and breathless, trying to keep up with how good it all feels.

“you’re doing so good, baby. just let yourself feel it.” his thumb finds the clit, pressing down in these slow circles, and it’s like every nerve in your body fires up, hips rolling viciously, squeezing around his fingers so tight it’s like you’re holding onto him with everything you’ve got. he keeps whispering sweet, filthy little things, telling you how good you feel, his words melting into your skin as you get closer. and when you finally reach that peak, it’s like your body takes over, clenching around the digits,in seconds u are blissfully ruined in his arms.

oh, and he got patience like you wouldn’t believe. he’s not rushing anything; it’s almost excruciating how slow he takes things, like he’s teaching you the art of the dirty 😭, building you up in ways you didn’t even know you could feel before.

every time he’s got you spread out beneath him, his only goal is to take his time, making you wet with his mouth and his hands. fingers finding just the right spots to make your back arch, to make you gasp and cling to him. and he’ll look up at you between your thighs; “this is all you, baby. look at how much you’re already giving me.”

and god, he loves making you beg. the way he lingers between your legs, mouth hot and skilled, dragging you to the edge only to pull back at the last second, grinning when you whine, when you whisper his name all desperate. “you want more?” he’ll murmur, giving you just a teasing lick on the swollen clit, watching you melt. but he’s got that strict patience, only letting his fingers slide back inside when its wet, good and ready, working you slow.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly wicked, he’ll make you beg to do something for him. he’ll settle back against the headboard, a smirk playing on his lips as he pats his thigh. “if you wanna take care of me, you’ve gotta show me, baby,” he’ll say encouraging. “gotta know that you’re serious about it. come on, i know you can.” and you’ll find yourself crawling over, nervous but so desperate to please, eyes wide as you look up at him, hands trembling as you reach for his cock.

when you finally get his cock in your mouth, he’s so sweet, so patient, talking you through it, guiding you with gentle words and praise. “just like that, baby… that’s it,” he’ll murmur, trying his best to not moan as. he guides you. “you look so good like this, you know? so good for me.” and he’s got his hand in your hair, not forcing or rushing, just there, guiding you, holding you close. every time you pull back, gasping for air, he just smiles, brushing his thumb over your drooled bottom lip.

but he doesn’t let you get too far.

every time you think tonight’s the night, when you’re all worked up and ready, practically begging for him, he’ll just grin, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep, his fingers sliding right back between your thighs. “not yet, baby... not until you’re really, really ready. until you’re craving me so much you can’t stand it.” and he keeps you there, keeps you on edge night after night, learning every inch of your body, every little sound you make, until he’s got you wrapped around his finger—literally (?).

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megamindsecretlair · 3 days ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for.

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries?

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex?

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit.

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time?

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate.

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan.

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors.

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent.

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner.

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad.

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief.

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend?

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it.

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest.

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice.

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not?

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes.

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit.

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body.

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy.

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you.

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing.

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun.

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks.

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic?

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off.

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut.

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath.

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed.

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box.

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick.

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia.

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits.

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies.

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire.

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out.

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said.

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said.

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?”

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips.

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes.

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser?

It was impossible. Hopeless.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn?

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release?

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said.

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body.

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro.

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again.

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question.

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said.

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man.

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute.

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell.

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them.

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands.

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal.

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it?

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent.

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas.

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside.

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with.

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face.

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring.

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered.

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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todaysofthestinky · 3 days ago

Text

"Oh, Mr. Yagami, sorry to bother you again. Just one more thing."

"Detective Columbo, I didn’t expect to see you again. Is there something else you need?"

"Well, it’s a funny thing, Mr. Yagami. See, I’ve been going over these files, you know, and I kept noticing these strange patterns with the deaths of criminals. It’s like someone’s cleaning up the streets, almost like... someone’s making it happen."

"That’s an interesting theory, Detective, but aren’t we all thankful the crime rate is going down? Maybe it’s just good police work."

"Oh, absolutely. Could be that. But there was this one little thing I just can’t shake... and it’s really got me puzzled."

"And what’s that?"

"It’s this notebook we found. It’s got a list of names, all of them lining up with recently deceased criminals. Names, dates, and some other... curious details."

"And wouldn’t you know, each of those names, written down right before each person, uh, 'had an accident.' Strange, huh?"

"Detective, are you suggesting that a notebook could somehow cause someone’s death? It sounds absurd."

"Oh, you’re absolutely right, Mr. Yagami. It sounds ridiculous. And believe me, I wouldn’t believe it myself, but here’s the odd thing—each of those names? They’re written in *your handwriting*."

"Detective, that’s impossible. Anyone could’ve forged my handwriting."

"Oh, you’re right. Could be anyone. But, uh, there’s just one other thing. I started looking into the people who might’ve known about this notebook, anyone who could have a reason to use it, if it were real, of course."

"And wouldn’t you know, every single person who might’ve had that knowledge, who might’ve been a threat to someone using this notebook, well… they’re not around to tell us anymore."

"Detective, this is all hypothetical. There’s no proof any of this is real."

"Oh, I know, Mr. Yagami, I know. This whole idea of a ‘Death Note’—it’s pure fantasy, right? But my wife, she always says, 'Columbo, sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.' And something tells me this story’s a bit stranger than I first thought."

"Just one last thing, Mr. Yagami. If you were, hypothetically, behind all this… well, a person as smart as you would already know I’ve got my eye on him. Just food for thought."

(link to original)

#columbo #death note

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51voices · 2 days ago

Text

Healing Touch

Kinkvember Day 14: Oral (TW: Emotional & Physical Abuse)

StayC Isa (Lee Chaeyoung) x Male reader

AN: Just a heads-up, this story has more character development and plot, with less smut than usual. I hope you guys still enjoy!

“AGH, fuck!” Isa’s breath comes in shallow gasps, her body still tingling from the waves of pleasure that had just torn through her. The room is filled with the quiet aftermath of your lovemaking, a soft hum of satisfaction buzzing in the dim light. She lies beside you, skin slick with sweat, her heartbeat slowly returning to its natural rhythm. For a few moments, neither of you speaks—just the sound of your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high, letting the silence settle in comfortably.

You lie on your back next to her, staring up at the ceiling with a lazy grin, your chest rising and falling in sync with hers. Isa turns her head toward you, her body still warm and electric from the intensity you just shared. She treasures these moments—the calm after the storm—when every part of her feels alive yet settled. But tonight, something lingers at the edge of her mind, a familiar ache that always seems to resurface after these most intimate moments.

It’s been a year and a half since you became a couple,—since you reached the point where words were no longer enough to hold what you shared. You’ve grown closer with each passing day, yet even now, there are places in you that feel just out of reach to her, guarded and closed. Isa longs to reach those parts, to touch you in ways that go beyond the physical. She feels it most in the aftermath of nights like this—when your bodies speak a language all their own, but she knows there’s still something more, something unspoken between you.

You both bask in the comfortable silence, bodies entangled yet thoughts drifting. Isa’s fingers trace the lines of your chest lazily, feeling the steady warmth of your skin beneath her touch, grounding her. Her body hums with contentment, but her mind is already longing for something beyond it. She feels the quiet tension that always lingers after, a sense of wanting to give herself more fully to you, to offer parts of herself that words or touch can’t fully convey.

After a few moments, Isa turns her head toward you, her voice soft, carrying a hint of hope. “Do you want me to… take care of you?” She doesn’t need to be more specific; you know what she means. She wants to show her love in this way, to take you to that place of vulnerability she finds beautiful.

You smile faintly but shake your head, brushing it off. “No need, baby. You don’t have to. I’m good.”

Isa’s heart sinks, a familiar disappointment settling in. The rejection stings, even more than she lets herself admit. “I know I don’t have to,” she murmurs, her fingers still tracing patterns on your chest, searching for the right words. “I want to.”

Your response is gentle but dismissive, as always. “I’m spent. Too tired,” you say, your voice already softening with sleep as you turn to spoon her from behind. Your arm wraps around her waist, pulling her close, and Isa can feel the warmth of your body against hers, your breath soft against her neck. But despite your words, she feels your half-hardened length pressing against her, betraying your claim of exhaustion.

Her mind swirls as she lies there in your embrace. She’s noticed this pattern before—how you always find a reason to decline her offer. It isn’t the first time you’ve said you’re “tired” or that it “wasn’t necessary.” Each time, it leaves Isa feeling more confused and frustrated. For her, it isn’t about obligation; it’s her way of showing love, an expression as important as anything else you do together. She wants to share that intimacy with you—to feel the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure in her own way. And yet, every time she tries, you have an excuse.

Tonight, with the way your body presses against hers even as your words tell her no, the quiet rejection stings more deeply than ever.

As you hold her, your arm draped over her waist, you sense a shift in her, a quiet tension. Normally, after moments like these, you would both talk softly or drift into easy silence. But tonight, there’s a difference in the air, something in the way her body feels tense against yours, her breath slow but not fully relaxed.

“Chae,” you say, your voice breaking through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Isa hesitates, biting her lip as her thoughts tumble over one another. Should she brush it off? Or is tonight the night to finally voice what’s been building inside her? After a long moment, she sighs and rolls over slightly to face you, her gaze soft but searching.

“Why don’t you ever let me… you know, give you head?” she begins quietly, her voice uncertain but steady. “It’s not like I don’t want to. I love doing it. I love making you feel good in that way. But you always say no.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by her honesty. You open your mouth to respond, but Isa continues, the words pouring out now that she’s started.

“I don’t want to pressure you, I swear,” she says, her fingers resting lightly on your chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of your heart. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. You say you’re tired, or that you’re fine, but it’s a way for me to show my love, and I want to share that with you. But you keep shutting me down.”

Her words hang in the air between you, a weight both of you can feel. Isa’s heart pounds as she waits for your response, vulnerability tightening in her chest, wondering if you’ll brush it off or finally explain what holds you back.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, your gaze shifting as if searching for the right words. You’ve always avoided this conversation, not because you don’t care about Isa’s feelings, but because the truth isn’t something you like to acknowledge—not even to yourself.

Finally, after a long pause, you look back at her, your expression serious but softened by affection. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… complicated.”

The words sit between you, a partial explanation that leaves Isa feeling both relieved and unsatisfied. She knows you well enough to sense that you aren’t ready to share more, so she nods, squeezing your hand gently before releasing it. She won’t push you any further tonight, but a familiar ache remains, lingering like an unanswered question, a space between you still waiting to be bridged.

-----

The next day, as Isa strolled through the market, the weight of your quiet rejection still lingered, gnawing at her thoughts. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the comforting aroma of baked goods from nearby stalls, yet the usual warmth she felt here seemed dulled. The marketplace buzzed around her—children laughing, vendors calling out their offers—but Isa moved through it, distracted, her mind tethered to the unsettled feeling that trailed her since last night. As much as she loved you and felt a deep connection, there was this persistent gap—your quiet refusal to let her give you pleasure in the way she most wanted.

It wasn’t that you were harsh about it; you always deflected her with gentle excuses: Not right now, I’m too tired, You don’t need to. But Isa cherished to have this connection with you. For her, it was an act of love, something woven into her very identity. Giving herself in that way made her feel closer, like she was tapping into a deeper level of intimacy, one that words or gestures couldn’t quite match. Yet, every time she offered, you gently closed the door. The rejection, soft as it was, had begun to settle into her, like an ache that didn’t quite fade.

Lost in thought, Isa approached a vegetable stall, barely noticing the colorful array of produce before her. Just as she reached out to pick a ripe tomato, a familiar voice pulled her back to the present.

“Isa? Is that you?”

Isa looked up, her heart skipping a beat. There, standing a few feet away, was Sojang—your ex—smiling at her with an easy familiarity that immediately set Isa on edge. They had met once before, briefly, and Isa hadn’t thought much of her since. But seeing her here, unexpectedly, in the middle of her own thoughts about you, made Isa feel oddly unsettled, as if her internal worries were somehow surfacing before her.

“Oh, hey! Sojang, right?” Isa managed a smile, though it felt tight, her voice sounding more strained than she intended.

Sojang beamed, her expression disarmingly friendly, almost too friendly. “Yes! It’s so nice to run into you. How are you? How’s Y/N?”

Isa nodded, trying to mirror Sojang’s warmth. “I’m good! We’re good, thanks. Just picking up a few things for dinner,” she replied, hoping the conversation would remain light and fleeting.

“Ah, nice, nice,” Sojang said, her eyes gleaming with an interest that made Isa feel oddly exposed. There was something too sweet, too earnest in her tone. Isa couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about Sojang’s bright smile that felt like a performance, a mask that was a little too carefully worn. Isa pushed the thought away, telling herself she was just being paranoid.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Sojang filling Isa in on her recent return to town. Isa responded politely, though the conversation felt increasingly forced, like Sojang was trying to carve out some deeper connection than Isa wanted. As she listened, Isa’s intuition prickled, a sense that Sojang’s friendliness was intentional, perhaps even calculated. Nothing was explicitly wrong, but her smile seemed too eager, like a practiced act Isa hadn’t signed up to watch.

Then, out of nowhere, Sojang’s tone shifted, becoming playfully teasing. She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, since you’re with him, your jaw must be tired all the time, huh?” Sojang winked, a sly smirk dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Isa blinked, her mind momentarily freezing. “Uh… what?”

Sojang laughed, seemingly taking Isa’s reaction as bashfulness. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to pretend. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time.” She winked again, as if they shared some private joke, as if they were in on the same secret.

Isa’s stomach dropped, a cold, twisting sensation gripping her. “I… um…” Her thoughts raced, scrambling for a response. That wasn’t you. You never begged for oral—if anything, you avoided it. What was Sojang talking about?

Oblivious to Isa’s discomfort, Sojang continued, her tone light, even bubbly. “Oh, trust me. He loves it. He was always asking me for it. Like, constantly. It was kind of his thing, you know? Blowjobs were his main way to unwind.” She giggled, reminiscing with a fondness that felt almost too casual, as if she were sharing a harmless story. “I mean, I used to joke that my jaw was always sore because of him!”

Isa tried to process Sojang’s words, but they didn’t align with the version of you she knew. Her pulse quickened, each beat intensifying the confusion as Sojang’s words echoed in her mind. Constantly? Always asking? She barely managed to keep her expression composed, though her head was spinning. This didn’t sound like you—at least, not the you she knew. The more she tried to piece it together, the more alien it felt.

With effort, she forced a smile, though it wavered. “That’s… interesting. I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah!” Sojang replied, all too happy to continue. “If there’s one thing he loved, it was a good blowjob. I used to give them to him all the time. It was like the highlight of his day,” she added with a carefree laugh. “I’m sure you’re keeping him satisfied.”

Isa’s throat tightened, each of Sojang’s words adding to a strange, hollow ache that made her feel smaller, less certain. The more Sojang talked, the more Isa felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. She wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but found herself grasping for words that wouldn’t come. You had never once hinted that you wanted that from her, and every time she offered, you politely refused. Yet here was Sojang, painting a completely different picture of you, one that seemed to revel in a kind of pleasure you wouldn’t let her give.

A sliver of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts, each repetition of Sojang’s words chipping away at her confidence. Was it her? Was she the problem?

“Yeah, um, well…” Isa stammered, her voice trailing off as she glanced down, feeling awkward and exposed in a conversation that had turned sharp without warning. Sojang kept talking, oblivious to Isa’s growing discomfort, but Isa could barely focus on her words. All she could think about was the contrast Sojang’s experience painted, a version of you that felt foreign, unsettling.

If you loved it so much, why didn’t you want it from her?

The question echoed in her mind, nagging, each repetition a sharper edge to her doubt. After a few more forced pleasantries, Sojang finally said her goodbyes, leaving Isa standing alone in the crowded market, the buzz of conversation and laughter around her feeling oddly muted. As Sojang walked away, a heavy feeling settled in Isa’s chest, as if she’d been blindsided, caught off guard in a game she hadn’t known she was playing. Sojang’s cheerful demeanor had made it seem casual, unimportant even, but Isa’s heart felt weighed down by confusion and self-doubt.

On the walk home, the conversation replayed in her mind, every detail sharpening the ache inside her. Sojang’s words kept circling back, as if taunting her: you loved it, needed it, craved it. So why didn’t you want it from her? Was something wrong with her? Did you not trust her the way you had trusted Sojang? Or was there something deeper—something about her that just didn’t move you in the same way?

The doubt gnawed at her, a relentless churning that she couldn’t shake. She told herself not to let Sojang’s words get to her, that people change, that your past with her was just that—the past. But the seeds of insecurity had been planted, and they were starting to take root, their grip tightening around her heart.

More than anything, something about Sojang’s comments unsettled her on a deeper level. The way Sojang had been too familiar, too knowing, as if she’d relished the chance to make Isa feel small. Isa tried to shake the thought, to dismiss it as paranoia, but the suspicion lingered, settling uncomfortably in the back of her mind.

By the time she reached home, the unease had only grown stronger, her heart weighed down with questions she was almost afraid to ask.

-----

That evening, you and Isa sat down for dinner together. You had prepared a comforting meal of pasta in a rosé sauce with a side of golden, buttery garlic bread. On Isa’s plate was a vibrant mix of grilled vegetables and quinoa sprinkled with fresh herbs. Normally, the familiar flavors and your shared meal would soothe her, but tonight, they barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the remnants of her encounter with Sojang and the unsettling thoughts that had trailed her all the way home.

You began chatting about your day, sharing funny stories from work, your face lighting up as you recounted your coworker’s clumsy misadventures with the new coffee machine. Isa nodded along, trying to stay present, even forcing a few laughs. But her mind kept drifting back to the market, to Sojang’s words, each one chipping at her sense of ease, making her quieter than usual.

After a moment, you looked up from your plate, brow furrowing as you noticed her stillness. “Hey, is the food okay?” you asked gently, eyes filled with concern. “You’ve barely touched it.”

Isa shook her head quickly, offering a faint smile. “Oh, no, it’s good,” she replied, taking a small, obligatory bite of her vegetables, though she hardly tasted them. She didn’t want to bring up Sojang or the thoughts stirring inside her—not now, not over dinner. But she couldn’t shake the tension, and every time she looked up, she could feel your worried gaze settling on her.

The two of you finished the meal in subdued silence, Isa barely eating, her appetite dulled by the emotions she was wrestling with. You quietly gathered the dishes and moved to the sink, washing them with your usual care, while Isa slipped into the bedroom, feeling the weight of her unresolved thoughts pressing down on her, heavier than before.

Later that evening, Isa sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her mind a whirl of doubt and frustration. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of running water as you washed up, the quiet rhythm amplifying the silence around her. She tried to focus on her nightly routine, brushing her hair, massaging moisturizer into her skin, but her thoughts kept dragging her back to the market—to Sojang’s playful, almost taunting voice. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time. The words echoed in her mind, louder and sharper with each repetition, until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

How could Sojang’s experience with you have been so different from her own? Isa had tried to offer you that same intimacy, that same pleasure, only to be gently brushed off each time. She wanted to feel close to you in every way, to connect with you on the most vulnerable level, but your repeated refusals… they were beginning to feel like a rejection of her, not just of the act.

By the time she crawled into bed, you were coming out of the bathroom, hair damp, smile easy. Normally, Isa would feel comforted by your presence, but tonight her body tensed as you slid in beside her. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close like always, but instead of the familiar warmth she usually felt, Isa found herself resisting, a strange weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured, noticing her stiffness. You pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

Isa swallowed, managing a weak smile though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

You didn’t look convinced. Shifting slightly, you propped yourself up on one elbow to study her face, concern etched in your expression. “Chae? You seem… off. Did I do something?”

Isa felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to talk about it—not yet, not when her thoughts felt this raw and tangled. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it without sounding insecure. “I’m just tired,” she repeated softly, turning her head away. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

You hesitated, clearly worried, but you nodded, giving her space. “Alright,” you said gently, settling back down beside her. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Isa didn’t respond, keeping her back to you as she curled up on her side. Normally, she would lean into you, her back against your chest, feeling safe and grounded. But tonight, she held herself apart, feeling an unfamiliar anger simmering beneath her sadness. You shifted behind her, closing the gap between you, your arm slipping around her waist again, but she stayed still, not moving to nestle into your embrace.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft, tinged with guilt. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Your words tugged at her heart, yet Isa couldn’t bring herself to respond. She wasn’t even sure if it was something you had done, or something inside herself that had shifted. She stayed turned away, eyes shut tightly, fighting against the frustration building in her chest. The image of Sojang’s cheerful, too-knowing smile and her casual comments gnawed at her, each one twisting further into her insecurities.

Eventually, Isa drifted into an uneasy sleep, her body still tense with your arm draped over her. But for the first time, the warmth she usually found in your touch felt distant, as if a wall had formed between you, quiet but unmistakable

-----

When Isa woke the next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping her chest. She turned over, expecting to find you still asleep beside her, but you were already up, pulling on a t-shirt at the foot of the bed. You smiled when you saw her stirring.

“Morning, beautiful,” you said gently, crossing over to kiss her forehead. Your touch was familiar, warm, but Isa’s thoughts were elsewhere—trapped in yesterday’s conversation with Sojang.

Isa sat up slowly, her mind racing, replaying Sojang’s words over and over. You slipped back into bed beside her, draping an arm around her waist like you always did, but today, it felt wrong. She tensed, her skin crawling with unease. You kissed her shoulder, your lips soft against her skin, but Isa couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts—the image of Sojang talking so casually about how much you had loved receiving oral.

She tried to smile, tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but the tension inside her was building too fast. Isa pulled away from your touch, sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. You immediately noticed the shift, frowning as she distanced herself.

“Chae... what’s going on?” you asked, your voice gentle but filled with concern. “You’re not yourself. Did I do something?”

Isa bit her lip, her chest tightening. She could feel the frustration and doubt bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Why won’t you let me do it?” she asked quietly, her voice tense.

You furrowed your brow, confused. “Do what?”

Isa’s hands tightened in her lap. She turned slightly toward you, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Give you head. Why won’t you ever let me? Why was it okay with Sojang but not with me?”

You instantly stiffened at her words. Your entire body went rigid, eyes narrowing slightly as you processed what she was asking. Your reaction was immediate and unmistakable.

“Wait... why did you and Sojang meet up?” you asked, your voice sharp with unease.

Isa blinked, caught off guard by your sudden tension. She frowned, shaking her head, thinking you were deflecting. “Seriously? That’s your concern right now? You’re trying to change the subject.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on her, body still stiff with discomfort. “No, I—I’m just asking—”

“Sojang told me everything,” Isa interrupted, her voice rising with emotion. “She said you two broke up on good terms. She made it sound like you had this perfect relationship and then just decided to part ways. She implied that blowjobs were practically your favorite thing.” Isa’s voice wavered as her insecurity bubbled up. “She made it sound like she could give you something I can’t. Is that why you keep pushing me away?”

Your face tightened further at the mention of Sojang, your jaw clenching as your eyes flickered with something Isa couldn’t quite read. She mistook your reaction for guilt, for confirmation of her worst fears.

“If that’s what you want—if you still want her—I can leave,” Isa continued, her voice cracking. “If you’d rather be with Sojang, just tell me. I won’t stand in the way.”

You blinked, expression shifting from tense to confused. “Wait, what?” you asked, clearly thrown off. “Leave? Babe, what are you talking about?”

“You guys are perfect for each other. I get it. If she’s still important to you, I won’t—”

“Chae, don’t think like that,” you interrupted, your voice firm but bewildered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s not what this is about.”

Isa froze, tears pricking her eyes as she stared at you, her frustration and confusion now battling with her fear of rejection. “Then why?” Her voice broke, and her tears finally spilled over. “Why won’t you let me show you how much I love you? Why do you keep pushing me away? What’s wrong with me?”

Your face softened with guilt and regret, shoulders sagging as if the weight of what you had been holding back was finally crashing down on you. You reached out for her, but Isa pulled away, too hurt to accept your comfort.

“Honey, please, listen to me,” you said, your voice low, thick with emotion. “It’s not you. I swear, it’s not about you.”

“Then what is it?” Isa demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and heartache.

“Sojang...” you began, your voice strained, “she’s not what you think.”

Your hands trembled in your lap, eyes darting away from Isa’s as the weight of your past pressed down on you. You could feel your throat tighten, chest aching as memories you had tried to bury for so long began to resurface. Isa’s heart pounded in her chest, watching you with growing concern. She had never seen you like this—so vulnerable, so visibly distressed. You were always the strong one, the one who held her together when she felt like falling apart. But now, sitting there with your hands shaking and your gaze far away, she realized how much you had been hiding from her.

You took a deep breath, jaw tightening before you finally spoke, your voice low and strained. “Sojang... she’s not who you think she is. And we didn’t break up on good terms. We didn’t end things cleanly like she made it sound. I didn’t even tell her it was over face to face. I just... I left.”

Isa’s eyes widened slightly, her heart already sinking at the pain she could hear in your voice. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, not wanting to push, but needing to understand.

You stared at your hands, fingers fidgeting with the sheets as you tried to explain. “Sojang… She was my first girlfriend. I didn’t know any better back then. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I was just happy that someone wanted to be with me, you know?” You glanced up at Isa, your eyes filled with a mixture of shame and sadness. “I thought that was love.”

Isa’s heart broke at your words. She could see it now—the innocence, the trust you had given Sojang, not knowing what a healthy relationship looked like. You had believed Sojang loved you, that the way she treated you was normal, and it made her stomach turn.

“At first, everything seemed fine,” you continued, your voice growing quieter. “But slowly, she started changing. She got controlling. She’d use sex as a way to manipulate me.”

Isa felt a lump form in her throat as your words sank in. She could see how much this was hurting you, how difficult it was for you to relive these memories. She wanted to reach out and comfort you, but she didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to get this out.

“She’d use it to punish me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Whenever I did something she didn’t like, whenever I tried to pull away from her, she’d… use her mouth to cause me pain. I know that sounds weird, but she knew exactly how to hurt me. She’d make it seem like it was this intimate thing, but it wasn’t. It was about control, about making me feel powerless.”

Isa’s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. The idea that Sojang had weaponized something so intimate, something that should have been about love and connection, made her feel sick.

“It got worse,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I flinched, if I tried to tell her to stop, she’d accuse me of not being a real man. She’d say things like, ‘How can you not like blowjobs? What kind of guy doesn’t enjoy that?’ She made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And when I started to believe that... I didn’t know how to leave.”

You swallowed hard, your voice growing even quieter as the memories overwhelmed you. “Sojang would say things like, ‘Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a girl like me suck you off? You should be grateful.’ And for a while, I believed her. I thought… Maybe she was right. I didn’t feel lucky, but I felt like I had to be. Like I was crazy for not wanting it.”

Isa’s heart shattered as she listened. She had no idea that Sojang had twisted something so intimate into a way to control and demean you. Your hands clenched in your lap as you continued, the words pouring out now, like you had been holding them in for too long.

“I hated it,” you said, your voice raw. “But I stayed because I thought that was what love was supposed to be. I thought… I thought maybe this was all I was worth. Maybe she was right.”

Isa’s tears fell freely now. She wanted to reach out, to tell you that none of it had been your fault, that you weren’t the problem, but she stayed silent, letting you finish.

“I started dreading it,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “Every time she’d order me to undress, I knew it wasn’t about love or making me feel good. It was about control. And I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Isa’s stomach churned, imagining the fear and helplessness you must have felt, trapped in a relationship with someone who wielded intimacy as a weapon.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, your voice barely audible now. “I reached my breaking point, and one night, I just… I left. I snuck out. Cut all contact. I didn’t even tell her it was over. I was scared she’d pull me back in again. I was scared she’d make me feel like I was the problem, all over again.”

Isa’s tears blurred her vision as she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “Oh my God… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, filled with sorrow and regret. She couldn’t believe how much you had been holding inside, how much you had been carrying alone.

You finally looked up at her, your expression filled with pain but also relief, as if finally saying these words had lifted some of the weight from your chest. But your eyes still carried that haunted look, as though the trauma lingered, even after all this time.

“That’s why I can’t let you do it,” you said softly, your voice hoarse. “It’s not about you, baby. I love you. But every time you offer, all I can think about is her. The pain. The manipulation. I don’t want to go back there.”

Isa’s heart shattered all over again. She had thought your refusals were about her, but now she saw it for what it was—a way to protect yourself from reliving the nightmare that had nearly broken you.

Tears streamed down her face as she scooted closer to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You didn’t cry, but she could feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles were taut, as though you were barely holding yourself together. You had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together. And now, here you were, crumbling in her arms, showing her the depth of your vulnerability.

“You’re not weak,” Isa whispered, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re not. You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you so much.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, but your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. It was a small gesture, but Isa knew what it meant. You were letting her in, slowly, piece by piece.

The two of you sat there in silence, Isa holding you as if her embrace could somehow mend the cracks in your heart. She wished it could. She wished she could erase all the pain your ex had caused you, take away the trauma that had scarred you so deeply. But she knew that wasn’t possible.

All she could do was be there for you. To love you. To show you that this—your love—was real, and safe, and nothing like the twisted version Sojang had given you.

“I love you,” Isa whispered again, her tears dampening your shoulder.

-----

In the days and weeks following your confession, something shifted between you and Isa—not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel even closer to you. She hadn’t realized just how much you had been holding inside, how much of yourself you’d kept hidden. Now that you’d shared your past, there was a lightness about you that Isa had never seen before.

You were still the strong, steady man she’d always known, but now there was a vulnerability you allowed yourself to show. You smiled more, laughed a bit louder, and even in the quiet moments between you, there was a newfound ease. It wasn’t that your trauma had vanished—it never would—but confiding in Isa had released some of its hold, and that brought her a profound sense of love and pride.

Isa never pushed, nor did she bring up what you had told her unless you wanted to talk. She understood that healing was not something that happened overnight, and she didn’t want you to feel rushed or like you had to “fix” yourself for her. She was simply there, letting you go at your own pace, accepting that some things might never change and that this was okay.

Still, she made sure you knew she was there for you, whenever you were ready.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Isa turned to you, cupping your face gently. “I just want you to know,” she whispered, her voice warm with love, “that whenever—or if ever—you feel ready, I’d love to show you what real love feels like. Not the kind that hurts, not the kind that controls. Just love. Real, safe, and full of trust.”

Your eyes softened, and you covered her hand with yours, saying nothing but giving her a look that held everything she needed to know. You weren’t ready yet, but Isa’s patience meant the world to you.

So, life continued. You grew more open, letting yourself be more at ease. Isa noticed the subtle ways you began to change—the quiet confidence that started to return, the warmth in your touch, the way you kissed her a little longer each morning. Your bond grew deeper, and Isa felt a pride she couldn’t put into words, watching you heal, knowing she had created a space for you to feel safe.

Then, as time passed, things shifted. Slowly but surely, the weight you carried seemed lighter, and the shadows in your gaze began to lift. You still had difficult days, times when memories resurfaced, and Isa could sense your mind drifting to a place she couldn’t reach. But you no longer shut her out. You let her in, allowing her to be with you even when the darkness threatened to creep back in.

And Isa never pushed. She loved you, and that was more than enough.

Soon, your birthday arrived, a day Isa had been secretly looking forward to it. There was no need for grand gestures—it was just a day for the two of you, a time to celebrate how far you had come together. You spent the day as you always did—laughing, reminiscing, and filling each other’s lives with stories and small joys. That evening, after a cozy dinner at your favorite little restaurant, you walked home hand-in-hand, the city lights shimmering like stars around you, the crisp night air wrapping you both in a sense of warmth and belonging.

When you got home, you pulled her into your arms as soon as you crossed the doorway, your embrace tender but filled with affection. Isa’s heart fluttered as you whispered softly against her hair.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you replied, gazing back at her with a warmth that made her feel like the only person in the world.

The rest of the evening was spent together, curled up on the couch, comfortable and content in your little bubble. Isa had no expectations for the night; she was simply grateful to be with you, sharing another beautiful year. But as the night wore on, she noticed something different in your demeanor—a quiet intensity in your gaze, a sense of anticipation in your touch, as though you were building up to something.

Later, as you lay in bed, you turned to her, your eyes searching hers, the sincerity and calmness in your gaze making her heart race.

“Chae,” you began softly, your voice a bit shy, a hint of hesitation as you traced gentle patterns on her arm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about showing me what real love feels like.”

Isa blinked, her heart suddenly pounding. She hadn’t expected you to bring it up—not tonight, not even ever if you didn’t want to. She sat up a little, holding your gaze, her excitement barely contained.

You took a steadying breath, your fingers curling around hers. “I think I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to try… with you.” Your eyes softened, the weight of your words filled with trust. “I trust you, more than anyone.”

Isa’s breath caught, her heart swelling with joy. You had always been the one to gently refuse when she offered to give you head, and she had never thought you’d be the one to ask.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, you added softly, “I was wondering if… if you’d still want to. I mean, if you still wanted to… you know…”

“Yes!” Isa answered, her voice bright with excitement before you could even finish your sentence. Her cheeks flushed, a soft, shy laugh escaping her as she realized how eagerly she’d spoken. “I mean… yes,” she whispered, this time more softly, her face glowing with love and anticipation.

Your eyes lit up at her response, and Isa couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She’d been waiting for this—not just because of the act itself, but because it meant you trusted her in a way you hadn’t been able to before.

“You’re sure?” Isa whispered, her voice tender, but her heart raced with excitement. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to… I’d be happy to wait.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I’m sure,” you murmured, warmth in your eyes. “I want this. With you.”

With a soft smile, Isa moved closer, leaning down to press gentle kisses along your chest, her lips trailing slowly, savoring the feel of your skin. Each kiss was a promise, filled with the love she held for you—a love that was gentle, safe, and real, just as she had always hoped to give.

As her kisses moved lower, Isa could feel your breath deepen, the slow rise and fall of your chest as you allowed yourself to relax. Her hands slid down your torso, brushing over the hard planes of your stomach, and she smiled to herself, feeling the slight shiver of your muscles responding to her touch. There was something deeply intimate about these moments—something Isa had craved, not just for herself, but for you.

She reached your hips, her fingers teasing along the waistband of your boxers, and she could feel the tension there, the quiet anticipation that came with trusting someone enough to let them in. Isa paused, her lips brushing against your hip bone as she looked up at you, meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper, wanting to make sure you were truly ready.

Your gaze met hers, your breathing a little heavier now, but there was no hesitation in your eyes. You gave her a small nod, your hand threading gently through her hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m more than okay.”

With a gentle nod from you, Isa slowly pulled down your boxers, revealing you to her. For a moment, she simply paused, admiring you, taking in the quiet beauty of this moment—your body, open and vulnerable, trusting her completely in the most intimate way. Her heart swelled with love, understanding that this wasn’t just about the act itself but about showing you that intimacy could be safe and beautiful.

Her hand wrapped around you first, her touch soft and unhurried. She felt you respond immediately, a subtle tension running through your muscles as her fingers moved in a gentle, deliberate rhythm. Isa’s heart skipped as she saw you like this—open, trusting, letting her guide each moment. She brushed her thumb over the sensitive tip, watching as your breath hitched, your hand tightening slightly in her hair, not guiding or pushing, just resting there, a silent expression of trust.

Isa lowered her head, taking you into her mouth with tender care, her lips wrapping slowly around you as she savored the warmth of your skin. She moved deliberately, her hands resting on you, steady and reassuring, her mouth exploring you with gentle affection. Each movement was thoughtful, her focus entirely on you, every moment filled with care.

She heard soft sounds escape your lips—quiet, breathy sighs that let her know you were starting to let go. Your hand stayed light on her head, not guiding, just there, a reassuring reminder that you felt safe. Isa moved at her own pace, unhurried, making sure each second was filled with intention and love. There was no rush, no goal; she simply wanted you to feel safe, to understand that this could be pure and healing.

Isa found herself enjoying each second, more deeply than she had expected. It wasn’t just about your pleasure—it was about seeing you let go, watching your body respond in a way that showed you were leaving the pain of the past behind. A quiet warmth flooded her chest, a sense of fulfillment, knowing she was finally able to give you this kind of love and closeness.

As she continued, Isa felt your breathing grow more unsteady, your muscles tensing as you edged closer. Her movements remained gentle but purposeful, her hand and mouth moving in sync. Every soft sound you made, every shiver, filled her with pride, knowing you were allowing her to take you to this vulnerable place. To her, it felt like a gift you were both sharing.

A moment later, your breath hitched sharply, your hand tightening in her hair as if bracing yourself. “Oh, fuck, Chae,” you breathed out, voice thick with a blend of surprise and pleasure. Hearing her name from you, Isa felt a surge of warmth, a quiet assurance that you were allowing yourself to feel fully, without holding back.

Your body tensed one last time, every muscle tightening as Isa felt the warmth of your release fill her mouth, unexpectedly intense. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, her heart swelling with the depth of the trust you had placed in her. The sensation was overwhelming, but she held steady, her lips remaining gentle and firm around you as she guided you through each wave, ensuring you felt safe, cherished, and seen.

As each pulse flowed into her, Isa’s movements grew even more tender, her hands holding you with care, a gentle presence as she felt you surrender completely. She swallowed softly, letting you essence fill her completely, her touch light and reassuring. Each subtle twitch, each surge of release, was a testament to the vulnerability you were willing to share, and she received it all with love.

With every pump, Isa could feel your tension melting away, and a quiet pride blossomed within her. She knew what this moment meant—that you had entrusted her with something sacred, a vulnerability once guarded. She felt a sense of fulfillment, a deep sense of joy and purpose, as she coaxed you through each wave, letting you know with every gentle movement that you were safe and deeply cherished.

Keeping her mouth softly around you, Isa lingered, savoring the warmth of every response from your body. Each twitch, each gentle pulse, filled her with satisfaction, a connection she had longed to share with you. This was her love in action, a gift of care and devotion. The fullness of that feeling glowed within her, making each touch an act of affection.

When you glanced down, your breath caught at the sight of her—her mouth still gently surrounding you, her eyes meeting yours with a look so full of care, warmth, and adoration that it sent a shiver through you. Her gaze was unwavering, her expression beautifully open, filled with a love that went beyond words.

With a slow, tender swirl of her tongue, Isa gently lapped up every last trace, her movements graceful and attentive, savoring each second. Her lips stayed around you until she released you with a soft, lingering pop. She then pressed a gentle kiss to your tip, a shimmering thread connecting her lips to you for a moment before it faded, leaving her with a soft smile of pure contentment.

Feeling deeply fulfilled, Isa continued to shower you with tender kisses, each one unhurried and filled with meaning. She traced a delicate path along your length, her mouth warm, her kisses gentle and intentional, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Her heart swelled with love and pride, knowing that you were allowing her to be this close, to give you this intimacy. Each kiss felt like a balm, a way of rewriting the past, easing old hurts with a touch that was gentle and true.

She took her time, mixing in soft licks with her kisses, her gaze never leaving yours. She wanted you to feel her presence in every touch, to know that this was her gift to you—a gift of safety, of trust, of unconditional love.

With one final, lingering kiss to your tip, Isa’s lips held there, as if sealing a promise. Then, slowly, she began to kiss her way back up, her warm lips trailing along your skin, savoring every inch. Each kiss felt like an affirmation, a reminder that she was exactly where she wanted to be, giving herself to you in a way that felt both sacred and healing.

When she finally lay beside you, your chest was still rising and falling, your breath heavy as you came down from the high of her love. Isa rested her hand lightly on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm, her own heart swelling with fulfillment and joy.

For a few quiet moments, neither of you spoke, letting the silence fill with warmth and contentment. Finally, as your breathing settled, you turned to Isa, your eyes wide, your expression a mixture of amazement and gratitude. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, simply gazing at her with a quiet reverence. And then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head, holding her close, knowing that words could never capture what you both had just shared.

“Honey… that was…” You paused, breath still uneven, feeling your heart race as you searched for words. “I mean, I don’t even know what to say. That was… incredible. You’re incredible.”

Isa’s lips curved into a soft smile, her own chest warm with the closeness you’d just shared. She let out a laugh, eyes bright as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “Speechless?” she teased, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I think that might be a first.”

You laughed, shaking your head, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll find words anytime soon. That was… way beyond anything I ever imagined it could be.” You rubbed a hand over your face, still looking a bit dazed. “Chae, you’re just… I can’t believe how... we need to do that again.”

Isa let out another soft laugh, her face lighting up as she took in your reaction, the awe in your expression making her feel more than just appreciated—she felt deeply cherished, like she had given you a gift that mattered. Leaning in, she pressed a playful kiss to your nose. “Glad I could surprise you,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, still in awe. “Surprise doesn’t even cover it,” you said, shaking your head, the sincerity in your voice deepening. “That was…wow.”

Isa’s laughter softened, a tender look settling in her eyes as her fingers traced soft, comforting circles on your chest. “Well, I’m glad I could be the one to show you,” she said, her voice gentle, filled with love. “You deserve to feel this way, to feel safe, to feel everything. And… I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers, giving them a gentle, lingering squeeze. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion as you met her gaze. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find someone like you.”

Isa’s playful smile softened, her gaze warm as she squeezed your hand in return. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” she said, a light laugh escaping her as she nestled closer. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “Lucky doesn’t even come close,” you whispered, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her as if to hold onto this moment forever.

You lay together, letting the silence settle between you, comfortable and content, Isa’s heart swelling with joy at having been able to share this moment with you, and you filled with gratitude for her presence, her patience, and her love. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest, letting her lips linger over the steady beat of your heart. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth.

You pulled her even closer, feeling her warmth against you, a profound sense of peace washing over you. “I love you too, Chaeyoung,” you replied, voice low and filled with sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With a quiet sigh, Isa tucked herself into you, her hand resting over your heart as the two of you let the night wrap around you, safe in each other’s arms, both knowing that this love was everything you had ever needed.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #male reader #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #stayc #stayc smut #stayc isa #lee chaeyoung #isa smut #stayc isa smut #isa x reader

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stxrslut · 2 days ago

Text

SUGARY SWEET ⋆.𐙚˚

summary; you’re so desperate to try cocaine, you see rafe with it all the time, you don’t understand why he doesn’t let you have it considering he loves it so much. little do you know, the sucker cares, and he doesn’t want to corrupt your sweet little mind

content; dealer!rafe(?), drunk reader, placebo effect

rafe is at the back of the party like always, doing his usual dealings with the coke that he gets from barry, a simple side hustle to get some extra money his dad doesn’t need to know about.

he’s not entirely sure where you are, though he has a pretty good idea that you’re out on the floor, dancing around and drinking far too much alcohol for your body to handle. he hopes it stays that way too, he knows that it will be difficult the moment you come back to see him.

you had been nagging him recently, nagging him because you wanted to try coke. he’d said no of course, multiple times, over and over again. he knows you only want to try it because you see him doing it, and of course you can’t have any interest of your own, you need to do what he does all the time.

the last three parties you’d been to, you’d been on his back all night begging for him to just put one teeny tiny line on your gums. he didn’t want to though. you see, as irresponsible and psycho-crazy as rafe is, he knows how innocent you are. he knows you haven’t been touched by the world and he doesn’t want to be the one to bring you into the cold hard reality where things hurt. that means no hard drugs for you.

when packing for the party, he'd prepared a little something to sate the inevitably drunk you that will come bouncing over at some point, desperate to become more intoxicated. just a little placebo that he hopes will slip past your notice.

it’s just past midnight when it comes to the point where he decides to use it.

you’re completely off your face as you hobble down to the back of the room where rafe is located on one of the couches, doing his dealings of course. “rafeeee,” you giggle, falling down to conveniently land in his lap. “hii,” you speak in drunken affection, bringing a pointy nailed finger up to touch his nose.

“hi baby,” he murmurs, not paying a lot of attention to you as he multitasks the conversation with counting a stack of bills that somebody had handed him. “you okay?” he asks absently.

“mmh… I’m okay… want somethin’ though.” you smile, another giggle bubbling up your throat, “want you to give me a lineee,” you singsong the obvious statement that rafe was expecting.

he chuckles, “yeah? still hung up on that huh..” he shakes his head in small amusement at your absolute persistence on trying the drug, more lighthearted about it now that he knows he has a solution. “well I got something for you.”

he places the stack of bills down, making sure to mark his place in counting before digging into a bag beside him and pulling out a small ziplock baggy filled with white powder. your eyes widen, “is that it,” you say in excitement.

rafe nods, “yes it is baby.” no it isn’t, it’s actually powdered sugar, pinched from your own stock that you keep for baking sweet treats. but you don’t have to know that, in fact he’s counting on the fact that you don’t notice in your extremely drunken state.

“ooh!” you clap your hands, “thank youuu rafe I’m so excited!” you watch as he clicks the bag open and gathers some of the substance on his thumb. then he brings it up towards you.

“you’ll want it on your gums,” he tells you, which is true, you think that snorting it would be barbaric. “open your mouth.” he orders gently.

you do as you’re told, parting your lips and letting him put his thumb into your mouth so that he can smear the powder onto your gums.

it’s sweeter than you expect, way sweeter, almost like sugar. you say as much, “sweet,” you remark in surprise, though you don’t catch onto the ruse one bit, in fact, you think you may be beginning to feel the buzz.

rafe smiles at you and nods, “like sugar, special batch just for you baby.” oh well, you feel flattered. your boyfriend loves you so much that he got a whole special batch for you.

“oh rafe!” you giggle, “you shouldn’t haveee,” you’re so happy, the music seems so much louder oh, the dance floor is calling you. “I’m so happyyy,” you smile, “I love this song!”

rafe’s plan has been very much successful. you are entirely convinced that you are currently riding the wave of intoxication that a line of cocaine provides. he chuckles, “yeah? you love this song? why don’t you go dance?” he suggests, immediately catching your agreement.

“oh yeah. yeah!” you bounce off of his lap, standing up with a newfound bout of energy. “I love you rafe,” you begin to walk off, “thankyou so much!” you shout finally while in far too close proximity to him.

he shakes his head in amusement before going back to his work. he never thought he’d pick a girl like you, a girl so innocent and so sheltered. but god he loves you, and he wants to keep you exactly the way you are.

#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron outer banks

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beardedjoel · 1 day ago

Note

omg! could you do 13 please? either for young joel (tho ik you don’t right much for him) or closer joel or neither lol but 13 sounds so romantic omggg

thank you so much for the request! i decided to do it for closer joel and i had fun getting back into his headspace. i was feeling a little rusty after all this time 😆 i imagined this is their first getaway together the following winter after they started dating. i tried to balance sexy and romantic, since you said it sounds romantic, which it totally does!

snowed in — joel x f!reader

request: "being snowed in together and fucking in front of the fireplace". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! can be read as a standalone or with closer joel in mind.

wc: 2.5k words.

warnings: smut (pussy eating + piv), dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, soft dom! joel.

You chew your lip for the umpteenth time, staring out into the layers upon layers of frosty white blanketing the outside. Your own reflection stares back at you in the oversized picture window as you squint past it into the dark, watching fat snowflakes flurrying by.

“Starin’ ain’t gonna make it go away any faster, angel,” a deep voice rumbles in your ear. Joel slides his arm around your waist as he presses up against your back. It does wonders to ease your growing anxiety, and when he places a full glass of wine into your hand, you feel it nearly dissipate.

“But what about the rental? What if we can’t get out when we need to check out in a few days?” you ask, that little anxious squeak in your voice grating on your ears. You silently apologize to Joel, even though he’s heard it plenty of times before when your anxiety rears its ugly head.

“Already talked to the owner. She says it happens sometimes, it’s no big deal. Risk comes with the territory, I guess.” It makes sense, the cabin being way up in the mountains, and it truly was the romantic and peaceful getaway with your boyfriend you’d hoped for before the looming anxiety set in of being trapped by the snow.

“Now, can we enjoy our first time goin’ away together, or do you need more convincin’?” You knew that Joel’s version of convincing might involve the plush bed you’d seen in the loft upstairs and your favorite satin restraints packed away in your suitcase, so you keep it in the back of your mind.

You feel a small smile creep onto your lips, the two of you still facing the window together as you take a large sip from the glass of wine. “It is kind of pretty when you’re not outside in it. Peaceful…” you concede, trying to shake it off. The forecast had shown that tonight was the worst of it, so you might as well try to relax and enjoy this rare evening of complete solitude with Joel.

“Attagirl,” Joel murmurs, planting a kiss on your head. You shudder at the contact, suddenly overly aware of everywhere that his body touches yours. Joel notices - of course he notices - and presses closer, hugging you tight. “I got a fire goin’ in the other room, and more where this came from,” he tells you, tapping a finger to your glass. “So c’mon.”

You follow him wordlessly, his hand enveloping yours, and all is right in the world again. One thing you’ve learned with Joel is that if he isn’t worried about something, then you definitely don’t need to be. Half a bottle of wine later, lounged on the floor in front of the fireplace, you smile dazedly at Joel, who is walking back into the room after heating up a frozen pizza you two had gotten when you stocked up at the grocery store in town. You’d spent the last hour cuddled up on the couch, music playing softly through the speakers as you two reminisced about the last six months together and what was beyond. You couldn’t believe that finally after all this time, Joel had managed to get time away from his company to treat the two of you to the romantic getaway he'd been promising. It was already shaping up to be everything you’d imagined and more.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the pizza, your stomach craving something to soak up the alcohol, and when the smell hits you, you’re a goner. “Shit, Joel, that smells incredible,” you say, sitting up. He sets the pizza on a nearby coffee table, putting a hand up for you to stop.

“Nuh-uh. Back down. You looked prettier than a picture like you were.” Joel’s eyes rake over you as you pause for a beat before laying back again, pulling your lip between your teeth in a shy yet mischievous smile, one you know drives him crazy. Your outfit leaves little to be desired - a fuzzy, comfortable shorts and tank top set, and with the way you’re sprawled out, you know your tits are probably spilling out the top.

Joel stands above you, and your heart races at the imposing figure of him, the mystery of what he’ll choose to do to you next. Joel has always liked to take the reins, and you’ve always been happy to let him. He toes your legs further apart, moving them until you’re spread wide for him. You tease him, snapping them back shut immediately, eyes sparkling devilishly up at him.

“No, no, sweet girl,” Joel says, shaking his head. He grins coyly, sinking down to your level and pressing your legs all the way open, knees to the plush carpet beneath you. “Unless you didn’t want me to fuck you senseless… have you drippin… ” he drawls, watching you squirm, your gaze darkening with need. “...takin’ my cock ‘till you’re makin’ all those pretty sounds I like…”

One of said pretty sounds slips right past your lips without any thought, a small whimper as you glance down to where Joel kneels between your legs. Damn him for using his mouth so well before it’s even on you.

“N-no, I do, I do,” you blurt out breathlessly, eyes flicking to where he’s tenting in his sweatpants. He grins.

“Y’always make it too easy for me, baby.” His fingers hook into both your shorts and underwear, pulling them off and tossing them to the side. “So wet already, angel…” he muses, slipping his fingers through your folds, making your hips buck at the sensation. You want more, you need more. The stress of the day had a way of making you more needy, more desperate for a release, and you knew you’d find it right between Joel’s legs. “What was it you were thinkin’ about that got you so messy for me already, sweetheart?”

“N-nothing, just…”

He kisses your thigh on each side, letting his fingers continue to wander through your slick folds before asking, “Just what?”

You breathe out slowly, trying to contain yourself as he prods at your entrance, dipping a knuckle inside. “The restraints. I - I thought about you tying me up to the bed upstairs.”

Joel tilts his head, smiling. “I’m sure we can manage that. We got a long weekend ahead of us,” he coos, pulling his finger out, making you immediately miss even the tiniest bit of fullness from it. When he brings it to his lips, savoring your taste, it makes you feel feral.

“Need you, Joel…” you whine, watching him sink his head between your thighs. “N-no, your cock,” you say, watching him light up, smirking as he stares up at you, his face only inches from your bare pussy.

“What, and skip all the fun of hearin’ you beg me, beautiful girl?” He huffs out a chuckle, the air breezing over your swollen, sensitive cunt, making your hips twitch. That only seems to satisfy him more, now burying himself between your legs, his tongue quickly working in flicks over your clit. You gasp, pressing your hips into his face, unable to stop yourself from grinding down into his tongue. You’re already close - the wine running through your veins and relaxing you, the romantic setting giving you a head start on arousal the entire day, and the fact that your sexy boyfriend was so eager to be between your legs was a lethal combination.

“Fuck. Please, Joel,” you beg him, your pussy fluttering, feeling devastatingly empty. “I’m - I’m gonna - Joel!” Your climax crashes into you, sneaking up quickly and coming on strong, making your hips buck and shake as Joel laps at your cunt all the way through, until you’re trembling and limp again.

His entire body smoothly glides upwards until he’s on top of you, his nose pressed against yours as he goes in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His beard is wet with your arousal, and the sight of him - one you have seen your fair share of -manages to take your breath away. The flickering light of the fire reflects in his dark eyes, his hair messy and his smile lopsided and boyish, yet sexy at the same time.

It slowly drops into a more serious expression, one hand coming to curl your hair behind your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. You feel your cheeks grow hot under his attention and genuine compliment, even if you have lost count on the number of times Joel has said those exact words to you. A heart clenching, sentimental feeling grips you, making you feel like the luckiest girl alive to be here with him.

You reach up to touch his cheek, the air suddenly charged with something deeper, more romantic. It’s a tender kiss, one that turns heated quickly, but it’s full of reverence for the other, for the history you share together. A warmth grows inside of you, moving towards a fever pitch of need as you wrap your legs around Joel’s waist.

“Joel,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses your cheek, then your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, soaking up your desperation for him. “Please…”

He chuckles into your neck. “Drivin’ me crazy, angel. Makin’ the prettiest little sounds, bein’ such a good, patient girl for me.” When he grinds his hard cock against your center, you feel every ounce of patience you had completely vanish into thin air. All you can think about is getting closer, of feeling full of the man you love, letting him work your body in the way only he knows how to do.

“You need it, sweet girl?” he asks cruelly as your hands grasp at the waistband of his sweats, and you nod furiously, panting.

“I’ll do anything, j-just… Need you to fuck me.”

You know for as vocal as Joel is, he likes to hear you too, and your desperation sets him off. His cock is out the next second and your legs, already wrapped around him, draw him in deeper. When he pushes in, every inch right from the get go, you both look into each other’s eyes as you gasp and hiss through your teeth at the pleasure.

“Never get tired of this,” Joel mumbles, quickly finding himself a rhythm, each movement guided by your legs matching his thrusts, hips bucking upwards to pull him deeper. “Already squeezin’ my cock so tight, babygirl, you gonna come already?”

You can only whine out a moan, nodding for him. You really were insanely close to coming again, Joel doing all the right things with his cock as his fingers skim over your skin, pushing up your tank top. He squeezes one of your tits as soon as they’re free of the fabric, and when his finger brushes over the stiff peak of your nipple, your eyes roll back.

“M-my god… f-fuck…”

“So cock hungry, angel, so needy,” Joel grits out, pistoning his hips a little faster and sloppier, caught up in the moment. He groans when the change in pace makes lewd, squelching sounds ring out through the room. "So wet..." he mumbles, his eyes closing as he basks in his pleasure.

“Y-yes, fuck Joel, you feel so - so good.” Your back arches slightly, legs tense and trembling around him, the heat flickering in your belly now a roaring fire, pulsing through you. Right on the edge, so close to jumping off into that bliss, you cry out. “Don’t stop! Fuck - don’t stop!”

Joel, not missing a beat, hauls your legs from around his waist, placing your ankles on his shoulders, folding you inwards. He then pounds his hips quickly as he grabs onto yours, fingers digging into your flesh with a satisfying pain.

“You want to not be able to walk the rest of the weekend? Th-that it, baby? Want me to make it so you can’t do anythin’ but lay here and let me fuck you for days?” Joel huffs out, and you let out a strangled cry, your hands clawing at his thighs, trying to find purchase on something as you feel yourself about to lose control.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you scream as Joel thrusts into you harshly at a pace that boggles your mind even after seeing everything this man was capable of in the bedroom. Your release sweeps you away, your vision turning to a blinding white bliss as your eyes squeeze shut and your hips lift off the ground, your entire body spasming. Joel is relentless, making sure to squeeze every last bit of pleasure as you moan so loud you’re surprised the roof hasn’t caved in.

You nearly sob as the tight grip of your climax suddenly lets go, your body completely drained. Joel quickly pulls out, his movements clunky and frenzied as he flips your limp body like you’re a doll. “Hands and knees, baby,” he commands.

You make a small noise of protest, your eyes heavy and limbs shaky. “I know. You gonna be a good girl and trust me to do what’s best for you?” You finally nod, holding yourself up by the elbows, your ass popped high up in the air for him. “That’s it,” Joel says smugly before plunging himself back into your sensitive cunt in one swift motion. You squeak out a sound as your pussy pulses around him, the lingering pleasure from your last high already flourishing into something new.

“One more,” Joel says, leaning a little closer, his hand skating up and down your spine as he pumps into you, landing his hand on the back of your neck.

“C-can’t…” you whimper weakly, but Joel squeezes your neck slightest bit.

“You can. I know y’can. You’re doin’ so good, angel.” He reaches around to your swollen clit, rubbing circles that make you keen and pop your ass out further, getting him deep at this angle. You feel him hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you that makes you dizzy, makes you crazy every single time. Nearly crying at the oversensitivity, Joel somehow starts pulling another orgasm out of you, your moans quieter this time as your body shakes. You hear Joel’s pleased sounds, gruff little noises that tell you he’s close too as he praises you through your high.

“Oh, so good, pretty girl, s-so good…” he strains out, slamming his hips into yours once more, coming hard with a groan. He pulses inside of you and you keep your ass pressed back onto his hips, taking every bit of him. Feeling him like this is always such a rush, that tiny bit of power you get to take from Joel, making him fall apart for you even if just for a moment.

You collapse to the floor, giggling tiredly as your body gives out on you. Joel sidles up next to you, laying to face you with his head propped up on his hand, rubbing lazy circles on your skin. “Told ya you could do it,” he says smugly.

“Ass,” you say breathlessly, laughing as you roll over to your back, clutching at your stomach. “I’m starving. Now can we have some pizza?”

“Knock yourself out,” Joel replies, watching you crawl to the coffee table, not even seeming to care about the mess dripping out of you and down your thighs - food was your primary mission right now. It makes Joel feel his dick twitch all over again as he tucks it away, knowing he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you for long. “Wanted to work up an appetite for ya.” You shoot him a playful glare from where you kneel at the coffee table, ravenously biting into a slice, then making a face.

“Cold pizza it is, then.”

#julie's 5k celebration #julie's 5k celebration fic #fic: closer #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader

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phantom-0-writer · 1 day ago

Text

Tim stepped cleanly inside the room, and carefully shut the door behind him after checking if anyone was in the hallway. “What are you-” Danny started confused. Tim was acting very unusually right now.

“I’m Red Robin.” He said.

Danny stared at him for a few seconds. Tim had expected him to be more shocked, Danny wasn’t like Damian and Bruce in the aspect of holding back his reactions. He watched Danny carefully and noticed that he wasn’t even surprised at all.

His shoulder shifted a little, and a look passed in his eyes. He was relieved. That didn’t make any sense unless, “You knew.”

It made an irrevocable amount of sense. The stupid excuses he didn’t question, the easy slide bys on things that didn’t add up. Tim had wondered why Danny never brought it up with any of them. He was always quick to call bullshit on things but conveniently never on their mission cover ups.

“Yeah.” He admitted quietly, findling with the small screwdriver in his hand.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Tim asked. He felt a little ridiculous about it all now, “How long have you known?” Tim’s mind went back to the dining room argument from last night and he rolled through it in his head. “Wait, Jason knows you know, doesn’t he?” Tim blurted, “That why he- why didn’t I realize this sooner?”

“I mean I know you guys can’t just tell whoever you want. It’s a secret identity for a reason. You guys didn’t want me to know. So I acted like I didn’t.” Danny shrugged. “I figured it out when Dick and Bruce were in Amity, and yeah, Jason knows. He also knows I’m Phantom. Cass knows too- not the Phantom thing. Or maybe she does, I don't know.”

“You knew the whole time?” Tim balked. All the effort they put in to hide the proof before he came, and he knew the whole time. Wait, did he say- “You’re Phantom?” Tim practically yelled.

Danny blinked at him, “I thought you knew that.” He pointed the end of the screw driver at him, “Why were you guys so okay with him being in the cave then?”

“We thought he was Thomas Jr.” Tim threw his hands up, rethinking his entire career choice. “I mean, yeah he was in Amity with you, but we figured it was like a guardian ghost thing since the time Dick met him that one time when you got lost or something he was the one- holy shit, you were following them the whole time weren’t you.”

“You thought Thomas was Phantom?” Danny laughed, finding this ridiculous.

“Isn’t that how supernatural stuff works or something. Like, you guys are linked because you were switched with each other and because you were with the family he was supposed to be with so he turned into a protective spirit to, like, watch over you or something.”

Danny's look of appalment only deepened as Tim continued explaining. “Who told you that?”

“I mean we just kinda figured it out ourselves based on past experiences.”

“Past experience?”

“With supernatural stuff the right conclusion is always the most unexpected and slightly irrational one.”

Danny snorted at that. “That is a really bad rule of thumb.”

“Right, then explain how you’re the ghost Phantom when you’re also human and alive Danny.” Tim crossed his arms. He was trying really hard not to over analyze that right. Did that mean Danny was dead or that Phantom was alive? How could he be both? Well according to Schrödinger's theory- not now Tim. He should make a new file for this later and then he’d think about it. Alone. In his room where he could properly freak out over this.

“Touche.” Danny clearly thought this was funny so no need to put a damper on the mood. Especially after everything that already happened.

This information changed a lot of things. Tim would have to refer this back to the Fenton-Masters case. What about Damian? Did he know Danny was Phantom? Probably not, considering none of them had, apparently aside from Jason. It would be almost impossible for Tim to not tell him that since they were supposed to be working it together. Tim wasn’t sure how he would take the information. Not only that, but gave a new scope to the vultures that had attacked and the monster that had showed up from the pits.

Later. File. Many lists.

“Do you want to come to Mt. Justice?” Tim asked him.

“Like the museum?”

“Yes and no. It’s also the Young Justice base. It’s top secret and no ones supposed to know about it.”

“What! Then why are you telling me?”

“Do you wanna go or not?”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Definitely not.”

Danny raised a brow. “Then we can’t go?”

“It’s far but we can just take the jet. It’s like 30 minutes tops. We could take the zeta-tubes but then Bruce would find out you took the zeta-tubes and then we’d be fucked. Well, mostly me. But still.”

“Wouldn’t he find out we took the jet then?”

“He wouldn’t know you were on the jet. It’s not weird for me to be going there since it is my team.”

“What if we get in trouble?”

“We’ll only get in trouble if we get found out.” Tim shrugged, “Do you want to go or not?”

Danny considered it for a moment before a grin tipped his face. “Yeah.”

“Sweet.” Tim reached for his phone only not realizing he didn’t have it. “I’ll let them know we’ll be coming around. They’re all already there. Tell Alfred you’ll be going out with some friends and then come meet me at Drake Manor.”

Danny seemed to embrace the situation now, forgoing his earlier hesitance. “I’ll wrap up some stuff. I should do breakfast too so Alfred doesn’t think anything is up. I’ll give you a heads up before I’m out the door. I’ll take my bike.”

“Take the long way round since the Manor’s in the opposite direction of the city.”

Danny nodded. “What about you?” he asked.

“No one’s gonna ask if I go in costume.” Tim shrugged, “Speaking of costume…” Tim turned to where he knew the wardrobe to be, “Let me see your clothes.” He opened the double doors in the bathroom where the closest would be and blinked at the largely empty room. “Where are the rest of your clothes?” He asked. Danny looked confused by that, “Oh,” Tim realized, “You used a second closet. Smart. Is it in the lab?”

“No, Tim.” He said, pacing his words, “These are all my clothes.”

“Oh. Why?”

“This is a normal amount of clothes to own.”

“But it’s like barely covering a fourth of your closet. And that’s only because everything is so spread apart.”

“That's because the closest is the size of a literal barn. Why on Earth would I need that many clothes?”

“I thought Bruce gave you an allowance?”

“He did.”

“Is it not enough?”

Danny balked at him. “Did you ask to see my closet just to make fun of me?” He huffed.

“I’m not making fun, I’m concerned.” Tim said genuinely. Did Danny not feel comfortable asking for things? It must be because they were keeping so many secrets and he thought they didn’t trust him. This clearly ran deeper than Tim originally thought.

Danny shoved his hand in Tim’s face, pushing him back. “Can we get back to the point?”

“Right.”

--- later ---

“Give it back!”

“No, I had it first!

“Nu-uh. I just put it down for like two seconds when you grabbed it.”

“You were gone for the whole round.”

“Where’s the controller you had before?”

“It died.”

“There's a bunch of other ones in the drawer.”

“You can have one from there, then.”

“No! I want the one I had back.” Tim insisted.

“No.” Danny moved so he couldn’t reach it.

“That controller is player 1, so give it back.”

“Exactly why I’m not giving it back.”

“Why would you be player 1?”

Danny looked so smug at that, “If you recall, I’m actually older than you which gives me sovereign right over player 1.” He said pushing Tim away.

“That doesn’t even mean anything!”

“Ah, to be young and naive.”

“Fuck you.” Tim said, tackling him off the sofa.

“What on God’s green Earth is going on here?” Cass asked, returning from their small intermission for snacks.

Bart rushed up to join her. “Is Danny winning?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No you're not! Give it back.”

“Get off me.”

Kon was the last to come onto the site. “Guys.” He said seriously, “Superman’s coming. And there’s someone with him.”

Tim stopped trying to strangle Danny, sharing a look of panic with his team.

“So?” Danny asked, confused.

“Danny, you're not supposed to be here.” Tim hissed at him. “Shit. How do we hide you from Superman?”

“It was nice knowing you.” Kon said with a sarcastic smile.

“How far is he?” Cassie asked.

“He’ll be here in like two minutes.”

“I’ll hide under the couch, he probably won’t look under there.” Danny offered.

“He can hear your heartbeat.”

Danny smiled widely. “I got it covered.” He said, pulling himself into the small space.

Bart giggled in excitement.

“How-”

Kon gave a silent sign that Superman was here, sending a confused look towards the couch Danny had slid under. Tim’s phone buzzed with a notification.

Just then, “Konner?” Clark called from the Mission Room.

The team shared a silent look. They’d just have to trust Danny had this covered.

“We’re in here.” Bart called even though Clark would already know that.

Tim put up two fingers to silently ask Kon if there was someone else with him. He received an affirmative. This was a horrible day for prospective teammate introductions.

“Hey guys.” Clark smiled, then confused “Why are you sitting on the floor Red Robin?” He asked.

“I was checking something.” Tim said, picking up the controller Danny had been forced to abandon.

“Oh, okay.” He nodded, not questioning it further. “I’m glad all of you are already here.”

“Are we getting a mission?” Cassie asked.

“Sort of.” Clark said, excited. Then in Kryptonian, “ Come .” He said to someone behind him they couldn’t see. Tim couldn’t hear any footsteps. And he found out it was because the person Clark was introducing them to could fly. And Tim also found out that Clark had spoken in kryptonian because this new person was a kryptonian. One that Tim had never met before. “This is Kara. She’s my cousin. The entire situation isn’t all clear yet but as it stands we understand that her pod, while launched at the same time as mine, was caught in an asteroid belt and was only left free recently, when it landed near the Fortress of Solitude.” Clark turned to Kara and introduced them to her in Kryptonian and then added, “ Tim and Kon-el speak Kryptonian which is why I thought you would be more comfortable here instead of the Watch Tower. Though, Kon’s could use some work. ” He teased.

“Hey, my Kryptonian is fine.”

“Why don’t you try saying that in Kryptonian?”

“ My fine is Kryptonian .” Kon said confidently.

Clark laughed and Kara looked at Kon like he grew a second head.

“I don’t even speak Kryptonian and I could tell that didn’t sound right.” Cassie laughed.

Tim took his turn to introduce himself to the nervous and quite blonde. “ I’m Red Robin. ” He pointed to the symbol on his chest. “ It’s nice to meet you. ” He put out a hand for her to shake but Kara just stared at it. Maybe they don’t have hand shakes on Krypton. Since Clark had grown up on Earth he didn’t really know much about the customs of his home planet for them to have learned it beforehand.

“ Nice to meet you. I am Kara Zor-el, daughter of Captain Zor-El and the Lady Alura. ” Then she stuck out her hand like Tim had. When Tim took it to shake Kara seemed surprised by it.

“ You’ll be in good hands here, Kara. I’ll be back to check on you later but if you need anything Kon or any of the others can get a hold of me for you, okay ?” Clark said softly trying to gauge if she’d actually be okay here without him.

Kara started at Clark for a moment like she was processing what he’d said, “ Why will anyone need to hold you? ”

“Oh.” Clark pondered it, “ It’s an Earth phrase. It just means that they’ll send me a message or contact me if you feel like you want me to come back. ”

Kara took another pause to process and then, “ I see. ” And does a hand gesture that Tim didn’t understand. And neither did Clark. No one commented on it.

After Clark left the atmosphere of the room went stale. Danny was still under the couch and they weren’t sure how willing Kara would be to not tell Clark about it. But they couldn’t leave Kara. And Tim’s phone was buzzing with notifications that he did not want to check because he recognized the haptics of the health app he had. The one that had everyone, including Danny’s, vitals. Danny, who Tim was pretty sure had just stopped his heart for the entire duration of Clark being here. Which had been a very long duration.

Kara looked between them, confused. “ Is there something meant to be done? ”

“ How’s your english, Kara?” Tim asked.

“ Only a little . Kal-El said it will take time .”

“ Langage harding learn. ” Kon nodded. Kara lipped his words back to herself trying to make sense of it.

“What do we do about our stowaway?” Cass whispered to Tim. She didn’t speak Kryptnoian, but she understood enough to know what Tim had asked.

“I could dash him out. Maybe we could spend the day together at the mall and then we’ll be best friends and then he won’t want to hang with Tim anymore because he’d rather hang out with me because I’m so much more fun.” Bart said all in one breath, his words afterwards speeding up too fast for Tim to make any sense of.

“She’ll know something’s up. We need to test her loyalty.” Tim strategized while Kon attempted to keep Kara in conversation.

“How? And why haven't any of the supes been able to hear him yet?” Cassie asked.

Bart took a pause on his earlier ramblings to make Tim’s life more difficult. “Oh it’s because he’s not breathing. Isn’t that so cool.”

Cassie shot Tim an alarmed look. “He’s a meta.” Tim said off handedly, “Can we focus?”

“Are you aware that your brother might be suffocating to death? In fact, we may need to hide a corpse and I sure as hell would love to hear how you're going to explain that away at family dinner.”

“Oh, don’t worry Danny’s fine.” Bart said flippantly. “Danny, if you can hear us, make the room one degree colder.”

Tim couldn’t feel anything but Kon and Kara did. Kara eyed the room confused about the change but fortunately she didn’t comment on it.

“So cool.” Bart whistled, lapping the room.

“Convinced yet?” Tim asked Cassie.

“He’s an ice meta how- you know what, I don’t want to know. So how are we going to test our warden?”

The lounge room was decorated to look like a regular living room, including hanging “family pictures” on the wall. Everyone on the wall was in costume, for security reasons, but they were actual nice pictures of the team and their mentors. Tim pulled out a batarang from his pocket, and played around with it for a while, talking aloud about random things. It only needed to sound like a real sentence since Kara couldn’t understand what he was saying anyway. Then the batarang “slipped” out of his hand landing right in one of the larger framed pictures. The impact was loud and the glass of the frame shattered and spilled on the floor.

Cassie didn’t have to fake her flinch in surprise at that, turning to Tim alarmed. Tim adding to the performance acted shocked. Kara and Kon obviously hadn’t missed the commotion and their conversation stopped. Kara looked at the destruction of the frame, analyzing Tim and Cassie’s reaction.

“Dude.” Bart turned to him wide-eyed, stopping in his tracks, “We’re so dead.” Kara didn’t speak english, sure, but the dread in Bart’s voice was obvious enough.

“Why did you do that?” Cassie scolded, “That was Red Tornado's favorite.”

Tim held his head in his hands dramatically, then he let realization dawn on his features. Slowly he turned to face Kara. “ I’ll get in really big trouble if Kal-El or anyone finds out. I can hide it, but you won’t tell will you? ” He made himself sound really worried.

“ Won’t it be noticed? The image is large .” Kara asked. She was beginning to share their concern on her face, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she would keep her mouth shut about it.

“ Clean up can. ” Kon said in a reassuring tone. Kara looked at him sideways, clearly confused.

“ They don’t really come in here often so we can pass it off. But you can’t tell. ” Tim told her.

Kara looked like she was having a hard time understanding him as well. An easier time than with Kon for obvious reasons but still not an easy time. Tim couldn’t understand why since he had made sure their Kryptonian was in perfect condition. “ Pass it off? ” She echoed, confused.

Kara must not have understood the phrase.“ Pretend like it didn’t happen .” Tim explained.

She thought about it and nodded. “ An Earth phrase? ”

“ Yes. ”

Kara didn’t answer right away and Tim wasn’t sure if it was because she was still deciphering what he’d said or if she was thinking about telling. “ I will not tell Kal-El or his associates since no one was hurt and it was only a minor incident .” Cassie and Bart had already cleaned up most of the mess why Tim talked to Kara. Tim had made sure to hit the frame so only the glass would be shattered and the actual picture was mostly unharmed except for the small tear in the corner. That would be easy enough to cover up.

Kara's body language was stiff and she was watching everything very carefully. It wasn’t strange since she had been left with a group of strangers in a new environment and she didn’t speak the local language. She seemed around Tim’s age or maybe a little older. Kara was meant to land on Earth with a mission to watch and protect Clark. This implied that she was of a status and position to receive missions. This meant she would work by a set of rules and report to a supervisor. The supervisor was likely Clark who was most likely to take responsibility for her for a variety of reasons.

Cassie gave Tim a raised eyebrow to ask how it was going as she walked away to dispose of the glass shards.

It would be a gamble. A deadly one. But if Tim made it look like Danny being here wasn’t that big of a breach of the rules he could convince her to keep it to herself. He shared a look with Kon.

“ I’m really thankful, Kara. ” Tim says, smiling. He pulls out his phone and texts Cassie and Bart their half of the plan. “ We can show you around the rest of the base. Would you like to do that? ”

“ Okay .”

“ Room fun lounge after work. Play TV on games .” Kon said.

Kara stared at him.

“How about I do the talking?” Tim put a hand on Kon’s shoulder.

“Why? I’m doing so good.” Kon said genuinely. Tim doesn’t respond to that.

The tour lasted minutes and Tim made sure to bide their time well so Cassie, Bart and Danny could be fully settled in before they returned. It would take a while for Danny’s heart rate to return to normal, and it would be better that he was all there before they tried to pull this off.

Tim checked his phone when they were nearing the end of the tour. Cassie had texted him they were good on their end.

“ Let’s go back to meet the others. They don’t speak Kryptonian but we can translate for you so don’t worry. ” Tim said. Kara seemed nice, it was the circumstances that were a bit stressful. But that didn’t mean they should let her feel left out.

“ This is your team ?” Kara asked, following Tim back to the lounge room.

“ Yes we do missions together sometimes. When we’re not working we spend time at the base because we’re friends. ”

“ It is nice to have friends. ” Kara nodded.

“ Did you do missions with your friends on Krypton? ” Tim asked. Maybe he could gauge what her position had been to see how she would react.

“ Only practice. We did not graduate from training yet. ”

“ Going what’s there ?” Kon asked. Tim had no idea what he was saying.

“ What dialect does he speak? ” Kara asked Tim. “ I cannot understand it. ”

“ We learned the same Kryptonian, Kon just doesn’t practice. ” Tim laughed. Kon understood enough that he elbowed him. “ Are there dialects in Kryptonian? ”

“ Many. You and Kal-El speak very… proper. ” She said sheepishly. “ No one speaks that way where I am from. Only in important meetings with outsiders .” Then she paused sadly, “ Mother always said it was important to learn but I did not listen. ” Tim had figured Kara spoke so rigidly because she was nervous or shy. This explained why she was having such a hard time understanding them.

They reached the lounge to Cassie and Danny locked deeply in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Danny had pulled his hood back up and was wearing his cowl from earlier. He had picked one of the older models that covered most of his face until the end of his nose and past his cheekbones. Danny shot scissors at Cassie, beating her paper. Bart cheered loudly, throwing his hands in the air and Cassie groaned in defeat. Danny cackled as he took the last cookie.

“Hey, D. When’d you get here?” Tim asked for the sole purpose of silently telling the others to not call Danny by his real name.

With a mouth full of cookie, “A while ago. Who’s this?” He asked, gesturing his head to Kara.

Tim made wide gestures and spoke clearly in english so Kara could pick up what he was saying. It would be important for her to learn. “This is Kara, she’s Superboy’s cousin.”

“I thought she was his aunt?” Cassie asked.

Danny didn’t look nervous, fortunately, and smiled easily at Kara. Then to Tim’s surprise, “ Nice to meet you. ” he said in perfect kryptonian.

“ He speaks as well. ” Kara commented.

“You can speak Kryptonian, too?” Kon asked.

“Duh.” Bart answered.

“Dead languages are my speciality.” Danny said pointedly. Bart giggled at that.

“ Should we build a hole by playing a game? ” Danny asked, moving on the couch to give everyone else more room.

“ Build a hole? ” Tim laughed, “What?”

Kara looked at Danny surprised, “ You know of that? ” She asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

“It’s a phrase, basically like “break the ice’.” Danny answered, then for Bart and Cassie, “Do you guys know any games we can play?”

“ You speak very well .” Kara complimented excitedly, leaving Tim’s side to talk to Danny. “ Did you also learn? ” Meaning is he a native speaker.

“ Kind of? ” He laughed, “ You can speak more comfortably if you’d like. ” He gestures for her to sit.

Kara seems hesitant at first, but then she says something. It sounded Kryptonian but the accent was different to what Tim was used to and he could only make out some of it. To Kara’s delight and Tim’s further surprise Danny not only understood exactly what she’d said but even responded in the same way.

It takes a while for them to settle on a game to play given all the language barriers. Kara spoke in what Tim learned was Standard Kryptonian but would often switch to her local dialect when she didn’t know how to say things. Kon and Tim could only understand Standard, and in all honesty, between them Tim was the only one who could speak it. Bart and Cassie couldn’t speak at all.

They decided to play charades. It was awkward and hard at first, but they all got really into it by the third round. They kept the categories simple since Kara wouldn’t know any movies. Fortunately, she seemed to feel a lot more comfortable and talked a lot more, even if it was mostly just to Danny. There were times she would make an effort to say things in english. It was really broken but they all made sure to appreciate it and tried her best to understand.

“I’m hungry guys.” Cassie said after her turn to act out her word, plopping herself in her spot between Bart and Kon.

“Me too.” Bart agreed mournfully.

“You’re always hungry.”

“Should we order Pizza?” Tim asked, pulling out his phone.

“I want pineapples on mine!” Bart said.

“Ew. No.” Cass kicked him. “I’ll have my usual.” She told Tim.

“Like mushrooms and olives are any better.” Kon snickered.

“It’s better than pineapples.”

Kara looked between them curiously.

“Danny, ask Kara what she wants.” Tim instructed.

After hearing them talk for the last hour Tim had finally been able to pick on some of the words but the grammar of it still eluded him.

“ Everyone, something, something, food. ” Danny said.

Kara looked intrigued, “ What, something, eating, something. ”

“ Something, something, like, something. ” He paused thoughtfully, making a circle in the air presumably to explain what a pizza was. “Something… ” Then, he pulled Tim’s phone to face them and pointed to the picture of a pizza on the website. “ This .”

Kara looked hesitant, “ ...Some…thing? ”

Danny nodded encouragingly, “Something. Something, good.” He said.

Glancing back at the picture, Tim could see on her face that she’d made a decision but she didn’t say anything. “Okay.” She said in english with a nod. “Have.”

“Great!” Finishing it up, “Kon, Bart.” Tim signaled.

“Ugh. Why do we have to get it every time?” Kon complained, throwing a pillow at Tim.

“I’m not going because I was the one that paid for it.”

“I’m not going ‘casue I don’t want to.” Cassie said, kicking her foot onto the coffee table.

“But you were the one who said you wanted food.” Kon complained, already standing up.

“I could go.” Danny offered.

“You're funny. Absolutely not.” Tim shut down.

Kara looked at Danny curious, “ Saying, something, what? ”

“ Something, food, something, go. ”

In english, “...Kitch...en?” She pointed in the direction of it and spoke in Standard Kryptonian, “ Is it not there? ”

“ No. ” Tim shook his head, “ The store cooks it and we just have to give them money and take it from them .” He was careful not to throw in phrases she didn’t know.

Kara looked confused by the concept but accepted it.

“Wait until she finds out about Drive-Thrus.” Danny joked to Tim.

“I’m going to go check on the left-overs.” Cassie said heading to the kitchen.

Tim checked everyone's location on his phone. Danny’s was offline for obvious reasons, fortunately no one had freaked out about it yet. But he couldn’t be too sure. “I’m going to check on our smoke screen in the mission room.” Tim told Danny, “You’ll be okay here with her?”

“What if we get abducted by non-friendly aliens in the five minutes you’ll be gone?” Danny’s tone was serious but his face was mischief.

“I hope you do.” Tim scoffed, walking out.

---

“It’s just one slice, Red.” Danny tried to reach over his shoulder

“No.” Tim blocked his food with his body, “You have your own.”

“I just want to try!”

“No! Eat yours.”

“You let Kara have some!”

“That’s because I like Kara and I don’t like you.”

“But yours looks so much more better than mine.” Danny whined, still reaching.

“Lesson for next time then.”

“C’mon, you’re not even going to finish it.”

Everyone watched them like a sitcom while they got to enjoy their food without meddling siblings. “I will. Just so you can’t have any.” Tim shoved as much of the slice in his mouth as he physically could. He was actually already full.

“You're the worst.” Danny said, shoving Tim.

“And you're worse.” Tim countered, pushing him back.

Tim hadn’t pushed Danny very hard. Danny probably took harder hits during hockey practice. Tim had pushed him just hard enough that it forced Danny to take a step back to balance himself. Which was when he’d stepped on a wrapper Bart had left on the floor. Danny lost his balance and fell. But not before hitting his head hard on the metal fridge door behind him.

Cassie gasped in shock. Kon and Bart rushed over to check on him. Kara watched wide-eyed, not sure what to do.

Tim quickly stepped forward, “Hey, are you-” Next thing he knows there's a whole tube of ranch being squirted on his costume. His freshly washed costume.

Danny watches Tim’s face morph from concern to absolute disgust with a deep satisfaction and cackles like the villain he is.

“You are such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.” Danny’s on his feet and Tim chased him with a packet of garlic sauce that came with the pizza.

Apparently feeling left out, Bart decided to dump his glass of juice all over Kon’s head.

“Dude.” Kon shouts, but he’s quick to retaliate.

“Missed me.” Bart teases using the speed force to dodge.

Cassie and Kara, the only civilized people here, sit and eat their pizzas at the island watching them.

“They’re so dumb.” Cassie says to Kara, exasperated.

Kara smiles following the action with her eyes. “ How fun .” She replies and they share a laugh even without understanding each other.

snipbit from this fic

#dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #batpham #dpxdc fics #regular boy: daniel wayne #danny and tim #tim drake #young justice #red robin #kon el #kara danvers #yjxdp

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smileysuh · 21 hours ago

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siren's song

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “That’s the funny thing about trust, isn’t it, Pirate King?” you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnny’s eyes, and he’s blown away by your natural beauty. “You’ll only find out if the trust is solid, when you’re in a moment of need.” A moment of need… watching your lips right now, Johnny’s in a deep moment of need.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, wing kink, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, worship, pussy eating, slight roughness, size kink, Johnny has a massive cock, inklings of captain kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) Princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Pirate au, siren au, Captain!Johnny etc…

☀️ mlist + an. so I did a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon last month, and I'm a huge One Piece fan, and I wanted to tackle a pirate au :) I'm super pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you guys can appreciate this fantasy au too!

Prologue:

When Johnny had first become a pirate, he’d been taken under the wing of the most extraordinary man he’d ever known. The Pirate King had seen something in Johnny, who at that time was just a young man of thirteen. This King set out to teach Johnny everything he knew- and despite the fact that he was being groomed for the pirate crown, something in the back of Johnny’s mind felt as if the old King would ever die.

The two of them sailed for sixteen years, and Johnny watched his brave Captain and King cheat death more times than either of them could count or keep record of in their log book.

It feels unreal for Johnny now, as he sits next to his Captain’s bed, watching the most fearsome man he knows dwindle before his very eyes.

One good slice had been all it took to do him in, a slice, and a gruesome infection that followed, taKing a toll on the old pirate’s heart in a way Johnny could never have imagined possible.

“Before I die, there’s more I must tell you,” the Pirate King insists, reaching for Johnny’s wrist, which he holds in an iron grip despite his weakened state.

Johnny doesn’t have the heart to argue, he’ll hear his adopted father’s dying remarks if it’s the last thing he ever does.

“Confidence is key, my boy,” the Pirate King insists, a shiver running through him. There’s a sheen of sweat across his prominent brow, a sign of the fever that’s been killing him for days. He takes in a ragged breath before continuing. “The secret of the sirens is that they only prey-” he coughs, “only prey on pirates and sailors who have sins and baggage. This is a secret you too must pass down to your successor one day.”

Johnny’s not sure what to think as he grabs a cup of water to hold out to the old man, helping him drink. Sure, Johnny’s heard of sirens and mermaids, but he’s never actually seen any with his own two eyes. These must just be tall tales that his Captain’s exhausted mind is clenching at in the end- looking for something mythical to soothe him before he makes the leap into the great beyond.

“Regrets can’t have a place in your life, John,” the Pirate King continues, pushing the cup of water away and sending it clanging to the wooden floor of the ship. “You can’t be King if you feel regret, tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Johnny assures his Captain, reaching for the cup. There’s no use wiping the water up, afterall, the wooden decks of the ship are worn and speckled with the signs of years of use. It’s a ship that has been thoroughly loved, and Johnny is already considering the option of getting one of his own to note the start of his pirate reign.

“You don’t understand,” the Pirate King sighs, relaxing back against his pillows, “but that’s alright. You’ll understand soon enough.” He takes a haggard breath, and Johnny watches his old weathered hands clutch at his bedding. “There’s a rite of passage every new Pirate King must take. You’ll sail to the Forbidden Island Chain, the Selkie Islands, where you’ll find the sirens and mermaids from the old tales. You’ll have to prove yourself once you’re there, prove your lack of regrets. Only the one true Pirate King, who is confident in all of his doings, can withstand their deadly songs.”

One:

When the old Pirate King had first told Johnny of his task, he hadn’t quite believed it. However, after his passing, Doyoung, the scribe/navigator/book keeper had approached Johnny to tell him this was very much a real rite of passage, and that he’d been gifted with explicit coordinates as well as reading materials to use to complete the journey.

Johnny had been an avid reader growing up, and while he’d read the stories of mermaids and sirens with extreme interest as a lad, he’d thought of the contents as more fiction than fact. It’s interesting now, to be a man of twenty-nine, rereading the books of his youth with a newfound view of reality.

The islands they’re headed to are a no man’s land. For as long as recorded pirate lore can remember, the Selkie islands have been home to mermaids and sirens. While many don’t believe in these mythical beasts, pirates can be a superstitious lot, and any who have risked the voyage, haven’t returned to tell their story. It’s as they always say, dead men tell no tales.

Sure, sirens and mermaids have supposedly ventured away from the islands, looking for men and sailors to drown, but the reports of that have been few and far inbetween in these past years, especially since the British Royal Navy has made a larger foothold as far as pirateering is concerned.

In the last leg of their trip, Johnny calls his men to the deck of The Neo. “This is our maiden voyage,” Johnny calls above the familiar sound of the sea. “We’re a new crew, and I don’t expect to have full loyalty yet, despite my standing as the future Pirate King. Some of you must be wondering about our destination. I’m sure you’ve all heard the tales of mermaids and sirens- and for the safety of everyone, I want to make sure we go into this with a full arsenal, which means, we all must know our enemy.”

Johnny turns his attention to Doyoung, who steps forward carrying a few of Johnny’s top reading materials.

“There’s a difference between sirens and mermaids,” Johnny starts, picking the first book up, “they’re not the same thing, although, that’s been lost as common knowledge in the past years. Mermaids are the easy ones, half fish, half woman, and as alluring as anything we’ve ever seen. They will draw you to the water, whether that be the edge of the boat, or the edge of land, and when you’re close enough, they grab you and drown you.”

“Do they eat us or fuck us?” one person calls, and Johnny looks up to see Lee Donghyuck blinking up at him. “I just mean, I’ve heard both,” the youngest pirate says, defending himself as a chorus of agreed murmurs erupts through Johnny’s new crew.

“That’s a good question,” Johnny admits. “One that is undetermined, as no survivors have ever come back from being dragged under the sea, and all other opinions are just conjecture.”

“Pff, conjecture,” someone scoffs.

Johnny knows he’s a lot more well read than anyone on his crew. He spent many many voyages as a young man in the old Pirate King’s library. The Pirate King had always been grooming him for the top position, and there’s a certain amount of smarts that have to be shown in order to excel at the role. Johnny is no ordinary pirate, which is what sets him apart from all others.

“Sirens, on the other hand,” Johnny continues, “are said to have been ladies in waiting to Persephone, from the Greek myths. When she was snatched away by Hades, her mother, Demeter, gave her ladies in waiting wings to search for her. Sirens are angelic creatures, in beauty, and in voice. They lure not with good looks alone, but with songs that bewitch. If they can, they’ll steal your soul right from your own mouth.”

Johnny knows now that a siren’s power has to do with the regrets you hold, which is why he’s spend the past two months forgiving himself for any and all misdemeanors.

“In the ancient Greek texts, they tell of beeswax used in The Odyssey, shoved into ears to make you unable to hear the siren’s song, that’s what we’ll do now as we approach the final day of our journey.”

“What?” someone bellows.

“Doyoung will hand out the beeswax, and you will all hopefully be immune to death unless you decide to wander to the ship’s edge and give yourself to the sirens and mermaids.”

“What about you, Captain?” Mark Lee speaks up. God, he’s too soft to be a pirate at times, but Johnny had hand picked him for a reason. He’s more thoughtful than most- in fact, the whole crew was chosen for a variety of reasons, and Johnny wouldn’t sail with anyone else.

“Part of my trial is to face the siren’s song unprotected, to prove that I’m the one true Pirate King,” Johnny explains.

Doyoung has begun to hand out the beeswax, and one look at his unamused face tells Johnny that his faithful scribe doesn’t believe in this whole little farce. It’s more than likely that due to a lack of belief, numerous men will fall under the spell of a mermaid of siren, and that’s something Johnny had accepted before they set sail.

No, Johnny loves his crew already, but he’d be lying if he said they were anything other than exactly what they are: pirates.

Two:

There’s a flurry of commotion among the palace halls today, whispers of the death of the old Pirate King, and the rise of a new one.

This isn’t something that happens frequently, and you’re at an age where the arrival of a new Pirate King can impact you directly.

You’re a Siren Princess, and out of all of your sisters, you’re your fathers favourite. As you walk to the great hall, you’re aware that the likelihood is you’ll be chosen to sing a song to the new Pirate King, as your mother had before you.

The new ship is approaching with speed, and soon, you’re being whisked off by your ladies in waiting to get dressed the part. A silky white dress is strewn upon your form, hugging all the right curves, and accentuating all that your womanly body has to offer. The siren’s song is more than sung lyrics, it’s an entire performance, and the jewels that are set to adorn your form are part of it.

“He’s here!” one of your sisters declares as she barges into your room, a mischievous look on her face.

Everyone erupts into a fit of enthusiasm, and you’re ushered outside, where you join your father in the palace’s temple courtyard that looks down to the cove.

It’s true, there’s a large pirate ship just entering the bay, bearing the skull and crossbones symbol of pirates on it’s proudly waving flag.

Your wings waver at the notion of flight, and you lick your lips in preparation, feeling a flurry of excitement beginning to build within your breast.

“Be good, my sweet,” your father encourages you. “Test the man.”

“I will,” you promise, allowing him to squeeze your hand as one last sign of affection before you take flight.

This first contact with the new Pirate King is a solitary mission, and you feel naked as your large, strong wings carry you from the mountain top and toward the pirate vessel in the bay.

As you approach, your eagle eyes narrow in on a man waiting by the bow of the ship. He’s leaning on the rail, a grin on his face as he watches you draw near. He’s handsome, something you can’t deny as you hover just a few meters away.

He doesn’t look like a typical pirate. There’s no beard or missing eye. No, he has chiseled features, and a mischievous smile that almost threatens to take your breath away. His white tunic is open, and you sneak a glance at chiseled abs and skin that’s beautifully worn and tanned from years spent in the elements.

Despite his good looks, you have a job to do, and the man is patient as you begin your song.

You’ve been preparing for this for years, and The Sister’s Song you’ve practiced is one of loss and grief, however, there’s a haunting beauty to it too, one that even your own people find hard to resist.

You sing your heart out, watching the new Pirate King carefully.

He smiles at your song, however, he doesn’t flinch a muscle. When your words die off, he lifts his hands to clap, and with that, you know that he’s fit to be the next pirate ruler. He’s a man with no regrets, a man who lives by the beat of his own drum, and he’s earned your respect.

“That was a lovely song,” the man calls out to you.

“And what is your name, new would-be King?” you retort.

“I’m Captain John, but you can call me Johnny,” he grins. “And you?”

“I’m the Siren Princess, y/n.”

Johnny nods. “I know the past Pirate Kings have come for a song and left, however, I was hoping for more than a blessing today.”

“That’s presumptuous of you,” you note, feeling a smile work its way onto your face.

“Being presumptuous is part of being a King, I suppose,” Johnny muses. “I was hoping for a banquet. We’ve brought food and booze.”

“A banquet,” you repeat. Never before has a Pirate King dared come to your shores- this man is something different, and it intrigues you in a way you’ll never be able to express. “I accept. You can follow me to the water’s edge palace.”

“I do have one condition though.”

“And what is it that the new Pirate King suggests?” you enquire.

“Only that my men will be keeping their earplugs in. Many a pirate banquet have ended with blood in the water, but tonight, I’m hoping to be more civilized.”

“A civilized pirate,” you laugh. “That’s new.”

Three:

Johnny knows that he’s bringing his men deep into danger, but this is something that he feels will be an important stepping stone. While past Pirate Kings have had an understanding with the mermaids and sirens, none had fed the flames to keep the fire going. No, in contrast to his past predecessors, Johnny thinks it’s important to have a better connection with sirens and mermaids, perhaps even diplomatic relations.

Sure, it also helps that you’re absolutely stunning, and Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend more time with you- but his plans for a banquet had been set in stone before he’d laid his eyes on you, so Johnny has no regrets there.

As Johnny is taken to shore and shown into the waterside palace, the new King notes the way siren’s have different wings.

While yours are white an angelic, others have more fairy like protrusions, and Johnny would bet his life that your wings are a sign of royal blood. They’re certainly the most durable, the largest, and the strongest, that he’s able to see, and when any others appear with similar wings, you’re quick to introduce them as family.

“I’m interested to meet your father. You said you’re a Siren Princess, so your father must be King,” Johnny notes as he follows you through the palace. It’s old marble, and while parts of it are eroding, Johnny can’t help but marvel at the way the structure straddles the lines of nature. There are all sorts of growing greens, as well as harmony between both earth and water elements- with streams interweaving below white marbled bridges.

In these waterways, are mermaids, who look up at him with curiosity, their hair always falling just so- protecting their modesty, if creatures such as they even possess such a thing.

“He’ll come down from the mountain palace,” you tell Johnny. “You have to understand, no Pirate King has ever dared set foot here. This is not something we are accustomed to.”

“I can see that,” Johnny nods, turning to find Donghyuck leaning over the edge of the bridge, eyes locked with a particularly gorgeous mermaid, who’s creeping closer and closer from the stream below-

Johnny grabs the younger pirate by the scruff of the neck, tearing him away from a beautifully savage fate. He pushes Donghyuck towards Yuta, and the mermaids giggle. “Keep an eye on him,” Johnny warns the feral looking pirate. “And keep an eye on yourself while you’re at it.”

You smile at the interaction, and Johnny sighs.

“You think this is funny, do you?”

“Just a show that we don’t need to be heard to be alluring, mermaids never rely on their voices, so your beeswax will do little to ward them off.”

“I guess I thought my men had more control,” Johnny admits, falling into step with you and casting a glance at the crew that follows, “although, I guess at the end of the day, they’re just pirates.”

“And you’re not?” you counter.

“I’m a pirate, it’s true,” Johnny confesses. “But I think we both know, no Pirate King is ever just a pirate.”

“I will agree with you on that,” you nod. Although you’ve not met many pirates in your life, it’s clear that this one has a better head on his shoulders than most- in more than just the looks department. “The great hall is this way,” you continue, showing him through an archway that brings you to the outdoor meeting place.

It’s a true wonder of water and earth, a courtyard exposed to the night sky above. The moonlight illuminates the space, and littered throughout are pools with glassy water, mermaids perched like poised, picturesque, marble statues along their edges. Eyes that shine in the nightly gleam watch as you draw the Pirate King’s crew deeper into the lion’s den, beautiful predators, assessing every movement.

You hope this new Pirate King knows what he’s doing.

Four:

By all accounts, the feast is going well. Roaring fires are cooking multiple boar that Johnny had brought specifically for this trip, as well as fish and other provisions they’d packed. The sirens and mermaids had provided more of the perishable items, and even though there are wooden bowls of salad littered here and there, it’s clear that everyone has a preference for the meat.

The mermaids in particular are quite savage with the way they eat, grabbing leg straight by the bone and tearing in with teeth that hadn’t looked as sharp before as they do now.

Johnny is on alert, despite his attempts to exude a calm and happy countenance.

He feels as if he’s in a den of angelic looking demons, and he’s already caught numerous crewmates wandering just a little too close to the water’s edge. Hyuck in particular has been reared back by the scruff of his neck a grand total of five times, and Johnny’s beginning to think the young man simply has a death wish… that, or his brain resides in his cock.

From the way the mermaids giggle with each close call, it’s clear to Johnny that they’re testing him as the new Pirate King. They’re testing his trust in them, his wits, and Johnny’s not quite sure what to make of it.

“Pirate King,” your voice distracts Johnny from his internal musings, and he turns to you. “Come with me,” you bid him, standing and reaching out a hand. “I have something to give you.”

Your words draw not only Johnny’s attention, but the attention of those around him, and Yuta lets out a loud wolf whistle. It’s no shock that his crew would have filthy thoughts about why you’re whisking him away, but Johnny gets the suspicion that this interaction isn’t just about getting in his pants.

You’re a Princess after all, and so far, you’ve been nothing short of a gracious host. It’s clear that the two of you share alliance goals, and Johnny had watched you take your father to the side and passionately argue the importance of a connection between pirates and sirens.

“Watch Hyuck,” Johnny warns Jaehyun as he stands, allowing you to gently guide him by the hand away from the festivities.

Mermaids watch curiously as you lead Johnny over a number of small bridges, moving farther and farther from the main courtyard until you’re back at the edge of the sea. Johnny can hardly hear the sound of loud pirate laughter anymore, and he realizes how serene this new location is as he studies your winged form in the moonlight.

“I have two gifts for you,” you tell him, reaching into your dress. Johnny hadn’t realized the fine white material had included pockets, but then again, most of the night he’s been staring at your pretty face and your angelic wings. You pull out a conch shell, handing it to Johnny. “This one is to call for mermaids, and this one,” you place a halloweed reed style whistle next to the shell, “is to call on sirens. They’re in case you need help in battle, a way to contact us, to solidify an alliance of sorts, although- I warn you not to use the shell if you have any men in the water, mermaids are not the most discerning of saviours.”

Johnny looks down at the two items. At first, he doesn’t know what to say, and his voice cracks when he finally finds the words. “Thank you.” He swallows thickly. “I appreciate these, uh… tokens.”

You let out a giggle. “No need to be so formal, Pirate King.”

“Says the woman who just used the word discerning.”

“I’m more educated than you, pirate,” you grin.

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Princess.”

“Touche.”

Johnny enjoys this back and forth, it feels natural, and without the eyes of countless others on the two of you right now, the Pirate King feels comfortable to just be himself. “I guess, as much as I appreciate these gifts, I’m still wondering if I can trust you, if you’ll come when I call.”

“That’s the funny thing about trust, isn’t it, Pirate King?” you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnny’s eyes, and he’s blown away by your natural beauty. “You’ll only find out if the trust is solid, when you’re in a moment of need.”

A moment of need… watching your lips right now, Johnny’s in a deep moment of need.

From the way your own gaze dips down, Johnny’s sure you reciprocate the attraction, and with one final ‘fuck it’ that he sends to the wind, Johnny cups the back of your neck with his large palm. He draws your mouth to his, kissing you gently on the edge of the sea as the moonlight bathes you both in light. The winds carry the smell of salt, a constant reminder of Johnny’s true commitments.

He’s a man with no regrets, a Pirate King, and nothing could ever make Johnny regret this shared kiss, this shared confirmation of a newly blossomed union between pirates, mermaids and sirens.

Five:

It’s been a full year since the Pirate King arrived at the Selkie Islands, a full year without hearing a whistle or the blow of a conch, and in that time, you’ve begun to worry about him.

Sure, he’d been strong, and tall, and handsome- but in your opinion, he’d lacked the savagery that had been so clearly evident in those who had come before him, not to mention excessive facial hair, bad teeth and body odor.

You’ve done your best to distract yourself with your studies, as education is important for a Princess such as yourself, and you’re in your library one afternoon when your ears pick up that distant call.

The reed you’d given the Pirate King is a magic reed, and it’s fine tuned to your ears. You’re able to hear it from a vast distance, and with your natural bird like homing abilities, there’s no way you’d miss Johnny’s location.

It’s been a year, but finally, you’re being summoned.

You’re quick to rally a small force of sirens to go with you, your Princess’ guard, which consists of your best female fighters with the strongest wings for flight. Despite your father being the King of the sirens, that’s only in the stead of your mother, who had died of an illness many moons ago. The sirens, as well as the mermaids, are naturally maternalistic societies, and when you need something done right, you send a band of females.

The journey is a long one, but with your wings, you’re able to cover vast distances. You make it to Johnny’s pirate ship and the cove it’s anchored in just as the evening sun is setting. The Neo is still alive and well, and there are hardly any new marks on it, something that reassures you as you and your small band of sirens touch down on the deck.

Pirates watch you, and your eyes find Johnny as he steps down the stairs from the helm to greet you.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits, stopping just at the bottom step to assess you with a half grin on his face, his Captain’s hat tilted just so.

“Travel takes time, as I’m sure you know,” you retort. “What’s the emergency?”

“I’d like to speak to you, privately.”

With a nod to your companions, you follow Johnny into the Captain’s quarters, curious as to what this call is about if not an attack.

“On the island, we hold pirate council,” Johnny explains. “Seeing as you’re my new ally, I’d like for you to speak, as a Princess, as the head of the sirens- and I’d like you to have a say for the mermaids as well, although, I can call upon the mermaids too if you’d rather they have their own representative.”

“Pirate council?” you ask in shock. “I wasn’t aware pirates were so democratic.”

“I am King of something, Princess,” Johnny grins.

“I suppose that’s true,” you smile back at him slyly. “I can speak for the sirens, and the mermaids, at this council at least. When I return to the Selkie Islands, I can discuss a mermaid representative for further collaborative efforts.”

Johnny nods. “Works for me.”

“So when is this council, exactly?”

“We were waiting for you.”

Within minutes, you’re following Johnny into the largest beached pirate ship vessel you’ve ever seen. Despite it’s outside appearance, the inside is remarkably well kept- and you suppose it’s worn down exterior acts as a camouflage of sorts for the importance of what takes place inside this aged wooden skeleton of the sea.

You feel very important as you walk with Johnny, and he pays you the respect of holding you at his arm, making you equals as you enter the large council chamber.

Whispers erupt at the sight of you, and you suppose many of the pirates present have never seen a siren in the flesh.

“I told them I’d be bringing you,” Johnny whispers in your ear as he takes you to the head of the table, pulling out the seat at his right hand for you to sit in. As you get settled, he leans close, his lips just brushing your ear. “You could ensnare the souls of every person in this room if you so much as breathed a note of your siren song, don’t be scared, and speak from your heart.”

You’d always thought of yourself as a confident Princess, but walking into this pirate’s den had shaken your foundations. Hearing Johnny’s praise of you, the facts that he’s pointed out- it helps you calm down, your shoulders falling, body relaxing.

“Today, this pirate council has been drawn, because we need to discuss the increasing threat in our waters,” Johnny’s clear Kingly voice rings out through the room. “The British Royal Navy. they’ve been imposing their laws, sinking ships, taking prisoners, and killing every man, woman, or child who has ever had anything to do with the likes of us.”

This is all news to you. You’ve heard whispers of a new type of sailor in these seas, of more regimented water crafts- but your kind generally sticks to your own islands these days, you’d had no clue that this ‘British Royal Navy’ had become such an imposing force.

You listen as Johnny continues his speech, and then he opens up the floor for other pirates to speak.

It’s a heated debate, a debate of which you’re not necessarily inclined to be a part of. There’s talk of attacking ports, jail breaking prisoners-

It’s clear to you that although they view themselves as somewhat democratic for throwing a council such as this, that many of the pirates who are here to represent their crew and fleat, are very much in it only for themselves.

It’s also evident that Johnny takes his role as Pirate King extremely seriously, and you find yourself most and more enraptured as you watch him take control and keep things peaceful. Not only does he understand what others are saying, but often, he’s able to reword concerns so that others can understand as well. He’s like a Pirate King translator, and it’s a very attractive quality.

There’s a bit of infighting between two rough looking bearded men, and when Johnny breaks it up, he sighs, turning to you. “Do you have any opinions, Princess?”

“I’d like to spend the night thinking on it. I’ve taken in a lot of information, and I’m tired from my travel.”

“That’s a good point,” Johnny nods. “I think we should all take the night to think things though and consider other perspectives, we can reconvene in the morning.”

The Pirate King stands up, not giving any time for protest, and as you rise to join him, you take a survey of the room. You can see the respect that the others have for him, and everyone stays in their seat as Johnny takes your arm and leads you back outside.

The two of you are quiet as you return to his ship. It’s clear there’s a lot on both of your minds, and you kind of enjoy the peaceful quiet that blossoms with the strong man at your side.

“Well,” Johnny says finally, “I’ll give you and your companions my cabin, and I’ll find somewhere to sleep below deck.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “I’m going to send my companions home, it’s clear they’re not needed here tonight, and after our council meeting tomorrow, I’ll return to the Selkie Islands as well.”

“Almost sounds like you trust me to be on my best behaviour, Princess,” Johnny grins.

“As you said before, one note of song from my lips and your entire crew could be under my spell. I have nothing to fear.”

“Not even from me?” he toys.

“Not even from the Pirate King himself.”

“Well,” Johnny licks his lips, taking in your form, “I’ll let you say your goodbyes, and then you can meet me in my quarters.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“That’s King to you, Princess.”

You can only scoff, turning and leaving the Captain to join your ladies on the deck of the ship. You fill them in on the council meeting, and although two of them are reluctant to leave your side, you reassure them that you’ll be okay. This new strengthening of the alliance with the pirates is founded on trust, and if anything happens, the sirens alone could take out the entire pirate fleet sans Captain John himself, who’s impervious to your songs.

Soon, you’re the lone winged creature on the deck of the ship, and you can feel eyes on you as you make your way to Johnny’s Captain’s quarters.

You’d been in here earlier when Johnny had taken you aside for a private chat, but you hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate his home.

While there are wooden accents everywhere, it’s a very lavish quarters. There are lots of red velvet- royal colours that draw your eyes. It’s a masculine space, but the full walled library betrays the erudite mind of the new Pirate King. A large table is littered with maps, and it’s clear that’s where Johnny does most of his work, however, tucked into a wall pocket by his books, is a massive bed, with the same scarlety fabric drapes to make the sleeping section more private and cozy.

Johnny’s standing by the windows that look out the back of the ship, and while the candle flames lick light at the walls, it’s the reflection of the moon that truly illuminates the space.

“And so all the pretty birds fly home for the night,” he says, watching your companions disappear into the inky sky.

“All but one,” you muse, locking the door behind you.

“And the prettiest one at that.” Johnny turns to you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to find somewhere else to sleep tonight?”

“I’ve been thinking about our last meeting for a year, Captain, I think it would be a disservice to both of us to not indulge further, after all, we’ve been good and patient, haven’t we?”

“Too patient, even for a Pirate King,” Johnny groans, moving closer.

“Even for a Princess,” you agree, wetting your lips as you stay still, allowing Johnny to be the one to close the gap.

Like that night by the water’s edge, Johnny doesn’t ask permission, you can tell that he reads your need for him as easily as he had a year ago. His large hand cups your cheek, drawing your lips to his own, and it’s such a familiar feeling-

Something about him just feels right. It feels natural. As if you’ve done this a hundred times before, even though this is only really your second kiss with the young Pirate King.

Regardless, you allow yourself to get lost in him. Your hands begin to explore him as if by muscle memory, and you push at his long dark jacket, exposing the white unbuttoned tunic below. Fucking pirates and their fashion sense- he’s too much of a slut in this fucking shirt, it’s making you feral.

“Someone is eager,” Johnny muses, breaking the kiss to look down at you with a grin.

“Someone is dressed like a whore,” you retort, flicking his hat off his head with one sharp movement.

The Pirate King lets out a whistle. “Wow, Princess, didn’t expect to hear words like that coming out of such a pretty little mouth.”

“Maybe being around you has some of your piracy rubbing off on me,” you suggest, hooking your finger in his gun holster belt to tug him closer.

“Princess, if I’d rubbed one off on you, you’d know it.”

You can only scoff, and Johnny’s smile widens. He tugs you closer, looking down at you with dark eyes that have suddenly turned serious.

“I’ve got a question for you, Princess.”

“Yeah, and what’s that, Captain?”

“I was just thinking…” he looks past you, and your wings twitch under his inspecting gaze, “are they as sensitive as they look?”

You breathe in a harsh gasp, a shiver running through you at the thought.

Johnny grins again. “I’m going to take that as a yes.��

Siren wings are extremely sensitive, especially ones like yours.

“They’re just… so pretty,” Johnny continues, reaching out. “You’ll let me touch, right?”

“You can touch,” you whisper, watching him while frozen in place. All your bravado and confidence are gone, and although you’re the siren, it feels as if the Pirate King has put you under a spell of his own now.

He’s ever so gentle as he brushes his fingers against your wing, looking down at you to watch for a reaction.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, and you can tell from the way Johnny grabs your hip with his other hand, that he enjoys the effect this is having on you.

He traces down your wing to the base, where your human skin becomes feathers, and he toys that spot with a circular motion. It feels so good- you have to bite your tongue to stifle a moan.

“It’s okay, Princess, let it out, I wanna hear you,” Johnny encourages.

“You might, but what about your crew?” you ask, looking at the door just a few meters away. If you moan- even if it’s a moan and not a purposeful siren song - it could still bewitch anyone close enough to hear it, and you’d hate to lose composure, damaging your alliance, because you’re too horny to keep it in your pants and in your mouth.

“That’s a good point,” Johnny concedes. In one motion, he’s lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips as he carries you toward the bed nook. He gently puts you down, carefully of just flopping you onto the mattress and damaging a wing, then, he draws the curtains closed, clearly hoping to muffle any sounds that come out of you. “Now… where were we?”

“I think you were about to get me naked and eat me the way you ate that fucking wild boar last year.”

“I was trying to be somewhat clean that night, you know,” Johnny laughs.

“I don’t mind messy, in fact, part of me might prefer it.”

“Are you sure you’re a Princess?” Johnny asks, kissing up your calf as you adjust against the pillows, making sure your wings are in an alright position for him to eat you out.

“I’m as much of a Princess as you are a King,” you point out.

Despite you both having titles, it’s clear there’s more to you than your respective stations in life. Sure, the fact that he’s a Pirate King and you’re a Siren Princess is making this whole interaction possible, but there’s a desire to know him on a deeper level- and it’s one of the reasons you’re reluctant to refer to him as King. You’d rather see him as a Captain, a leader of men in that capacity-

Johnny’s hands push your dress up your thighs, and you let out a small exhale at the feeling of cool cabin air on your exposed skin.

As a siren, you’re somewhat of a wild being. No matter how civilized you might look, with your long flowy dresses, and monarch system- you’re still not fully human, and you hate restrictive clothing, which is why, the dress is the only piece of fabric covering your body. As Johnny pushes the fabric up, he realizes your nudity under the silk, and you watch his pupils dilate with interest.

Johnny licks his lips, looking up at you one last time, as if asking for permission. You nod to him, a smile working its way onto your face as you realize how soft he’s being with you.

He’s the big bad Pirate King, but consent is still a must- God, he’s truly an enigma, and you’d be happy to spend years figuring him out.

Johnny dives into your pussy. Two large hands grab your thighs, spreading you open for the tongue that begins to lap at your core.

“Shit-” you groan. No one’s ever eaten you out like this before. You’re not a virgin per se, but your number of sexual experiences is severely limited. As far as mythical races go, the sirens aren’t the horniest of creatures, but there’s something about this Pirate King that changes everything.

You can feel Johnny grin against your pussy, and it turns you on even more as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking at it repeatedly.

Your hands are grabbing at the lush bedding, trying to keep you grounded on a ship that’s gently rocking from the sea. There are so many textures, the velvety fabrics, your silky dress pushed up to your waist. The smells of the wood and sea, the sounds of The Neo and the water lapping at her sides-

You’re overwhelmed in the best possible way as sounds of desperation escape you, spurring on the Pirate King as he works you over with his mouth.

You reach down, threading your fingers through his soft hair. God, some pirates are unhygienic as fuck, but this one seems to know how to take care of himself, and that’s an attractive quality in a man.

Johnny growls against your pussy, sucking your clit even harder, and your toes curl. You can feel an orgasm rising in the pit of your stomach, and Johnny’s steady pace is drawing that release closer and closer-

His grip digs into your thighs and you throw your head back gasping-

Your eyes clench shut as your orgasm washes over you, throbbing through your entire body unlike any high you’ve ever had, even those you’ve given yourself.

You ride out the orgasm, and Johnny continues to worship your core until you’re spent and sweaty. You push him away gently, and he looks up at you. As the Pirate King rises, he licks his lips, and you enjoy the view of him getting every last drop of your taste.

“You taste as angelic as you look, Princess,” Johnny muses.

“And I feel even better,” you say lazily.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Johnny shrugs off his white tunic, baring his washboard abs and broad chest. He’s got scars, battle wounds most likely, but nothing too gnarly. No, he’s quite beautiful, for a pirate.

Your dress has a low back, the type that you step into so your wings aren’t damaged or put in any awkward positions, so as Johnny strips himself, you tug the silky fabric of your own clothing down your body.

You love the feeling of the velvety bedding against your exposed skin, and you spread your legs for Johnny, an invite.

He drops his pants to the ground, and his heavy belt acts like as a weight, creating a loud thumping sound against the worn wooden floor.

Fuck. The Pirate King is packing. You’d noticed his affinity for a pistol over a sword, but you suppose that’s only because he has a sword sized cock inside his breeches.

Johnny reads your expression, and he lets out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll go slow with you.”

“You better. Being fatally impaled by the Pirate King was not in my nightly plan.”

“Just… pleasantly impaled by the Pirate King, right?” Johnny jokes, getting onto the bed with you, his large biceps bulging as he holds his weight overtop of your body.

God, he’s so handsome, and playful for a Pirate King too. There’s something to unique about this Captain John, and it takes your breath away. The familiarity makes you uncomfortable in some form, so instead of responding, you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours.

Johnny immediately kisses you, rolling his hips so his cock can drag against your pussy while you wrap your legs tight around him. His mouth is so distracting, but you simply can’t take your mind off of the massive length that’s toying by your clit with each rut of his hips.

How are you even going to fit this man inside of you?

To your surprise, Johnny is true to his word about not rushing anything. He simply makes out with you, rutting gently, working you up until you’re a gasping mess. You can feel your pussy practically crying onto his cock now, can feel how wet you’ve made his length with each pass of it through your pussy lips.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you tell him, adjusting slightly against his pillows, one wing stretching out to steady yourself a little.

“You sure about that?” Johnny taunts, bringing his lips to your throat, where he teases past your skin.

You moan desperately, tightening your grip on his hips, urging him to just fuck you-

Johnny’s nose grazes up your neck, and he pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, suckling on it gently.

“Please,” you whimper, all composure lost.

Johnny pulls away, looking down at you with an expression very much like concern while you grab at his broad shoulders. “Did you just say… please?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

The Pirate King grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his again. “That actually sounded really cute coming from you, Princess.”

“If you don’t want to fuck me, then don’t fuck me,” you snap, getting irritated in your impatient lust fueled state.

“Does it feel like I don’t want to fuck you?” Johnny counters, rutting his hips so you can feel his massive cock, all enlarged and throbbing- “I just don’t want to hurt you, Princess. Remember, I have to be a man without regrets, and if I hurt you, then I’d have something to regret, and I couldn’t effectively be King of the pirates.”

Your heart melts for him, and it’s the best explanation he could have possibly given. You smash your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as desperation continues to take over your entire body.

Johnny adjusts his cock, pressing just the tip to your aching hole. He’s as gentle as ever as he slowly pushes it in, waiting patiently as you get used to the stretch.

The Pirate King continues to kiss you, distracting you from the feeling until it becomes pleasurable, then, he pushes deeper into you, repeating the slow build up. He takes his time, and it’s as if he knows your body inside and out, as if he’s reading every little reaction to make it the best possible experience for you.

Johnny is now completely inside of you, and you gasp at how deep it feels. You’re shocked he’s flush to your body, your chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, lips parted, staring into each others eyes.

God, this connection feels unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced.

It’s as if he’s staring into your soul, which is an uncanny feeling given the fact that siren’ are the soul collectors of the mortal world. You feel so bare for him, so susceptible and weaponless- but there’s no fear with this knowledge. You trust the young Pirate King, you’re not sure why, but you do. It’s this deep knowing- one that you can’t put into words.

“You ready?” Johnny asks, swallowing thickly.

You nod, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m ready.”

Johnny leans down, gently pressing his lips to yours as he begins to move his hips, slowly rutting into you, allowing your body to get used to his size with each motion.

You moan desperately against his mouth, kissing him harder, gripping his strong shoulders desperately as his pace builds-

One shift has your wing caught under you uncomfortably, and you break the kiss. “Can I be on top? My wing-”

Before you can even finish your explanation, Johnny is grabbing the small of your back, keeping you tucked to his chest, and rolling you so you’re now in the dominant position. He looks up at you, and you stretch your wings out. Your hands fall flat on his chest, your head thrown back as you enjoy the feeling of freedom now that you’re on top.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Johnny breathes.

“You and your wing kink, mister Pirate King,” you laugh, looking down at him.

“There are worse kinks to have,” he suggests, stroking your hip.

You don’t bother to agree with him, you simply start to move, rubbing back and forth a little, getting used to how deep his cock is inside your core now that you’re in the power position.

“The way you’re taking me is fucking heaven,” Johnny groans, pressing his thumb to your clit to rub gentle circles that set your skin on fire.

“Maybe we were made for each other,” you offer breathlessly, intending it to be a lighthearted joke of sorts, but the growl Johnny releases at your words tells you he takes them seriously.

“Maybe we were,” Johnny agrees, rubbing your clit even harder. His other hand finds your hip, and he begins to half bounce you up and down on his cock, leveraging the bed so he can make his own shallow thrusts, coming up to meet you with each motion.

The thought of the two of you being weird, two sides of the same coin soulmates has your stomach twisting into knots, or maybe that’s just the massive cock rearranging your guts, you’re not quite sure.

God, he looks so pretty like this too- a thin layer of sweat on his broad chest, his pouty bottom lip caught between his sexy teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. The scars on his tanned skin truly don’t bug you, in fact, the intricate lines are almost a type of art all of their own. You could spend hours tracing them-

Your toes curl as Johnny’s thumb works your clit, combining with his cock in your tight hole, working you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Come on, Princess,” Johnny groans, “almost there, and then I can flip you over and fuck you stupid.”

You’re pretty sure he’s already fucking you stupid, and you’re not quite sure why he’s encouraging you when he’s doing practically all the work- so you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling that’s building- getting to the edge in record speed is the one thing you can control right now.

Each breath feels almost like a type of meditation now, your body thrumming with an eclectic energy that you know is almost ready to explode-

“That’s it, cum on my cock.”

His words are the trigger that has you short circuiting, your body jolting as your orgasm slams into you. You cry out, eyes clenching shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, your clit pulsing deliciously.

Johnny doesn’t let up, he continues to gently rub the sensitive nub, fucking up into you to prolong your high-

Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you collapse down against his chest, breathing deeply.

Johnny cradles you for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re gonna let me cum too, right, Princess?” he asks.

“Yeah, cum in me-” you whisper, too delirious to even think straight.

Johnny helps you off of him, adjusting you onto your stomach. He gets behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you up into doggy position. “This view is amazing,” he tells you, gently stroking one of your wings and making a shock of pleasure run through your body. “If it’s too much, just tell me to stop.”

You can only nod, bracing yourself as he lines his cock up with your soaked hole, pushing into you as easy as ever.

His hands find your hips, and he begins to rail into you. Gone is the gentleness from before, but you don’t mind it. No, there’s an enjoyment in this raw, animalistic savagery- or maybe you should classify it as pirate-like in nature. Regardless of specification, it feels fucking good, and each smack of Johnny’s hips against your ass has you clawing at his bedding.

Then, one of Johnny’s hands is smoothing up your back, and you let out a strangled squeal when he grips the base of your wing, using it as a type of leverage as he fucks you.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling of having your wings being touched, and there are even fewer metaphors to encapsulate the ecstasy that comes from having Johnny utilize your wings to fuck you absolutely stupid. All you can do is take what he gives you, muffling your sounds with his pillow as he draws you closer and closer to the edge yet again, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“These are sensitive, huh, Princess?” Johnny asks, stroking his pointer finger up the section of wing in his grasp. “Almost feels like you’re gonna cum again.”

“Fuck, I am- I will, just- don’t stop!” you beg.

“If that’s what my Princess commands.” In fact, Johnny fucks you even harder, fingers digging into your hip with each rough motion.

He draws circles on the base of your wing with his thumb, and your body begins to twitch-

“I want us to cum together,” Johnny breathes heavily. “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“Yes, yes-”

“Almost there,” the Pirate King warns you.

Your own high is balancing on the edge of the knife, and as Johnny releases a raw grunt of satisfaction, the sound sends you toppling into the pleasure abyss.

You can feel him filling you up with cum as your pussy milks him for every single drop that the Pirate King is worth. All you can do is lay there, face buried in the pillows while wave upon wave of ecstasy washes over you like an all consuming, destructive, sea tempest.

Despite how powerful and intense it is, there’s never been anything as good as this before either.

Soon, Johnny’s slowing down, breathing heavily against your back. Your wings twitch at the feeling of his exhales, and he releases the base of your appendage, stroking his fingers down your spine gently.

“Give me a second, then I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You can only whimper, in a daze from three hard orgasms.

Johnny is true to his word, slipping out of you a minute later and returning with a cloth. He cleans you up, and then, he wraps you in his arms, drawing you under the blankets so you can cuddle even closer.

The two of you fall asleep like this, a Siren Princess, and a Pirate King, two beings without an ounce of regret.

Six:

Johnny’s happy with how things are going with council. He’d thought long and hard about not incurring an all out war with the navy, while also not leaving a single pirate behind. Prison breaks with the purpose of salvation over bloodshed, that had been his primary goal, and while many of his fellow pirates had seemed a little less than enthusiastic about the idea, he’d gotten them to agree.

He can’t govern them at all times, it was clear to him that sooner or later, pirates would begin their own brand of revolutionary vigilantism, but without any specific boundaries prohibiting the excessive use of force and weapons, things would turn into an all out war faster than Johnny would have ever been able to manage.

No, the agreement to tone down the violence is a good one, and as all the pirates begrudgingly agree, Johnny turns his attention to you. “What do you think, Princess?”

You release a sigh, one large wing twitching behind you. “Unfortunately, unlike the rest of you, who are a fact of the seas, my kind isn’t as well known, especially not to this new British Royal Navy. To be part of this encroaching threat would only put my people in danger. I can’t actively condone or participate a war, even on a small scale like this. I think as pirates you should do what you’d like, but my people will keep to our Islands and hopefully remain unnoticed by the Navy.”

Johnny nods. “I understand your concerns,” and with that, he leaves you be. He’d wanted you to be part of this council, but he’d known there would be times where the topic at hand wasn’t something that would affect you. He’s just happy to have your voice here, to have his alliance with you be glaringly obvious to all those who might oppose him or question his legitimacy as the new Pirate King.

The council completes its dues, and soon, Johnny is walking back with you toward his ship.

His men get scarce, something that he doubts is a coincidence, and Johnny leads you to the bow of the ship. The Neo’s large winged figurehead looks out at the sea, and the pirate Captain gazes as well, noting the oncoming storm that’s brewing in the distance.

“I guess I should be going home,” you sigh.

“Those clouds don’t look very friendly,” Johnny points out. “You can stay another night if you’d like.”

“Storms don’t phase me, Captain,” you tease. “Although, before I go, I have something to give you.”

Johnny turns to watch you pull a small reed from your pocket. It’s like the one you’d given him a year ago, but more dainty in a way.

“This reed is different from the other one,” you explain. “This one is a frequency just for me, so you can call when you need anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you confirm with a sly smile. “If you play these three notes,” you demonstrate, “it will alert me that it’s not a life or death situation.”

“I’ll be sure to call for you if you’re needed,” Johnny muses, accepting the reed and playing the three note tune as easily as anything.

“And if I’m not needed, then I’m not needed,” you shrug.

Johnny likes this. He likes that you’re not trying to control him. No, you have an understanding that he is who he is. He’s a Pirate King, a man who more than anyone else, belongs to the sea. You’re not going to hold him down, and he’s pretty sure neither of you would enjoy it if you tried.

The flip side of that, is that you’re your own elusive being. You’re a Siren Princess, and he’s confident that you have your own things to do. He’s not sure what your life consists of, but he’s never going to be the man to get in the way of that and endeavor to cage the prettiest bird he’s ever seen.

The two of you have an understanding, and at the end of the day, that’s the best the young Pirate King could have ever hoped for.

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🔮 preview. There are all sorts of milestones he wants to have with you, but he supposes at the end of the day, the main thing he wants is tangible progress.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, body worship, fingering, grinding against Johnny’s hand, big dick Johnny, size kink, pussy stretching, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, wing kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 215

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

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When Johnny had first begun to see you, it had been every couple of months. It was a no strings attached, easy sort of connection- but somehow, he’s not sure when, it began to blossom into something more.

Every couple of months became once a month, and now, in the time between seeing you, Johnny struggles. He has your special reed in his hand, and many nights are spent with him fighting the urge to call you to his side.

It’s not just the sex anymore- although, the sex is great. No, it’s an inner peace that comes when you’re near, a comfort that gives him the best sleep of his life and the clearest mind. You simply make him better, and it’s a fact that is getting harder and harder for the Pirate King to ignore.

As much as he hates to admit it to himself… it’s beginning to feel an awful lot like the Pirate King is starting to have regrets.

He’s beginning to regret his commitment to the sea, to the ship, to the crew that follows his every word. He’s starting to imagine what a life less free would look like-

If there was ever a woman who could tie him down, it would be you, and he knows it.

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twenty-qs · 3 days ago

Text

Thinking some more about the lighting in the scene where Viktor wakes up and then leaves. And I don’t think it’s so simple as “Viktor is numb inside” or “Viktor no longer has affection for Jayce.”

Arcane is VERY purposeful about lighting. The angle and color and intensity—they all tell a story. And in this scene, Jayce always has his back against the window, awash in bright white light, while Viktor is either framed against the creepy platform thing where he had his chrysalis stage, or the darkness. It’s also notable that this scene is primarily from Viktor’s POV—it’s him piecing together what’s happened to him, why he’s alive, what he needs to do next. So this is Jayce the way Viktor sees him.

I think Viktor sees Jayce as a source of light in his life. This was always thematically true—Jayce getting the limelight while Viktor was in the shadows—but it had kind of a negative connotation before, where Jayce seemed to be growing in strength and vibrancy while Viktor withered, weakened, was shunted aside. But here, there’s nothing overpowering about the light. It has this soft, gentle glow over everything, including Viktor. The very first thing Viktor did when he woke up was go toward the light.

Then Viktor turns away and heads toward the darkness. He continues descending, all the way until he reaches the very darkest depths of the Undercity. There, he sees the people who are the lowest of lows, and performs a miracle for the selfless purpose of easing their suffering.

What Viktor reminds me of is an ascetic monk. (I know there’s a lot of Christian imagery, but I think this is also true for other belief systems like Buddhism.) Someone who has let go of worldly desires in pursuit of a holy mission to reduce human suffering. This is represented by Sky, who is the one who had the purest desire to help the Undercity (Viktor’s goals were corrupted by personal ambition and his desire to live). Whether this is literally Sky after merging with the Hexcore, or just some hallucination, it’s clear she acts as a “higher calling” who leads Viktor to his new mission. One thing that ascetic monks have in common is a purposeful self-denial of the things they personally covet. It’s a sort of death of the ego. Viktor goes with nothing but a blanket and his cane/staff. He doesn’t even give his name to anyone. He’s let go of the self so he can finally dedicate himself to the people.

So I think when Viktor turned away from Jayce, from the light, it wasn’t that he didn’t care about Jayce anymore. It’s just that he had kind of a divine revelation, and knew that he had to let go of everything that he once identified with in order to serve his new purpose. His care for Jayce was a selfish, personal kind of care. And that’s exactly why he had to leave. He wouldn’t be able to go all the way to those depths and bring salvation to people if he was still tied to his worldly connections. You can’t see in the dark until you shut off the flashlight.

Anyways. That’s my current theory about Viktor. Idk what the fuck is happening with Jayce though. There’s definitely something else going on about Jayce and light (the opening shows him blinded by light and the hexgates turned into pure white light) but I have no idea what that’s all about.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #jayce talis #viktor arcane #arcane season 2 #jayvik #arcane meta

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 days ago

Text

Look Alike

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3)

Warnings: eating disorder, mentions of depression, attempted murder, I didn’t copy the episode exactly so probably some mistakes

Synopsis: an angel is going around killing anyone who is suffering—but what happens when it goes after you?

A/N: this one is kinda heavy guys, so if this is a topic that will trigger you PLEASE do not read it. And please remember—I think you’re beautiful, and always remember to eat something, even if it’s just a snack, even if it’s not “good for you”; eating something just because you like how it tastes is better than not eating anything at all. Love you guys!

Your fingers fumbled as they retrieved your picture of Mary Winchester, tattered and faded at the edges. You looked from the picture to your own reflection, your heart plummeting.

Your mother had this…this look about her; she was slender and beautiful, but also strong. Strong enough to be a hunter.

You looked at your own reflection again before ducking your head, tucking Mary’s photo back into your wallet.

“Hey kid.” Dean’s voice in your doorway startled you, and you whipped your head around. “Lunch is ready, let’s go…what are you doing in here?”

“Oh, no-nothing,” you muttered, your hands fidgeting. “I’m not that hungry right now, maybe I’ll get something later.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Um—actually, maybe I will eat now.” you sidestepped his question and his body as you headed for the kitchen. Dean dropped the subject, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were going to have to be more careful about your eating habits—or lack thereof.

Of course Dean had made burgers again. You looked to Sam, hoping he’d made something else, but he was happily chowing down on a huge hamburger—apparently he didn’t mind them if they didn’t come from greasy diners.

You forced yourself not to huff; it was impossible to pretend to eat a burger, so you’d really have to eat this time.

“Here.” Dean pushed a plate at you, and you took it without protest.

You managed to choke down about two bites before Dean got a phone call. He spoke for a few minutes before hanging up and addressing his younger siblings.

“Cas has a case. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“A case?” You put down your burger. “I’ll go pack.”

“I can take this one alone,” Dean assured you.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m coming.” You started for the door, hoping he wouldn’t argue.

“You’re not gonna finish your food?” Sam asked.

“I had enough,” you assured him, and ran off before he could argue.

…

“So…he exploded.” Dean was staring around at the pink living room, a grimace on his face.

“Yeah. So completely that there’s not a bit of him left that’s bigger than a grain of sand,” a nearby officer said. Once the officer stepped away, Dean spoke to you. “I’m gonna go talk to Cas, see what he can tell me. You should stay at the motel, read up on some things.”

“Ok.” You shrugged. “Call me if you find anything out.”

“Deal.”

…

“Ephraim.”

“Gazuntite.”

“No, Dean. Ephraim was—is—an angel, his job on the battlefield was to end the suffering of dying angels.”

“End the suffering…let me guess, by blowing them up?” Dean said.

“Unfortunately, yes. It seems that he’s continuing his mission on earth.”

“Yeah, but these people aren’t dying, they just had a bad day.”

“Apparently Ephraim can’t tell the difference between emotional suffering and…”

“And dying?” Dean scoffed. “Cas, this is crazy. Everybody has bad days, this guy is gonna end up wiping out the world.”

“It’s more than just bad days,” Castiel argued. “These people were in serious emotional turmoil. But you’re right—you need to find him.”

“You’re not gonna help?” Dean challenged.

“Dean, I’m just human. There’s nothing I can do.”

…

You stared at the takeout container that Dean had got you before dropping you off. You couldn’t refuse, you knew he would start to notice if you refused too many meals, but you still didn’t want it.

Your stomach growled, and you cringed. Maybe part of you wanted it.

You pushed the container away, opting instead to don workout clothes—the motel had a gym. You’d never be able to be a hunter like Mary, you’d never be able to keep up with your brothers, if you didn’t workout more.

After an hour on the treadmill, you decided it was time to get back to work. You didn’t want to leave Dean in the lurch when it came to research, even if he hadn’t told you any more information. He got this way when he took you on hunts—determined to do it all alone, not clueing you in on anything.

It’s because you don’t look like a hunter yet.

You swallowed hard. You may not look like a hunter yet, but you would soon enough. You just had to skip a few more meals, go a few more days, and then—just maybe—you could be a good hunter. You would look like Mary did, strong and in shape, and your brothers would trust you more.

You slipped back into your room, going straight for your bag to get your picture of Mary. You held it up for the millionth time, looking from it to the mirror. Your heart sank—you weren’t Mary; maybe you never would be.

Your stomach growled again, and you huffed.

“No,” you told yourself. Your eyes flickered over to the takeout container. You snatched it off the table and threw it into the trash. “No!”

You couldn’t give up now—who cared if you were hungry? Sam and Dean gave up a lifetime of sleep to keep hunting, you could skip some meals to do the same. You had to.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying until a few tears dropped onto Mary’s smiling face in your hands.

“Mom,” you whimpered. “Why can’t I just be like you?”

“I can help you.” The voice behind you startled you, and you dropped Mary’s photo, whirling around and reaching for the gun at your waist and.

“Who are you?” You demanded, raising the weapon.

“That won’t do anything to me,” the man insisted. “And you don’t need it. I’m here to help you. You’re suffering, and I’m here to end it.”

“End it?” You took a step back. “You’re the guy we’re after. You’re the one who killed that man, and that teenager.”

“I ended their suffering,” the man continued, stepping towards you. “And I can end yours.”

“It’s not like that!” The gun was shaking in your hands. You didn’t bother to shoot, knowing it wouldn’t help. “I’m not dying!”

“You are,” he argued. “I can heal your hunger, but I cannot make you eat. But the end I will give you will be painless.”

“What are you?” You demanded, taking another step back. Your back hit the sharp edge of a splintered desk, halting your movements.

“I am an angel. My mission is to end suffering. Let me end yours.”

“An angel, huh.” You put your gun down on the desk as if in defeat. While Ephraim kept his attention on your face, you moved your hand down to the splintered edge of the table and slid it across, drawing blood. Dropping your hand out of sight behind the desk, you began to draw an angel banishing sigil.

Ephraim moved before you could blink, grabbing your wrist and twisting it away from the desk.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “I can help you.” His free hand was suddenly above you, lowering towards your forehead like death’s scythe.

“Hey!” The grip on you was released at the sound of Dean’s voice in the doorway. “Leave her alone!” Dean had his angel blade out and pointed at Ephraim. “You don’t get to just kill people because they’re hurting.”

“That’s exactly what I was made for,” Ephraim argued. “You didn’t even know she was suffering, but I do! And I can fix it!”

“That’s now how you fix it!” Dean thundered. He lunged forward, stabbing at Ephraim with the blade, but the angel side stepped him and flung him into the wall with a single flick of his wrist. The angel blade clattered to the ground, and you once again found yourself face-to-face with the murderous angel.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Look, I know you think you’re doing good. But humans—they hurt sometimes. But we can do better—I can do better—we’re all just doing the best we can.”

“If this is the best that you can do.” Ephraim shook his head. “Then this is what you need.” He stretched out his hand, and your breath caught in your throat.

You jumped back in surprise when Ephraim’s eyes glowed brightly, his jaw hanging open before he slumped to the ground. Dean stood behind him, a bloody angel blade gripped in his hand.

“That’s not what she needs,” he growled almost to himself. Then his eyes were on you. “Are you ok?”

You nodded shakily, taking a deep breath.

“Ok.” Dean dropped the angel blade. “Now what was that about? Why did he think—“

“I-I don’t know.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well what—“ Dean’s voice caught, and you looked up to see him staring at the corner of the room. You followed his gaze, and your stomach dropped. He was staring at the tiny garbage can in the corner, the open and full takeout container fully visible.

“Kid.” Dean swallowed. “When was the last time you ate? And no, that one bite of your burger didn’t count.” Dean’s eyes were on you now, and he petrified you to the spot with his gaze. “I mean when was the last time you really ate?”

“I—um…” your lip quivered and your hands began to fidget. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Ok, hey.” Dean pulled you into his arms when you started to cry. “I’ve got you kid.” He pulled away, brushing your tears. “Why are you doing this kid?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping at your face. “Dean—“ your voice caught and you choked on a sob.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “It’s ok, let’s…let’s go back home, ok? We can talk about it later. Go and wait in the car, I’ll bring the stuff.”

You went to the car without argument, and after you left Dean called Sam.

“Hey,” Dean huffed while he gathered the guns and clothes and tossed them in his bag. “Do you remember the last time you saw Y/N eat? Like, like a full meal.”

“Um…” Sam’s voice came out surprised and hesitant. “No.” Realization hit him. “No, I don’t. Dean, what’s going on?”

“I don’t think she’s eating. Ephraim…Ephraim tried to kill her.”

“I thought you said he only killed people who were…” Sam swallowed. “Who were really broken up, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean stopped packing long enough to clench and unclench his fist. “Yeah. She’s suffering, Sam, and we didn’t even know it. She stopped eating and we didn’t see.”

“Dean…” Dean heard Sam’s deep breath through the phone. “I’m…I’m gonna do some research while you get here. Try and talk to her on the ride home, ok? Maybe…we’ve gotta help her, Dean.”

“I know. We’ll be back in a couple hours.” Dean hung up, taking a deep breath. “Ok,” he said to himself, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a picture in the middle of the floor. He stooped to pick it up—it was Mary, when she wasn’t much older than you. Dean tucked it into his back pocket. “Ok.”

…

“Hey kid,” Dean greeted as he tossed his bag in the back. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, and you didn’t acknowledge him.

Dean let silence reign as he started up the Impala and headed down the road—he couldn’t force you to talk.

“I just wanted to look like her,” you said suddenly, your head resting against your knees.

Dean turned his head to look at you. “What?”

“Mom. I don’t look like her. She was such a good hunter, and I just wanted to be like that.”

“Kiddo—“ Dean’s voice caught. “Kid, you don’t have to look like her to be a good hunter.”

“But I can’t keep up with you.” You sniffled. “I thought if I looked like her…I could keep up with you.”

“When we were your age, we couldn’t have kept up with us,” Dean argued. “Besides, this isn’t…you don’t become a better hunter by starving yourself, kid.”

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as your fingers clenched on your jeans, bunching up the fabric before you let it go. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Dean forced himself to breathe through the pain, taking a moment before offering you a strong smile.

“That’s what we’re here for, kid. Me and Sammy are gonna help you.”

…

“Hey.” Sam’s hug when you stepped into the bunker was surprising and long. You heard Dean’s huff from behind you, but Sam ignored him.

“Hi.” Your greeting was muffled against Sam’s jacket, and he finally pulled away.

“Ok, so um, I’ve been doing some research, so I’ll show you what I got.” Sam reached behind him, picking up printouts from the internet. “I have a list of foods that are supposed to help, and um, I also made up a schedule—that’s supposed to make it easier—and if there’s any specific food you want me to pick up when I go out you can tell me. Or hey, you can just come with me and pick stuff out and—“

“Hey, dude,” Dean cut in with another huff. “I told you not to freak her out about this.”

“I’m not freaking her out!” Sam’s eyes went back to you. “Wait, am I freaking you out?”

“Um…” you picked at your hands. “It…it’s a lot…”

“We’ll start out small,” Dean insisted. “You want some toast?”

“Bread is good,” Sam piped up, holding up one of the research pages.

“Toast sounds good.” Your lips twitched up even as your eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, ok.” Dean’s arms were around you suddenly. “You got this, ok? We’re right here to help you.”

“Ok,” you sniffled.

Dean pulled away. “Ok. Now let’s get you something to eat, and then Sam can freak you out about everything he read.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I think I can do that,” you sniffled.

“I know you can.” Dean grinned. “Oh, hey—“ Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out your picture of Mary. “This is yours.” You took it with a shaky hand, and when you looked back up Dean was bending down to stare into your eyes. “Hey. You’re just as pretty as mom. And she…she would want you to take care of yourself, ok? And so would dad. And so do we. Kapeesh?”

You threw your arms around Dean.

“Kapeesh,” you told him.

“Ok.” Dean pulled away, reaching up and brushing a stray tear off your face. “Now let’s go get that toast.”

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