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pedgito · 2 months

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𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — one: beginnings | Joel Miller x reader

chapter summary | You're dead weight, a burden on Joel's shoulders after the death of his daughter and the collapse of the world. But, if there's one person to challenge him, it was you.

author's note | this spurred from jo (@undercoverpena) and i, a conversation over kinks and wanting to explore them in separate chapters but somehow create a cohesive story and here we are. she spun for me and gave me a collection of beautiful kinks to try out. this is going to be BIG one for me, so if you plan on staying along for this ride, i love you so much.

chapter warnings | 18+, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), canon character de*th, canon typical violence, m*rder tw, morally grey!joel with trust issues, tommy is buffer, use of weapons, weapon training, unjust decision making, reader is such a nuisance to joel, sex as a distraction, joel is so emotionally stunted he can't help it, awkward aftercare

word count —6k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

You’ve never seen so much blood.

His shirt was soaked to his neck, expression blank and void as Tommy rounded the truck to open the door—it wasn’t the same one you’ve seen pull into their driveway for years now. It was new, unfamiliar. Joel’s weighed down, his arms straining as he heaves whatever he’s holding up in his arms, finally coming from around the door and into view. Her curls fell first, body limp in Joel’s arm as he held her close–it was Sarah. Little Sarah who you would babysit in high school for extra cash when the Miller brothers had to work a few extra jobs to pay the bills, little Sarah who always had the biggest smile on her face. Not so little anymore, years gone and passed as you graduated and went off to work some dead-end job to stay afloat in hopes that you could attempt to pay a college tuition.

But, that all seemed futile now.

It was late September when the world ended—Joel’s birthday, you’d know that from the fact Sarah had mentioned it to you that morning as she checked the mail that Joel had forgotten from the day before. A normal day for you, for everyone else. But, for Sarah and many others, it was their last.

The neighborhood was quiet now, the hoard of freshly turned infected heading for the inner city and toward the noise, like one singular hivemind following a predetermined path.

And your parents—they weren’t even here. They had left for vacation a week prior, spending the next two weeks out of the country, celebrating their anniversary far away from responsibility and the barrage of news from all over the world. But, they would come back to nothing. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t wait around—it would get you killed; starvation, lack of resources, it would only get you so far.

The infection was worldwide, incurable—it was the last thing you heard before the satellite on your television cut out, snuffing out any last bit of hope you had left.

In the midst of Joel’s mindless walk to the front door of his home, Tommy glances over his shoulder to survey, likely for more infected. But, he spots you.

His eyes squint slightly, like he’s seeing a vision of you. They widen as he realizes you’re real, you here—you were shaking, arms crossed over your chest and your fingers digging into your biceps as you hid by the shadow of your door.

Tommy knows that look, your eyes go wide but soften as he approaches.

You can’t say you’ve held a conversation longer than five minutes with either of them, even after living next to them most of your life, but his hands are held up as he approaches and carefully, almost as if you were going to scurry away like a feral cat.

“You alright, honey?” His voice is quiet, a hushed whisper as he comes closer and stops a few inches, peering inside of your house and finding it empty, “Are they—did they—”

He looks over at you wearily and your fingers dig into your skin, peering over his shoulder and staring at the open door, Joel no longer in sight, “They left on a trip and I—I don’t,” You sigh through your nose, closing your eyes to blink away the stinging tears, “They’re dead either way, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand reaches around to rub at your back and you fall into him easily.

“Sarah–” Tommy tenses up, pulling away slowly to look at you as you peer up at him, noticing the near permanent frown on your face, your expression unchanging as you attempt to process and fail—it wasn’t fair, none of it made sense, “is she dead?”

The sound of something fragile falling and breaking in Joel’s house startles you both, sending you both apart and rushing toward the house without thinking. The idea of being alone now was more fearful than anything else—no survival instinct, no plan or method to stay alive. You’d be dead by next nightfall if you stuck around though, that much you knew.

The sight sends your heart into your stomach. Joel was hunched over Sarah’s lifeless body, his arms sticky with blood—some of it dried and some of it not. There were a few broken picture frames on the floor at Sarah’s feet and you felt your breath catching in your throat, watching as Joel brushed her hair from her face and cried, silently.

“Joel,” Tommy begins, slow and careful, “we’ve gotta figure out a plan.”

“We’re buryin’ her first,” Joel tells him, “not leavin’ her like this.”

Tommy nods in understanding, looking over at you briefly.

“Listen, Joel…”

“She ain’t our problem, Tommy.” He bites harshly, resting Sarah down gently as he rose from his knees, “Kid’s got her own family.”

“Joel,” Tommy stresses, motioning toward you subtly—Joel looks reluctantly and he can see the fear, practically smelling it on you—it’s the last thing he needs right now, “they’re gone—can’t leave her here.”

“We can.”

“We won’t.”

You take a few careful steps back, quiet and timid, away from the brothers.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy moves in, blocking his brother’s face from view as you lingered near the open front door, staring out toward the street as you couldn’t bare the sight of Sarah’s body laying a few feet to your right, “she used to babysit Sarah—helped you out in a pinch a hundred times. I understand this—”

“This is my daughter—”

“She’s my niece too, goddammit—don’t try and spin this, Joel.” Tommy rocks on his heels, hands hugging his hips as his shoulders stretch out, broad and wide, “We bury her, we get our shit and we go–I’m not losing you, too. I will drag your ass out of here if I have to.”

There’s a sliver of Joel’s face that comes into view as he peers over Tommy’s shoulder at you, eyes dragging over you carefully before he returns to Tommy, “She’s ain’t worth the trouble.”

He’s completely tossing aside the fact that you were an adult, young but still—you sigh shakily, “I can carry my own weight, you know?”

He’s stoic, a long stretch of silence as Tommy stares him down, lingering and waiting for Joel to come to his senses, but even when he does—it’s forced.

“Then start loading the truck,” Joel tells you, “anything—food, water—”

“Yeah, I got it.” You respond in a pinched tone, trying to stifle your own emotions.

Joel doesn’t argue further, picking up Sarah with a sudden gentleness that returns at the sight of his daughter while Tommy disappears to the attached garage and you linger for a brief moment as Joel admires her, knowing that this was all he had. Knowing that eventually even this memory would fade over time.

His guard softens as he looks at her and you find that was the right time to speak more candidly.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You tell him, your voice quiet as you approach and he looks at you briefly, acknowledging with a nod as you move beyond him and toward the kitchen, “she’s a sweet kid.”

His voice breaks but barely wavers, a subtle sign of emotion that he was suppressing deep down.

“She was.”

His departure after that is quiet, meeting Tommy at the backdoor as he reentered from the garage with the shovels and blanket in hand, a sorrowful look on his face that furrowed his brow.

They both worked silently in the backyard while you loaded up what you could. Their house was mostly scarce, knowing Joel was probably creeping up on a shopping day that would never come. There’s a few canned goods you manage to scavenge along with a decently untouched pack of water bottles and while you couldn’t brave the other houses in fear that something else might be lingering, you gather what you can from your own.

By the time you’re closing up the truck bed they’re both walking toward you, a gun tucked away in both of their waistbands and a rifle in Joel’s free hand—his arms were cleaner, albeit still dirty.

He’d changed, rid himself of the bloody clothes and brushed past you silently, his eyes dark and empty.

Tommy stops at your feet, offering up a knife sheathed in a leather casing that you could attach to your jeans, “Ain’t got another gun, but it’s somethin’.”

You nod slightly and take it from his grip, “Thank you,” You tell him, turning to find Joel waiting with the door open, expecting that you would climb into the middle as there was nowhere for you to go, unless the truck bed seemed like the better option—it didn’t.

It was blind trust, putting your life in the hands of both brothers.

But, you had no choice. All that mattered was living.

—

And for Joel, the cost didn’t matter.

It’s jarring, frightening. His emotions are like a light switch—when on, he’s calm and able to hold small talk, but even that was forced and uneasy. But, when your supply dwindles down after a week or so of driving and camping in the deep brush of forest, you find what the light switch is like when it’s off.

It was a stranger, a helpless guy alone and clearly on the verge of death. All of you were on edge, the dwindling September heat still lingered into October and you had blew through your last bottle of water the night before, sweat dampening your clothes as you sifted through the aisles of the convenience store that was bare bones and empty by now but you were hoping, praying—but then you hear it and to Joel, it was prey.

He yanks your knife from where it’s secured at your waist, so quick you barely even feel the tug as he carefully steps around the corner toward the counter, finding an older gentleman with feeble hands and energy that was dying out by the second. He was starving, dehydrated. But, so were you. And so was Joel.

“Joel, don’t.” You speak from behind him, “There’s another store in town. It’s bigger.”

“Hand it over,” Joel demands, the knife tucked away in his right hand behind his back as he held out his left, beckoning with his fingers as the man stared on, bottom lip trembling in fear as he squeezed at the plastic bottle, “now.”

There’s a moment of hesitation where the man begins to speak, shaking his head, but Joel is on him before he gets the chance, shoving the knife through the center of his throat—quick, quiet, efficient. You sigh deeply, knowing it was already coming. Joel wipes the blood away on the now dead man’s pants and snatches up the water bottle before he’s shoving it into your chest and sliding the knife back into the holster.

“You killed him,” Joel looks at you torsely, eyes half-lidded as he waits for you to continue, “you—you didn’t have to kill him, Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” He answers with finality, “Tommy’s waiting’, let’s go.”

You glance at the dead body with a grimace, the weight of it pulling down as the man slumped to the floor and his blood pooled closer and closer toward you. You step back quickly and follow after Joel who’s already ringing the bells on the door above the entrance.

“That was quick—no trouble?” Tommy asks when you return to the truck, climbing over Joel’s lap as he refuses to move, digging your knee into his thigh out of annoyance.

He takes it in stride, though. Doesn’t even react.

“No,” You lie easily, “Last one, though.”

You’ve learned to not speak on it—Joel’s quick tendencies for anger and bruteness. Hell, most of the time you could just ignore it, like now. Arguing never worked, Joel didn’t care enough.

Besides, you were just a waste of resources. Joel said it so often that it echoed in the back of your mind every time he slashed, stabbed, or gutted someone for something you needed, or wanted.

It started in small glimpses, you or Tommy could say a word, make a noise, and Joel’s brow would pinch together and the scowl on his face would deepen.

And Tommy was objectively selfless, which bothered Joel more than it should—but given how things were, it made sense. Good karma wasn’t going to do anything for your conscience in a world that was based on self-preservation. In Joel’s mind, it was kill or be killed. And he always killed first. He learned not to take chances, hold out on good faith. It didn’t exist anymore.

And he didn’t just attack on his own behalf—he’s done it for you on a few occasions. You’ve never killed an infected, Joel always got the first hit in. Your knife would be at the ready, shaky in your grip and he would look over at you with dismay, knowing that if you did manage to have a shot you would ultimately miss. So, instead of coaching, he yanks the knife from your grip and plunges it into the skull of the infected.

He hides his tendencies from Tommy well for a while—you always sensed Joel’s underlying itch for conflict after Sarah’s ultimate death and the few weeks you spend together on the road. You didn’t stay anywhere longer than a couple days, different cities throughout Texas as you made your way upstate. Utah, Boston, Pittsburg. Anywhere but here.

The early mornings in the forest after an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement—no rain meant sleeping in the bed of the truck or setting up camp in the one tent you had to share. But, when it did, the three of you would be forced to hunker down inside the four feet of truck cabin with nowhere to angle yourself but one of the brothers. Joel almost always shrugged you away, so by default, Tommy was the one you always chose. He didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

Regardless, early mornings usually meant that Tommy would take his time teaching you a few things while Joel slept heavy in the truck, the low rumble of his snore heard as you both paused and Tommy readjusted the position of the knife in your grip.

“If you’re gonna hold it the way you gotta keep the dull side close to your arm,” He tightens your fist around the handle, “that way you ain’t accidentally cutting yourself with your own blade.”

You nod, squeezing down on your grip until it feels comfortable and Tommy leads your hand back toward you before guiding it through and back towards him slowly, “Always aim for the head on infected—right to the brain, kills ‘em instantly.”

You already knew that, but the reiterating is a nice reminder.

Everything had a weakness.

“People,” Tommy starts hesitantly, “I mean, they’re livin’ and breathin’—if you let them close enough anywhere is gonna hurt them, but try to aim for the neck or the face.”

The stark image of Joel forcing the knife through the center of the man’s throat is heavy on your mind and Tommy pats on your arm as you lower it, but your eyes focus on his waist.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?”

Tommy looks at you wearily—not because he doesn’t trust you, but there’s something there.

“What happens if one of you is in trouble?” You ask him, pressing on the issue. “And I’m the only one who can do anything? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun. I’m not asking for everything, just enough to know. Tommy, come on.”

Tommy sighs, scratching at his slightly grown-out facial hair. It wasn’t nearly as thick as Joel’s, but it was clear you had all been deprived of basic hygiene over the last several weeks.

“Alright,” He relents, but holds up a finger at you, “Just the basics, for now.”

“I mean, Joel’s planning to drop me off at the nearest QZ anyways,” You joke, shoving your knife into the casing at your waist as Tommy pulls the gun out of where it’s tucked into the back of his jeans, “might as well learn as much as I can before then.”

“He won’t,” Tommy assures you, “we’re not abandoning you like that.”

You didn’t agree, but you push the words back down and take the gun that Tommy is offering as he comes to your side, arms coming around your back and around you. He’s positioning your fingers alongside his own and speaking over your shoulder and neither of you hear the car door that opens over your shoulder.

Within seconds the gun is being yanked from your grip and into Joel’s, his fingers dangling through the loop of the trigger and his eyes locked on his brother, “You lost your damn mind?”

Tommy snatches the gun back from his brother, tucking it away into his waistband.

“She’s got just as much reason to learn,” Tommy argues, “—I don’t see you makin’ an effort to teach her anything.”

“It’s not my problem,” Joel says dismissively, “we’re better off just doing the work ourselves. Kid can’t even kill an infected, she’s not gonna save your ass in a gunfight, either.”

The frustration in you boils, simmering over the edge as you push through both of them and toward the truck, closing the door with a slam as their angered voices muffle into the cabin of the truck.

“She’s not our problem, Tommy,” Joel tells him, “the sooner you realize that the better.”

“That why you plan on droppin’ her off on the doorstep of the first QZ we stumble into?”

There’s a long beat of silence before Joel speaks, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Tommy answers, his voice laced with smugness that even you could hear, “she’s already got it set in her mind that you will and you know what—don’t blame her, either.”

Eventually, the argument settles. It’s abrupt and both of them sandwich next to you in silence as Tommy follows the path back to the road, his fingers drumming quietly against the steering wheel. But, you can feel the charge of Joel’s frustration as his fingers twist around each other. You tune it out eventually, the silence drowned out by the low hum of a cassette tape that was playing a song you had heard a thousand times by now.

You knew your own weakness was hope and it was dwindling every day.

By Denver, you’re all irritable. Eleven hours cramped in a truck on days of very little sleep and small scraps of meals you’ve made stretch for weeks. All the tension, arguing, and frustrations comes to a head when you stumble upon an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town, close to the mountains and secluded. It was perfect.

There was a large, brushy forest to hunt and it was right beside a stream. You knew it was better than nothing and that the three of you could make it work for a time—the only problem, it was already occupied.

“Stay in the truck,” Joel orders to you, cocking his gun in his lap before he’s stuffing it back into his jeans and nodding at Tommy to follow. You almost expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. He follows, like a dutiful little brother as they both stalk toward the cabin calmly.

It was one car, clearly hot-wired and stolen alongside its broken windows.

It was clear that whoever was in the cabin wasn’t the original owners either, spotting the pile of dead infected burned to a crisp beside a stack of logs that you assumed were to keep the fire burning inside the house, watching as the black smoke creeped out of the chimney.

The minutes that pass feel like an hour and you begin to wander if they both decided to keep going, abandon you and try their chances down the stretch of highway without you.

You scoot into the driver’s seat and open the door, stepping out carefully as they muddy ground causes you to slip until you regain traction and as you close the door you hear it—a loud crash, a scuffle, and then Tommy’s voice alongside Joel’s.

You run in without thinking, crashing through the slightly open door to find them both with their arms around the neck of two other men, the strangers your eyes set on are already fading. They claw, scramble for air but they’re losing. Joel slams the butt of his gun into the back of the head of the guy he’s holding before they’re both twisting at their necks in unison, the signifying crack louder than the bodies as they hit the ground.

It isn’t shocking as it should be, having seen so many people on the other end of Joel’s violence—but for Tommy, the guilt of you having to witness that is immediate.

“Kiddo, I’m sorry,” He approaches, his hands out in front of him—he was approaching you the same way he had on outbreak day, timid and careful, “you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

You glance at Joel briefly who’s gun drops to the floor behind him as he heaves the dead man up in his arms and drags him out the back door of the cabin, there’s a subtle shake to his head at Tommy’s words that makes your ears ring, drowning out his profuse apologies.

“It’s us or them, right?”

It cuts off his line of speech and his eyebrows raise slightly, “What?”

“Us or them—I’m always going to choose us, for as long as that is. Joel would too.”

Suddenly he realizes that his justifying is naut as Joel rounds the corner and continues to drag the other body out before he’s joining you both in silence as he rubs his hands against his jacket.

“Alright, uh—I want you both to settle in here, try and make it more homey for the time being. I’m gonna drive into town and see what supplies I can scavenge, should be back by nightfall.”

“I’ll come with you,” Joel adds, but Tommy stops him.

“No,” He tells his brother, a quick shake of his head, “stay here with her, get another fire going.”

And for once, Joel listens to his younger brother. His tongue is poking at his cheek as he looks away with a begrudging annoyance as he stalks toward the fireplace.

“Keep an eye on him,” Tommy whispers to you, “alright?”

You nod and smile at the gentle squeeze to your bicep that Tommy offers as he departs.

When he’s gone, the silence is deafening. Joel’s gun was still on the floor, somehow forgotten by the man who never let anything slip past him, always on guard, always ready to attack.

His back is turned when you pick up the gun, the deafening click making his head turn on a swivel.

He’s on you in seconds, standing from his crouched position but you were quicker, stuffing the gun behind your back with a faint smile, taking a few steps away.

“Give it to me,” Joel commands, palm extended in waiting.

“Not like you to leave stuff layin’ around,” you comment jestingly, “I think I’ll keep it for a bit.”

He stalks, heavy footsteps against the hardwood floor as you retreat further and further until you’ve ultimately cornered yourself and Joel lunges for it behind your back but you take the opportunity to sweep under his arm and slip from his grip, dangling the gun from the grip of it with two fingers.

“What? You don’t trust me with it?” you taunt, “Think I’m gonna shoot you, don’t you?”

“I’m not askin’ again,” He charges and despite your quick reflex his hand is on your wrist first, the other coming around your neck as he presses you against the back of an old, dusty couch. It creaks under your weight and sends a cloud of dust up with the movement, “drop it.”

“Say it to my face,” you retort behind a strangled tone, feeling the heavy pressure of his thick fingers around your throat, tilting your chin up at his face where he towers over you, “say it and I’ll go—you won’t see me again, hear from me. I won’t be your responsibility anymore.”

Joel shakes your wrist and squeezes and the gun drops, clattering against the floor but he doesn’t let go, not yet.

“You’ll die out there.”

You squint your eyes in disbelief, a soft laugh bubbling from your chest.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you repeat that to Tommy a million times over the last few months.”

You pull at his grip but find that it only tightens, your fingers clawing at the hand around your throat, his fingers tucked under your jaw as it pulls your chin up and up, nearly touching his chest with how close he is to you now, your feet scrambling slightly underneath your for proper footing as you leaned against the couch.

You speak again, hoping to crawl under his skin and make him uneasy, bothered.

“What? Sudden change of heart?” you ask, “Suddenly I’m worth protecting? Tommy would love to know about the handful of men you’ve killed in my honor, you know?”

Joel’s face twitches at that, his eyes dragging toward the gun on the floor—that was your window.

You force your knees up and into his stomach, shoving him away as he stumbles but the feeling of his arm coming around your abdomen has you squirming, turning and hitting him with weak, balled up fists that didn’t amount to half the strength he encompassed. It was barely a struggle for him.

Eventually you give up, waiting and waiting for him to let you go. His gaze is heavy, almost curious in the way he watches you go through the stages of resistance to acceptance and then finally giving up before your eyes are peering up at him, pressed against him at every point of contact, the cold metal of his belt buckle digging into your stomach.

“You’re stuck with me and I’m sorry,” you tell him out of desperation, “I just want to learn and you could teach—”

It takes you a second to process when his lips press against yours, a biting kiss that is forceful and startling, gasping into his mouth at the action but your body reacts instinctively, arms wrapping around his neck and hands fisting into his hair, the subtle essence of salt and pepper that was only noticeable this close. Joel groans softly, the first true and honest sound that has come from him all evening.

“Irritating,” Joel speaks against your lips, mumbled as he leads you, bumping your legs against the arm of the couch before you’re both tumbling over, “—do you ever fuckin’ shut up?”

He’s coined you vexatious in his own mind, not realizing how impossible he was to be around either—stubborn, impossible. An unmoving force of rigidness, but here he was—pliable to the fingers that slip under his shirt as he settles between your open legs, his own pulling at the button of your jeans.

You don’t need words, knowing that you both have communicated off eye contact at a level that was never spoken about but just worked. It clicked and when he pushed, you gave into the blow.

Silently you work alongside his own hands, pushing your jeans down and off. You kick them to the floor, working at your underwear while he undoes his own jeans, feeling like you were both working against the clock with your heart hammering in your chest. He was eager, impatient—still Joel, but it was a new look. It was the dynamic that, for you, felt like the missing piece.

Weeks of constant bickering and side-eyed glances all boiling down to one break in his mulish personality, this was the resolve.

The warm touch of his palm against your upper thighs pull your attention to him and he breathes out harshly through his nostrils, his jeans shoved down his thighs and his free hand palming himself over his underwear, squeezing at your skin as he offers only one word in acknowledgement. A question.

“Yeah?”

You nod shakily, answering with a soft, “Yes.”

There is no build-up, no gentle touching that leads to soft caresses as Joel presses himself inside of you. His hand is gripping the arm of the couch above your head as he grips himself at the base of his cock before he’s pushing in with one solid jerk of his hips, a hurried and desperate movement to bury himself inside of you. Your fingers pull at the hair by his nape and he grunts, head pulling back as he snapped his hips back and pushed into you again, sharp and angered. His jaw was tense, the subtle peek of teeth bared behind his lips

It’s a harsh disjunction; a man you would watch from your window on weekends as he spent mornings chasing Sarah out in the lawn—softer, happier. Her protector.

With reluctance, he’s become your own. Whether he would admit it aloud or not, he knows. But, it isn’t the same—you were extra baggage, a burden, but one he felt chained too. And more importantly, distraction.

You could see his humanity slipping week by week, a dull shell of himself most days. He won’t even look at you now, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts into you, your eyes dragging from his face to his cock, your hand traveling down to fist at his shirt, dragging it up his stomach.

The dark, coarse hair at the base of his cock traveled up his stomach, across his thighs. Big, strong thighs that held your legs apart and the thickness of him ached, stretched you open after months of unintentional celibacy forcing you to grip him tight, wincing with every continuous snap of his hips, feeling a hand come around to cup the back of your head, cradling it as his forehead drops and presses against your own, blocking your line of sight and forcing your eyes closed. Just feel, he’s trying to convey. Don’t think.

And it works, lingering thoughts fading away as pleasure bleeds in. His top lip grazing against the round part of your nose, his hot breath fanning over your mouth as he huffs and you moan against him, a soft and broken noise that only forces his grip to tighten against the back of your head and the other hand at your thigh, finger digging into the flesh so harshly that the ache would linger for days.

You feel the crest creeping up on you but it isn’t enough, slipping your fingers between your body silently, but the fingers around your wrist startle you, dragging you back to the surface and opening your eyes to his, his expression earnest but stoic.

“Don’t,” He shakes his head, “—just close your eyes, I got it.”

You can’t find the energy inside to argue, feeling the hand cradling your head circle around to the crown of your scalp, fingers digging into the hair and pulling taut, forcing your head back and then he’s touching you, two thick fingers circling your clit in time with his harsh, hurried thrusts.

You do close your eyes, feeling the soft tuft of his hair against the side of your face as buries himself there, his movements jerkier as his fingers work quickly, squeezing around him as your fingers dig into his forearm, hips working against his fingers instinctively to search out more and more until you’re tipping over the cliff and free-falling, coming with a soft gasp as he pulls away suddenly, fisting his cock tightly as he came over your stomach, hastily shoving your shirt out of the way as he grunts quietly, his face pinched and completely unreadable when you do finally find the energy to look at him, eyes dragging toward the ceiling as you breathe and try to process what the fuck just happened.

There’s a distant rip of fabric somewhere to the right of you and far away, noticing that Joel’s already redressed when he approaches and wipes gently at the mess of cum dressed across your stomach, shoving your jeans back into your hand in the same movement.

You look at him oddly, shuffling the jeans and underwear in your grip as you rise, eyes following as he moved around, started building the fire Tommy had told him about a half hour ago and is so glaringly ignoring what had transpired just now—you move quickly, redressing to avoid the judgment if he looked back and you were still staring.

And you notice the itch, the unavoidable twitch in his shoulders as he can’t settle with his movements, occupying himself to keep running on the clear adrenaline high he was on—he’d killed a man and immediately directed his frustration at you and used it as a means to stall, distract, satiate that monster dwelling inside him that always came out around you.

“So, can I leave now?” You ask him, his eyes peeking over his shoulder as he shoved a new pile of wood into the fireplace, “Are we finished?”

“You’re not leaving,” Joel tells you—you weren’t moving, weren’t planning to, but you wanted to see where the conversation would go, whether Joel would admit that he cared more than he let on, his emotions so stunted since Sarah that they came out in bouts of violence and rage, “I’d never hear the end of it.”

You offer a smug chuckle in response, “So, I was right. You don’t want me around.”

Joel turns on his knee, allowing you to see the remnants of flush in his cheeks, his messy hair and his response that rips a hole straight through your chest, “I’m stuck with you because Tommy wants you around.”

It wasn’t a direct answer, but you could read into it enough.

You glance over the back of the couch, wondering if the gun was still laying on the floor where Joel had squeezed it out of your grip, but the click to your right has you turning in an instant, staring down the barrel of Joel’s gun.

“You got a lot to learn,” Your glare is less than impressed as it lands on him, petulant and annoyed, “Don’t ever touch my gun again, alright?”

“Oh,” you respond airily, an impish smile creeping onto your face as you tilted your head slightly, “so—you fucked me as punishment or because of some silly little fantasy you've always had of fucking your neighbors daughter?”

And to your surprise, Joel's response is less angered.

“You could do with a little punishment,” He rises on his knees, pocketing the gun back in his jeans, and smirking at your dumb-founded expression, “—couldn’t you?”

Joel approaches closer, motioning with his fingers for you to stand and without thinking, you follow. His subtle smirk grows wider and he’s reaching for the forgotten knife on the floor, having fallen off your pants in the midst of your hurried undressing.

“I ain’t here to teach—I’m keepin’ us alive. The sooner you learn to shut up and follow, the better,” He reaches for your hand, placing the knife into your open palm, “and you kissed back, so that look on your face, that regret—”

“Who said there was regret?”

Joel’s eyes stick to you, meeting yours fiercely for a moment as you take the knife from him and reattach it to the loop on your jeans. His tongue licks at his bottom lip briefly, watching the subtle grin spread across your face.

Your words were a challenge.

And for you, that meant game on.

dividers creds: @/saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou #tlou fanfiction #my writing #pedro pascal characters

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Note

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f #mafia au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

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kinardsevan · 3 months

Text

30 days of fluff challenge: day 11

"crying during a movie"

Tommy doesn’t expect it.

Evan picks the movie that night. It’s a newer one, from the past decade, and Tommy doesn’t really stay up on anything that isn’t a romantic comedy or an action flick, but Evan had found it in the midst of a twenty-minute search for something to watch while they have dinner, and he turns it on without either of them having much information on the movie.

They’re not far into the film when Tommy questions whether it was the right choice. It’s heavy—a filim about a girl who loses her entire family in an accident, and then has to decide whether she wants to survive alone, or die to be with them—and before long, he can see the way it’s affecting Evan on a much deeper level than they generally go for. Still, as they watch, Evan seems enamored by the film.

Somehow, Tommy gets sucked into it too, even though he’s concerned about the way his boyfriend is being affected by it. Still, it isn’t until the credits roll, and he glances over to see Evan’s reaction to the end of the film, that he finds him nearly beside himself.

“Babe?”

Evan inhales a shaky breath as more tears run down his face. He shakes his head and holds up a hand, intimating that he needs a moment. Tommy watches him wordlessly for a time, gives him the requested time to reign it in.

Except he doesn’t. Maybe he intended to, but Tommy sees him crumple and the quiet sobs that wrack out of his chest, and at that point, Tommy can’t just watch.

“Baby,” he interjects, reaching up for Evan’s hand. He pulls it to his mouth and kisses the blonde’s fingers before shifting even closer to him on the couch and pulling him in. “What’s happening right now?”

Evan forces in several deep breaths, which seem to help, because he’s calmer afterwards. Tommy pulls him in and presses his lips to his birthmark as he runs his fingers up and down Evan’s bicep.

“I’ve had that moment,” Evan finally admits after five long minutes of silence.

Tommy settles back, not letting go of him, but enough inches back into his own seat that he can see Evan.

“What moment,” he asks.

“After I was struck by lightning,” he explains. “When I was in the coma, I had this dream. A-and it was this life where Daniel was still alive, and Maddie never left Doug, and my parents actually cared.” He pauses, takes another breath, his eyes searching the floor. “Back then, I thought I decided to live because of everyone else. Because in the dream, Bobby didn’t live, and Eddie didn’t have custody of Christopher, and my sister wasn’t safe, but my parents cared and for a minute, all of that was really tempting.”

Tommy hums in understanding. They’ve had enough discussions about both of their parents at this point for him to understand that what Evan’s referring to isn’t as simple as just making a decision, even if it felt that way at the time.

“B-but there was this moment. I had this out-of-body experience, and I don’t know how I know it, but when they took me off the ventilator, they were concerned about me being able to breathe on my own. But in my head, I was fighting with…something akin to the devil on my shoulder?” He looks up at Tommy then, his brow furrowed at the recollection. “Like I had to decide to live. And obviously I did. But I could’ve chose not to.”

Tommy nods as he listens to him. He leans forward and kisses the side of Evan’s head again.

“But you did live,” Tommy reminds him.

Evan nods, and there are more tears running down his face again, which Tommy doesn’t love.

“That’s more upsetting?” He asks warily.

Evan shakes his head and then tilts his head back onto Tommy’s arm, looking up at him.

“You didn’t exist in that dream,” he rasps. “Because I didn’t know you. And if I hadn’t chosen to live then…” His voice trails off, shaking, but it makes sense to Tommy then. He doesn’t need the end of the sentence to understand why Evan’s upset.

Tommy takes a deep breath and then drops his head down, curling his fingers under Evan’s chin to tilt him in. This kiss is soft, but also quick and urgent. There’s a line that sets into his forehead as he presses his forehead against Evan’s, dignified by the pain of the mere suggestion of a version of a life that Evan Buckley doesn’t exist in.

“But you did,” he reminds him again. “I’m so glad you did.”

“Mmm,” Evan hums, lifting a hand and curling a loose fist around the collar of Tommy’s shirt. He looks back up at him, staring into the depths of Tommy’s ocean blue eyes, sapphire pools of adoration staring back at him.

“I used to have this checklist,” he adds. “When I would wake up in the morning, to make sure I'm alive, and not still stuck in the dream. Make sure night time came, make sure Bobby was alive, make sure Doug is still dead…”

Tommy nods again.

“But you said used to,” he states softly. “So you don’t anymore?”

Evan inhales a deep breath, the tinest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I do actually,” he replies, flatting his hand out against Tommy’s chest. “It’s only one thing now.”

Tommy’s brow creases, curious.

“Can I ask what that is,” he murmurs, adjusting his head on his own shoulder so that there’s only half an inch of space between his nose and Evan’s.

Evan nods. His eyes trail down briefly, and then back up to Tommy’s.

“Find this chest,” he rasps. “And make sure the heart inside of it still beating.”

#bucktommy #30 day fluff challenge #firepilot #firebeast #day 11 #tevan #kinley #if i stay reference #all the softness and fluff

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kageyomomma · 3 months

Text

little black dress - iwaizumi x reader

summary: inspired by this textpost

listen ik i said i was working on a kuroo piece but this idea came to me at literally 3am the night after i finished my rewatch of season 2 and i wrote it in my notes app while i was half asleep (& i did not proof it lol)

hope y'all don't hate it!

Friday afternoon always seemed to drag on at work. There was nothing left on your task list, so you had resorted to gossiping with your coworkers to pass the time. You had just let out a gasp at something one of them had said, when your phone lit up with a notification. The message was from your boyfriend, Hajime.

hajime <3:

Hey babe, do we have any plans tonight?

you:

not that i know of, did you have something in mind?

hajime <3:

Well, Oikawa just called me. Apparently he is in town for a few days and asked if we wanted to go out for drinks tonight.

you:

aw yeah that sounds fun! i always love getting to see tooru

hajime <3:

Alright, I'll try to find out the plan. See you at home beautiful.

You smiled at your phone and returned your attention to your coworkers.

"Everything okay over there?" One of them asked you, noticing that you had momentarily checked out of the conversation.

"Yeah that was my boyfriend, he said his old friend is in town and asked if we wanted to go out with him tonight."

"Ohhhhh!" Your other coworker exclaimed, "(Y/N) this is this perfect chance to wear that dress you showed us last week!"

You bit your finger nail as you recalled the little black dress that you impulsively bought last week. You had tried it on when it came in, and it looked fantastic on you, but it was also very short. Iwaizumi was not an overly controlling boyfriend, but you also wanted to respect him and your relationship. You smiled and nodded at your coworker, but did not say anything as you thought about the dress hanging in your closet.

After work you headed straight home, still feeling conflicted about your outfit for the evening. Iwaizumi was already home when you arrived. He greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Oikawa said he would meet us at 8 o'clock at that nice place downtown, you know how boujee he is," Iwaizumi said with a huff of laughter.

"I better start getting ready then."

About an hour later you were standing in your closet in a towel staring at the racks of clothes. Your eyes kept drifting back to the black dress that your coworker mentioned earlier.

'Fuck it' you thought as you grabbed it and went to finish getting ready.

7:30 rolls around and you are looking in the mirror to make sure everything is in place. Your hair is sitting perfectly, framing your face with soft curls. The bold-ish make up look that you went with looked immaculate, and your red lipstick paired beautifully with the little black dress. Iwaizumi walked in as you were strapping on your heels.

"Babe are you ready to g-" he started, but stopped in his tracks as he saw you. "Wow, you look absolutely incredible."

You stood up and offered him a small smile, "Are you sure this dress isn't too much? I feel like this dress is too short, and it's kinda low cut, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Iwaizumi scoffed and flexed his arms, carefully examining each of his biceps. His attention turned back to you, and he grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. He leaned toward your face until his lips were only a breath away and said, "wear whatever you want babe, I can fight."

bonus:

When you and Iwaizumi arrived 15 minutes late to meet Oikawa, it didn't take long for him to notice the red lipstick peeking out from under the collar of his friends shirt.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagines #hq imagines #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi

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armpirate · 6 months

Text

Indelible memories || Choi San

Bf experience

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 7.1k

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, vanilla sex, musical tantric sex, masturbation (female and male receiving), protected sex, teasing, dirty talk. (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Summary: It's your last week in Seoul, and your boyfriend has assured you you will remember every bit you spend together until you leave.

Aprox. time of reading: 30 minutes

MASTERLIST

I used a scene from a book by Megan Maxwell to inspire the smut. So, if it rings a bell for you, you already know why!

Boyfriend experience

Wednesday

The weight of your boyfriend's head on your shoulder made you quickly turn to him, finding him with his eyes half closed as he fought with his life to keep them open. He quickly made the attempt to sit straight, but his head didn't take long to start falling to the side softly as his eyes slowly closed at the same time, just to suddenly open when he was aware of how his body was leaning to the front a bit faster the deeper he fell asleep.

He was trying his best to stay awake, only because you wanted to watch that movie with him.

"Babe, let's go to sleep" you tried to convince him for the third time that night.

"Why? I'm awake" San insisted, making an effort to show off how he wasn't tired, although his puffy eyelids and the small marked circles underneath his eyes made it obvious enough for you. "Let's keep watching the movie".

You knew where all that stubbornness was coming from. And you also knew there would be no way to get San to change his mind after he convinced himself he'd be able to stay awake, although he hadn't been able to sleep properly for the past two days. He finally had a few days to get some rest, as his schedules cleared up a bit after coming and going to different places, but he kept pushing himself to the edge.

After you had gone forward with the promotion, San promised you he'd spend that last week with you as if nothing else mattered. In any other circumstance, he'd just agree with you on meeting on a different day if he felt his body wasn't going to handle it, but those last days he didn't care about it. He'd even crawl to your place if that meant he'd get to be with you as much as possible.

He just didn't want to regret not spending as much time as he could once you were gone.

His arm wrapped around you, changing the position of your bodies so you'd be lying on his side, while he leaned his body a bit more onto the armrest, to get his head to find some support in the palm of his hand.

That position was the killing shot for him. After fifteen minutes, you managed to look at him over his shoulder, finding him completely knocked out. His arm was stretched over the armrest, and his head had fallen over his bicep, his eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted as he finally allowed his body to get that well-deserved sleep.

"Love, let's go to sleep" you insisted again.

You didn't want to wake him up, but you also didn't want him to sleep in such an uncomfortable position.

"Stay here" he mumbled. "I don't want you to go".

You'd have thought he was awake, but the way his words sounded sloppy while being dragged with his tongue, and how he licked his lips to moisten them to proceed to close his mouth and keep sleeping, told you he was indeed asleep.

Hearing those words from him only made sense if he was asleep. And that, somehow, hurted you even more, because he hated the idea of you leaving as much as you did, but he still put on a facade, hiding his feelings so you wouldn't feel discouraged to do it. It made your heart ache to think that he believed he had to hold it in for you.

That night you curled up to him tighter than ever, not wanting to let go of him and everything that he meant for you.

Thursday

His hand was squeezing yours as you walked down the street. San picked you up at home, changing your plans last minute because he came up with a surprise out of nowhere, which he tried to avoid telling you about so he wouldn't ruin it. And you could tell he had most definitely avoided giving in to your interrogation tactics by avoiding speaking at all, with the only exception of telling you to hurry up or follow him.

Until he stopped in front of a closed establishment. You didn't know why you were there. The inside was dark, you could barely see further than what the lights of the street allowed you to.

"We shouldn't be doing this" you tried to stop him, holding onto his sleeve when he pulled the door open.

With everything that was going on in your lives, the last thing you needed was to have him involved in a scandal after breaking into someone else's establishment.

Your grip on the sleeve of his sweater got tighter when he stepped inside, waiting for you to do the same "If someone catches us..."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but..." before you could go on to point out the several reasons why you shouldn't be taking a step inside, San threw the most convincing tone you could've ever heard with those three words.

"Then follow me" he gently got rid of your grip, moving his right arm only so he could offer his left hand for you to hold it.

Even in that dim space, and only lightened up by the street lamps, you were able to see the way his eyes shined as he offered his hand to you, and it took you less than a second to hold it.

After he closed the main door behind you, and started walking among the darkness, only guided by some shadows on the floor, you were expecting for the alarm to blast at any point. All that nervousness was left behind after he crossed another door, leading up to a completely lightened up room, where there was an old lady sitting at one side of the table positioned in the middle of the room.

She quickly stood up and bowed to you two, getting the same greeting as an answer, although yours was a hesitant move, still unsure of what you were doing there, and why that lady with a brown apron seemed to be waiting for you.

"You've always wanted to do this" he started explaining, picking up one of the aprons hanging on the backrest of one of the chairs. "But for obvious reasons we couldn't" he sighed, stepping in front of you, "I managed to find a way to do it... Well, actually, Yunho did" his voice sound so soft as he explained himself, carefully moving around you to place the apron over your clothes. "Her daughter is a fan".

"What did you promise her?" you asked in a whisper.

"Free tickets for the concert, in exchange of keeping it hush hush from her daughter and sns" San answered in the same tone. "And maybe ten photocards signed by Hongjoong, but we'll worry about that another day".

The whole process of creating couple rings right from the start was something new and fun, but there was something so meaningful about it. Because it wasn't only the objects, it was how San pouted whenever he missed something, or the way the tip of your tongue stuck out when you were focused on engraving your initials together on the inside, or your laughs when San gasped when the old lady used the blowtorch to give shape to San's ring, or the way you exchanged looks whenever you had the chance. It was all of you and your feelings in those rings.

"This is so you don't forget who you belong to" he mentioned with a serious look, lifting your done ring in the air.

"As if I was thinking about that" you challenged him, letting him place the ring on your ring finger. "You'll be hearing more from me in Seattle than now".

"I hope so" he nodded, handing his ring to you so you'd put it on him the same way he did to you. Your thumb gently caressed his finger, letting out a sad smile take over your face.

There was something you wanted to ask, but you didn't dare to question out loud until you finally left the store with your new rings.

"Do you really want me to go?" the question came out so suddenly, and so out of nowhere after a few minutes, that it took San by surprise, not sure of why you were asking that.

"Is that a tricky question?" his eyes squinted

He left in the morning before you could even talk with him about what he mumbled in his sleep, and he dragged you out of home so fast that you barely had time to talk until you arrived at that shop.

"You've said what I wanted to hear, or what you think I want to hear ever since I told you. But I want to know what you really think, and what you really want. If you don't want me to leave, I can give up on..."

"Give up? Hey" his eyebrows were slightly furrowed at even the idea of you rejecting that opportunity for him. "You think it'd make me happy to see you turn down that offer because I said so? If we weren't together, you'd be thrilled for that promotion and you wouldn't have thought about it twice" your lips were pressed together when he described that reality. "Of course I don't want you to leave. I'd be tied at your hip if I could. But I also understand I can't push you back. You've always been supportive, and molding to my schedules and my life. And it's about time I do the same for you. I've always said you're my main priority, and your happiness takes part in that" his eyes were fixed on yours, although a few times they always ended up moving somewhere else in the street. "This will be a phase, to make us stronger" he assured you, cupping your cheeks, "We should take it as a long ass tour. We'll be back to each other before we can even think about it. Until that time comes, let's just enjoy this week together, hmm?".

Your arms wrapped around his body like that was the only place you wanted to be glued to, hiding your face on his chest while he completely covered your body in a big hug

Friday

You didn't think there was something weird with the way your boyfriend was dressed, with those unusual black baggy pants and oversized t-shirt, with his head being completely covered by a bucket hat and some random drawings covering his arms -until the edge of his sleeve- with black ink.

"Are those tattoos?" you finally asked in the car, moving your fingers over his skin to try to check what they were.

"Don't do that. It tickles" he moved his arm slightly, smiling before he answered. "They're fake. One of the stylists had it for a video performance, but we never ended up using it, so I asked him and he gave it to me to use today".

"Now that we're on it: aren't you supposed to be rehearsing right now?" your eyes squinted as you interrogated him.

San just shrugged, nodding at the same time he let you know he just didn't care "It's your last week. Yesterday I already spent way too much time outside, and I even fell asleep on Wednesday. The boys understood, so it should be alright" a low sigh announced the continuation of his explanation "It'll be just five days".

As he stopped the car, it made sense for you why he suddenly changed the way he dressed, or why he added those fake tattoos over his body. He wanted to be with you out in the open.

"I mean, it's a bit more effort than those celebs who think it's all done with a cap and shades" you pulled from the visor of his hat, making him whine and move your hands away.

"I also have a mask, so when I take off the hat in the attraction, they won't see my full face" he explained.

"Wouldn't that drag more attention on you?"

"That's why I'm using the tattoos" he explained as if it were obvious. "If someone thinks I'm famous, they'll check the tattoos and move on".

"It's concerning how much you've thought about this".

You were teasing him, and he knew it by the funny smile you had on your face before you started walking to the entrance. San moved fast though, intertwining your fingers together, holding your hand like he was going to do for the rest of the day.

Saturday

Another gasp came out with some splash from the water as you sank his arm into the sink filled with warm water. After his idea of disguising as someone else in the theme park turned out well, or so you thought, San found the rest of the morning trying to get rid of the fake tattoos with no luck.

"What the hell is this tattoo made of?" you kept rubbing the sponge on his skin. "I bet a real tattoo would be easier to erase than this".

"Today is the party, I can't show up like this" he complained.

"What party?" you suddenly stopped after what he said, looking up to him.

His eyes momentarily went big, quickly avoiding yours and concentrating back in his arm. "Party? What party?".

"You said today is the party" the emphasis on each word fell on San's back like a heavy bag.

He ruined the surprise, after he had told everyone to keep it quiet for you.

"I organized a party for you" he sighed, almost moving his arms out of the sink, but being kept from doing it by your hand holding tight on his upper arm. "I wanted you to take a good memory to Seattle, I invited some of our friends, the boys, even my parents are going to come... I told everyone not to tell you".

You could tell how disappointed he was at himself for ruining the surprise so easily, after all the effort he had put in it and keeping it a secret since he started preparing it.

"I'll pretend I'm surprised for you" you assured him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Now we really need to get rid of this".

Sunday

You were used to San spoiling you, but so much and so many days in a row? It felt like you were in paradise. You had been telling him constantly he didn't need to do all of that, you tried to assure him it was enough with just having him around, especially after how tired he probably was after the previous night's party.

Yet there he was. Whenever you needed something, he brought it to you. Whenever you were hungry, he prepared something for you. And whenever you wanted to do something, he'd agree without a single trail of doubt.

"I can't enjoy it" your head shook, as your eyebrows furrowed and your lips grimaced when you won the game.

"You literally humiliated me. I've never had such a bad time playing Monopoly".

"How do I know you didn't let me win?"

"Are you kidding?" he pointed to the board, "I even bought the blue ones, but you didn't fall on them a single time. We should've stopped playing after I gave you two of my properties" teasingly, he threw the fake money.

"What can I say? I'm good with business".

Your smile made him forget about everything he was complaining about, feeling happy and in the right place just by seeing those wrinkles in the corners of your eyes as your lips curved up with pride. Whatever happened, however that new experience turned out, he was sure he'd do everything in his hand to keep you smiling that way. Thinking about having to see that smile through a screen was something that killed him the few months he left for a concert, but it always made him feel better to know he'd see it in person after a short while, but now you both were entering that difficult phase where neither of you knew when would be the next time you'll be together like that, without worrying about taking a flight back home, because you two were in the same place together.

You had started picking up all the pieces to put them inside the box when he said: "Are you good at dancing, too?".

"You know I'm not" you chuckled, resting your hands at the edge of the small table.

San seemed to ignore your answer, because he got up from the floor either way and reached his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. You were still as confused, but it didn't stop you from taking his hand and standing in front of him, allowing him to guide you to one side of the living room.

"So suddenly?" you asked when his hand moved to your waist.

It wasn't like that was one thing out of the ordinary. Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic, and whatever idea that could make him feel like he was in a movie, he'd do it without thinking about it twice. And you always followed along, feeling full with those small gestures, because there wasn't anything more meaningful than those bright eyes looking down at you as if you were the most important in the world, while he guided your body with gentle moves.

Your cheek rested over your hand on his shoulder, while your nose rubbed a few times against his neck, trying to memorize his smell as well as you could.

"Did you improve your dancing skills?" he teased you, speaking before you could remind him of the pain he was trying to leave aside. "You haven't stepped on me yet".

"Is that an invitation for me to do it?".

San simply smiled, leaning over to link your lips together as you kept turning slowly on your feet. There was no music, but it was the best dance he had done in a long time.

Monday

"Three kids" he quickly said, finishing his map.

At that time, you were regretting ever teaching him that random game a few weeks back when you were bored. Every few seconds, he'd break the silence and lift his head to look at you over the folds of your t-shirt, momentarily freeing you from the weight of it on your chest.

"Three kids... Are you insane?" you took the notebook away from him.

Where there should be the three crushes' names, he had put: dog, cat, other. Looking below, you could see how excitedly he had encircled the number three, related to the number of kids he would have, and even lower, he had written three different professions: singer, writer, personal trainer.

"Why did you even include writer? You don't ever let anyone read your poems"

"Now I'm an idol, nobody should be allowed to read them"

And he did really mean it. Nobody, not even you, had ever read one of his poems.

"And personal trainer?" you chuckled.

"I didn't know what else to put there" he excused himself. "It was the first to go, luckily. It isn't meant to happen".

"Hey, in the location you didn't even write real places: Y/n's heart, my heart, anywhere... This is cheesy even for me" San snatched the notebook from your hands, giving it another read.

"I didn't want to put a real place" he shrugged. "Wherever it is, it's not important. What matters is that we're together" his tone quickly changed as he focused on another part of the game. "We'll get married in five years, right after I return from military service. Hmm, here it says it'll be in winter, but we could ignore it and get married in spring".

"Yeah, that sounds better" you nodded, playing along. "Hmm, I've always thought of getting married out in the open, with a cute dress with my shoulders exposed. I can't do that in winter".

"Why don't you do it and see what turns out?".

You'd have liked to pretend you didn't want to do it, but just the idea of planning your future together sounded exciting and tempting itself. It was a conversation you had a few times already, although it never seemed as serious as that evening.

It almost sounded like a promise between you two.

The smile on your face couldn't be hidden as you quickly sat up, starting to write all those details in a whole new sheet.

Tuesday

"I don't get why we're doing this" he complained, surrounding the bed with deep steps until he was standing on the side opposite to yours.

"Because you said you wanted us to remember this night for a long time" you giggled, quoting him a few minutes back when he was kissing you while you were on top of him. "And we will" you assured him.

"Yes, I'll remember this as the night my girlfriend..."

"Are you complaining?" you warned him, lifting your index in his direction, "Because you said you'd do everything I wanted to do on our last night". A click of tongue confirmed you were starting to get annoyed "Don't you trust me?"

"I do" by the way his lips opened again right after, you were sure he was about to speak, but you interrupted him before he could.

"Then choose three songs. The sexiest songs you can come up with" he sighed, finally giving in and picking his phone out of his pocket to look for the songs that could fit the mood you wanted to build.

He just couldn't resist you whenever you came up with an idea, it was so special whenever you confessed what you wanted to do. It showed how deep the trust was between you two, how your relationship was so safe in every aspect, that he only wanted to build it stronger. So San chose those three songs carefully, scrolling through his general playlist until he found them.

When he turned to you again, your lip was trapped under your upper teeth, and your gaze was eager for more than just him. San left his phone over the nightstand, following your guidance before you told him to get naked together, where you were standing in that moment, working on your respective clothings until you were completely naked in front of one another, with a distance that seemed like kilometers.

The hairs in your body raised as he scanned your naked body among the darkness, delicately looking at you from head to where the edge of the bed allowed him to see. And you did the same, making him feel suddenly nervous and exposed for the first time in those almost two years of relationship.

Under your guidance, he sat in the middle of the bed, following your movements while you crawled over the mattress to where he was, only moving away from him to pick up the phone.

"We can't speak and we can't touch each other while the first song plays" you warned him.

"What do you mean I can't touch you?" he whined as you joined him in the middle of the bed, placing your legs around his waist.

"You can't" you firmly shook your head. "If you do, I'll replay the song. When the second one starts, we'll be able to touch each other, kiss and speak. And, with the third one, everything will be allowed. Got it?".

Aware that you were waiting for him to answer, he nodded "Got it".

After he nodded for one last time, you finally clicked on the play button. Just a second later, a slow and sensual bhangra melody filled the room, covering your heavy breathing. You had to hold back from speaking out loud and congratulating him for picking such a good song. Ride it by Jay Sean would've been in your list if you had been in charge of it.

Touchin' and teasin' me, tellin' me no

The second your eyes met, you could see the way he was trying to hold his breath, piling up every effort to keep his hands away from you. You knew your boyfriend for long enough to know that he was going to speak before he emitted a sound.

"You look beautiful tonight".

"Babe" you whined. "We can't speak, remember?".

"I know. But I needed to tell you".

"Then tell me through your eyes" both of your fingers pointed at your eyes, to later point at his. "Let's focus on each other, hmm? Look at every detail, let your head imagine and your body feel".

Twisting his lips again, he nodded. And while it seemed like he had it all under control, his voice suddenly sounded over the music again "Will I be able to tell you through my eyes?".

"Babe, you have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen in my life. You'll be able to" you assured him. "Let's try it again".

San closed his eyes, trying to focus and gain some control back, after suddenly feeling so nervous under your gaze. It was such an intimate moment, that he didn't really know how to deal with it silently. He felt so exposed, yet so connected to you when your eyes met, that he felt tickles in his body when you gave him a tiny sided smile to let him know you were feeling the same way. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel the warmth of his body almost coating yours, his forearms were on each side of your ankles, but it felt like they were searing your skin.

Your eyes, and the lyrics of that song, were the only way you had to communicate everything you wanted to do to each other right in that moment. He was craving your voice, and hearing you whimper with every touch of his fingertips on your soft skin, while you were dying to cover his lips with yours, finding them more tempting than ever before.

You wanted to feel each other, you wanted to hear each other, you wanted to lose control together... But the last minute of the song kept you from doing so, almost feeling like there was a chain keeping your hands away from each other as you battled your deeper wants.

The seductive sound of a trumpet marked the ending of the first phase, and the beginning of the second one. You recognised the song almost instantly, moving closer to him to wrap your arms around his neck. Chase Atlantic was never his cup of tea, but he still chose Slow Down for that moment.

"I thought you said you didn't like this song" you teased him, sinking your fingers slowly in his hair.

"I don't, but it reminds me of you" he confessed, finally moving his fingers over your calves, "and how pretty you looked while I fucked you in the backseat of my car".

Just hearing those words coming out of him made your core throb with need, and the images replaying in your head made it feel so vivid that you could almost feel every inch of his dick rubbing against your walls and making you curl your toes inside the sneakers you wore that night. That song started playing when you two moved to the back, and he started pounding into you from behind after you had teased him on his lap.

"Did I?" you purred against his lips. "You always look so hot when you show how bigger and stronger you are, maybe that had a lot to do with how I looked" your lips traced his marked jaw, slightly sticking out the tip of your tongue.

He gulped so loud that you could hear and feel the moment the spit went down his throat when your lips met the freckles of his neck. You knew how sensitive that spot had always been for him.

For a second, he had you under his charm, you were under his control by how quick he was using the dirty talk to make you weaker, but you clapped back quite fast, making him suddenly nervous by how soft and seductive your voice sounded at the same time.

He remembered how insecure and lost you were on your first times, and how slowly you became the woman you were then: fierce, sexy, free... And what made him twitch between your bodies was thinking that he was the only one that saw that change.

You kissed him first, sucking his lower lip so delicately that he thought his whole body paralyzed with the way you trapped him. But your head quickly moved back before he could make the kiss go deeper.

He tried once, twice... always with the same result. Until he hooked your jaw in his fingers with a growl, moving your face to him to link your lips together just the way he wanted to have you. His tongue moved first, sneaking through your lips to make you gasp when it twirled around yours.

The first song had made you so sensitive and needy for his touch that the slight rub of his tongue on yours had you clenching around nothing, and grinding your hips against his hard-on for some friction.

"Babe, I thought you said I should take it easy" he broke the kiss to tease you for your own desperation. "You need me so bad?".

"Uh-hum" you licked your lips, cleaning all the remains of your mixed spits on them. "I need to feel you stretching me out as good as you know" you purred against his lips, but he only smirked in response.

He had insisted on saving up all the energy for your last night together, to make it more special for the both of you. And just for that same reason, you came up with the idea of doing tantric sex to start the night -after reading it on a book-, but it only ended up with you being victim of your own torture.

Your breathing instantly cut when two of his fingers moved over your clit, slowly and gently rubbing in eight-shapes traces. San had to control himself from surrendering to you after he met your folds, finding them completely soaked in your arousal.

"The song hasn't finished yet. Don't try to tempt me" almost covering your body, he leaned over you to whisper in your ear. "This was your idea".

Your breathing was faster, and your hips seemed to find a way to move by themselves, lifting every single time against his digits. You were so trapped when he kissed you again, that you didn't know when your fingers hooked around his wrist and moved his fingers down your pussy.

"What do you want?" he hissed against your lips, dedicating you one of those filthy looks that just made you want to do all the nasty things that came up to mind.

"Finger me" your voice sounded weak, but your petition was so determined that it almost sounded like you were begging.

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside your entrance, getting deeper until he was knuckles deep in you.

He never went too fast, his finger never curled in your insides to reach that glorious spot, he just kept you there hanging as his digits pounded in and out of you so slowly that you were sure he was just trying to drive you crazy.

But two could play that game.

Millimeters away from his lips, you spit on your hand to guide it to his hard shaft, while your other hand pushed him to your lips by his nape. He groaned during the kiss while your fingers moved over his dick, coating it with the saliva before you wrapped them around it and started moving your fingers up and down, barely adding any pressure.

That kiss turned so hungry, so savage, that you both knew it was only a declaration of how much you both needed each other at that point of the game. While neither of you wanted to give in first, you were almost praying the other surrendered and took the next step before the song ended.

The pop-rock R&B music stopped, letting a slower indie rock song start. You both looked at each other knowing exactly what it meant: the start of the third phase.

"New rule: we can't touch each other until..."

You didn't let him finish, pushing his body onto the mattress to straddle his body with one leg on each side of his hips. But San was faster, holding your body and making the two of you roll so he was on top between your legs.

"I don't want to wait anymore" you whispered, attempting to pout when you saw the tease in his eyes.

"Neither do I" he confessed, giving you a sweet smile.

San moved away from you only to pick a condom from the nightstand on his right, separating your bodies while standing on his knee to wrap himself with the latex. With another kiss, he completely covered your body, molding himself in between your thighs, with one hand cupping one of your cheeks while the other directed himself to your entrance.

Your nails dived on the skin of his shoulders as he stretched you out, slowly moving forward inch by inch until your hips were connected to one another. He stopped there, taking his time to admire every detail in your face as he rubbed his nose on yours.

While your legs were tangled together, you moved your foot up through his calf, at the same time your fingertips traced his spine from his lower back to his shoulders.

"San" you called him, having his eyes falling on yours with so much dedication that you felt your heart crumpling in your chest ", I'm yours".

It sounded like a promise.

And that was exactly what it was. You were assuring him that whatever happened, how far you were from each other, you'd remain his, just like he'd remain yours.

He leaned over you after saying that, linking your lips together before his hips started rocking against yours, steadily making your lower back hit the mattress every few thrusts. One of his hands never left your cheek, but the other wandered over your curves and in between your bodies, reaching your swollen button to get that first moan from you.

There was nothing more addictive than losing all types of control of your body because of San.

Your knees were at the level of his waist, while your heels digged on his lower back as his pounds got a little faster with the passing of time.

"Harder, babe" you moaned with a shaky voice.

Just like you asked, his thrusts went against your pelvis with a bigger impact, making your whole body bounce and emit that loud clap that echoed through the room and almost sounded over your voice.

San quickly moved your hands away from his face and his shoulders, holding you by your wrists to put them over your head. He only enclosed his fingers around your small joints for a few seconds, caressing your exposed palms with his digits until he was able to hold your hands, intertwining yours fingers together, closing his fist so tight to assure you that he wouldn't ever let you go. He linked your lips together again, drinking up all of your moans.

Succumbing to pleasure, feeling that knot in your stomach tightening with every move of his hips, and every rub of his pelvis against your clit, you tried to fight that outer force that made your back arch and your head move back, because you wanted to keep kissing him while he drove you to your orgasm. Curling your fingers a bit, you went from holding his hand to digging your nails on his knuckles, slowly losing every control that was remaining in your system.

San felt it on the way your moans sounded more choked, and the way you clenched around him like you never wanted him to let go, and that only encouraged him to go a bit faster, keeping that same strength of his thrusts.

Your orgasm was stronger than you, having you break the kiss to let out the deepest breath and the loudest moan that could gift his ears. He still went on, fucking you through your high to reach his.

One thrust.

Two thrusts.

Three thrusts.

And he was gone.

You recognised those small whimpers, getting out one right after the other, until a low groan culminated it all as his thrusts got sloppier and his cock twitched inside you while he spilled himself inside the condom.

His forehead covered yours and his hands finally let go of yours to caress your forearms while your fingers cupped his cheeks.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me" he whispered, with the most sincere tone in his voice.

"I know" you nodded, trying to move his bangs away from his head, only to have them fall back to the same place right after. "I love you so much".

"I love you, too" his head was hidden in the curve of your neck, while your arms hugged him tight.

But you didn't want sadness to ruin the mood of the night, you didn't want that sensation of losing something to get to you until the time you actually had to leave. It was your last night, and you two needed to enjoy it.

"Hmm, what about a second round?".

"You want more?" he asked, raising his eyebrows surprised as he looked at you again.

"Always".

After saying that, you succeeded at making your body roll over the bed, getting on top of him to go on with a night that you didn't want to see the end of.

Wednesday

That day nothing felt like you were going to leave, like you were actually saying goodbye to all those things. San drove you to the airport, and you still didn't have the sensation that you'd be seeing that city for the last time in a long while.

You both woke up curled next to each other, you both cuddled like you always did in the mornings you weren't busy, you both had breakfast and joked around. Not even dragging those two big suitcases made you feel like you were leaving.

Until you arrived at the airport and reality hit you.

You could feel the way your hand was shaking despite having his almost covering it, and that knot in your throat was tying up as tight as possible with every step you took. You were so focused on your thoughts, that you didn't know when exactly those tears started rolling down your cheeks until you felt a salty taste from one of them in your mouth.

"Hey, hey" he stopped, placing himself in front of you and leaning over so your eyes could be at the same height and be able to look at one another under the visor of his cap. "We promised we wouldn't do this".

"I know" you managed to say. "It's just... I can't..." your head shook, letting him know you wouldn't be able to say another word before you broke out crying again.

The rhythm of his heart beating should've been peaceful enough to calm you down when he hugged you, other times it definitely worked. But that morning it only made you want to stick to him, because you knew it wouldn't be there as soon as you got on that plane.

In your almost two years of relationship you never had to consider having to let it go to each other's safe place, not even once. And even if you had a week to get ready for it, you ignored it, spending time together and making you treasure that comfortable place that your relationship was.

And now reality was hitting you two like a truck.

"We'll text each other constantly, we'll facetime every day, I'll go visit you every time I can, and you'll come to visit me whenever you have the chance" he tried to calm you down. "Remember what we said?" softly, he moved back just to be able to wipe your tears away "This will only make us stronger".

You really wanted to take that step, to go further in your career, but it was burning your chest to know that was the sacrifice you had to make to get it.

His words managed to comfort you, they helped calm you down, but it had the reverse effect on him.

You felt a drop falling over your shoulder, and when you looked up, you could see San trying to hold back those tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. Your arms moved up to his shoulders, now adopting the position of the one who was comforting him to caress the strings of hair that escaped his cap.

"Time will also fly" you whispered with a shaky voice. "Who knows? Maybe I get the chance to come back sooner than what we think".

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling a strong grip around your body when your lips kissed the curve of his neck, right where his freckles were.

"We said we wouldn't make a scene, and look at us" you chuckled.

San had been so used to seeing you whenever he came back from tour, to escaping anywhere with you whenever he had a gap in his schedule, that finally realizing all those small plans would be gone for a long while was aching more than he could've imagined.

You stayed there after calming down, holding hands, just enjoying the last few minutes together before it was time for you to go. San held you tight, hugging you tight one last time before you started going your separate ways. Although you stopped shortly after you started walking, turning on your tracks and running to your boyfriend to give him one last hug.

When you kissed again, you felt that salty taste on your lips again, but you didn't know if it belonged to your tears or his. You two tried to force a smile when you broke the kiss and stepped back, trying to encourage the other to be well despite feeling broken inside.

#armpirate #ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #ateez smut #choi san smut #sanxreader scenarios #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #soft #idol!au #idol!san

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justbelievinginmagic · 7 months

Text

˗ˏˋ do you even lift, bro??ˎˊ˗ : CHANGBIN X READER

pairing: changbin x plus-size fem!reader

summary: changbin loves showing off for you.

warnings/tags: pg-13, insecurities surrounding weight, exercising, so many pet names, fluff fluff fluff! this is so self-indulgent. the fact changbin can lift 280 lbs haunts me in the best way.

wordcount: 1.5k words

You always liked to watch your boyfriend work out in his personal home gym. Sometimes you’d join him in exercising (he loves the idea of being a gym couple despite your gentle disagreement) but most times you’d lounge across the couch (that he had put into the space just for you, of course) and work on something on your laptop. Time with Changbin was always limited – between tours, practices, recording sessions, producing sessions, and, of course, company work – any free time shared was bonding time. And Changbin loved spending time with you no matter the activity.

Working out wasn’t your favorite activity – at least not how Changbin approached it. As an idol, he was quite regimented when it came to… anything. He saw it as an accomplishment. Why just make the usual count of reps when its Better if he did more? He went harder and harder each session. His workout routine was intense and not something you couldn’t just hop into without huffing and puffing. Working out wasn’t your favorite activity but watching Changbin work out was.

The sounds: Soft huffs, gentle grunts, and low whines. The whispers of his reps under his breath. The clink-clank of the machines’ parts. The clunk of the weights hitting the ground heavily. His workout playlist going between loud rap to uppity girly pop to even slow R&B (sometimes songs you swear you heard in tender moments between you two.)

The sights: His face screwed up into a grimace shouldn’t look so handsome – bared teeth with his eyes shut. His nose scrunched as he lifts weights high above him. The gleam of sweat making his skin look golden and glowy. His hair damp across his forehead. His white compression shirt getting more and more see-through as he continues his workout (and the inevitable shiver that goes through you when he sheds the shirt with a groan.)

It never gets old.

This was another such day. You had tried a simple work-out. Some cardio and some light weight training (at the insistence of Changbin.) You’ve had many conversations about exercising (it’s his favorite hobby and its your hardest frenemy as a plus size woman after all, and there were multiple conversations about the importance of strength training with weights – “you won’t bulk, baby! I promise. No, you won’t—who told you you would get a footballer’s shoulders? No, no, baby! Here--” and then he taught you workouts that would be good for you courtesy of his trainer). And while you were done in 30 minutes, you knew Changbin had at least another 30 minutes on his calendar set aside for ‘working out with yeobo’ as it was marked in his schedule.

So here you sat on the couch, gazing over at Changbin only to avert your gaze when his dark eyes eventually flickered over to you. It was a fun game. Looking over again when you feel his gentle gaze leave you, your eyes lick over his form. He was weight-training. A completely different routine to your light weight lifting to tone your arms and back. He was lifting heavy weights. Some were being swung up to his head before he squatted and lowered the weight in between his legs. Another was a normal curling of weights to show off his biceps and triceps. And now… oh it was your favorite – the dead lift.

The idea that your boyfriend could hold such a high amount of weight was attractive. And you’ve told him many times. Still, almost like a child on Christmas seeing the gifts around the tree in the morning, you perch up on the leathered couch to gaze over at your Changbin. When he glanced your way as he added another round heavy-looking weight, he laughed as he caught your gaze finally.

“Caught ya, yeobo,” he teased smiling that grin that made your heart tremble with a flurry of butterflies. “I win our game today.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t trying to win – I just want to look at my handsome man.”

He pursed his lips into an air-kiss (that you dramatically grab the air for) as he moved to place another weight on the bar.

“How much is that?” you queried.

Looking over the weights, he replied, “Around 180 pounds.”

Almost as if to tease you, his arms raised high above his head as he peeled the skin-tight shirt from his form. His muscles bounced as they settled into place after tossing the shirt aside. Changbin glanced over at you with bashful eyes. Your reaction made him laugh, overly dramatically flinging yourself back on the couch in a overwhelmed mess. "Stop," you whined, peering at him from your spot. He moved to lift the weight he prepared, arms flexing deliciously.

You looked him up and down before catcalling proudly. “You’re so hot.”

He smirked as he continued to lift the weights.

You couldn’t help but let the number he told you echo in your mind. You were heavier than that. You watched him as he lifted the weights again and again. Was it hard for him? You watched his breath – his chest rising and falling as he pursed his lips as he took in a big thing of air.

“I’m surprised you can hold me up,” you commented offhandedly-more absentmindedly as you continued to ogle your boyfriend. Of course, he has – your moments in bed don’t always stay limited to the bed – but now you were thinking… has he ever lifted you up fully? Sure, he’s lifted your leg up or held your legs or held you against the wall. You couldn’t remember if he’s ever held you like a bride or even slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

His breath that he was holding as he lifted was audible as he dropped the weights unceremoniously.

“What?” he spluttered – as if you had insulted him personally.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Eyes widening as you laugh a bit, if not a bit self-deprecatingly.

“Baby, I’m not tiny. I know I’m big and I’m—you know I don’t expect you to lift me or hold my weight. I’m too heavy for everyone.” You snorted a bit. “The times you have is enough.”

“C’mon over here, jagiya,” he called, hands reaching out to you.

“Binnie,” you tried as you looked at him. “Don’t do this.”

The worst feeling in the world is when someone says no, they can handle you – only to can’t. Throughout your life, you’ve experienced this – moments where you’ve sat on the laps of others only to hear an ‘oof’ while smaller friends never experienced such a reaction. You can see it now – your sweet boyfriend trying to lift you up for longer than a moment only to huff and lower you to your feet.

“Bunny,” he hummed as he came over to the couch. “Do you think my muscles are for show?” he tilted his head a bit as if challenging you.

You gave him a bit of a dead-eyed look. “Binnie- really I’ve go –“ You didn’t get to finish your words as he bent down to scoop an arm under your legs, letting his other arm support your back. A soft gasp left you as he stood back up, your arms scrambling to wrap around his neck. Trying to hoist your weight up, but he refused, pulling you closer to his chest in rebellion.

“Shh,” he hushed as he walked over to the large mirrors beside his weights.

“Never say I can’t hold you,” he murmured softly as he held you close to his chest. There wasn’t an inkling of struggle or huff in his voice. He was just holding you. Something you imagined before countlessly but with burning heart of self-consciousness never thought could happen. Yet here he was.

“In fact,” he hummed as he walked over to the nearby weight rack, with you in his arms still. “You are as light as a feather.” He squatted once, twice. His arms didn’t tremble. His breath didn’t hitch. If you were attracted when watching him work out, in this instance, you could faint with how much adoration radiated from your heart. Adoration and anticipation.

He glanced down at you, lips curling into a soft grin at the look in your eyes. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, pursing his lips over and over with a smooching sound. As much as he’d love to swing you around to hold you by your bum (with your legs wrapping around his lean waist), he wasn’t done proving a point.

The nearby weight rack was lower than his waist and, so carefully, he squatted down.

“Can you hold one of those weights, yeobo?” he pointed with his chin to the sets of weights resting on the rack. 20lb, 40 lb, 50lb, more. “Whichever you can hold, darling.”

You reach over to grab the one of your choice before resting it on the curve of your hips. As he stood again, he swung you about, doing curls with your form.

“Yeah, still light as a feather,” he hummed. Changbin’s ears burned with pride as he heard your soft girlish giggle. He let out his own giggle which only made you blush, arms going to pull you towards his neck. He leaned his head forward, following your blushing bashful hiding towards his neck. “You hear me? I’m not even breaking a sweat, yeobo.” He pressed another kiss to the curve of your cheek.

Your eyes flicker to meet his tender ones.

“Never ever say I can’t lift you or that you are too big for me,” he murmured gently. “You are perfect. My angel.” He swayed you a bit like a baby. “Light as a feather, angel.”

#seo changbin x reader #seo changbin x you #changbin x reader #changbin x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #changbin fluff #skz imagines #changbin imagines #written by haley

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pedge-stuff · 1 year

Note

I just had the worst and saddest possible day ever and all I wished was someone here, just to hug me under my cold covers. Can you please make something up with pedro and reader please?

I'm so sorry you are going through this?? I hope things have improved since you submitted this. Sending love your way.

—————————————————————————

okay (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

a little, plotless shorty for your troubles.

thanks, as always, for everything.

TW: a very brief mention of disordered eating

summary: sometimes, you just need to be held.

—————————————————————————

"I'm okay," you whisper. "It's okay, really. I just need a little bit."

Less than convincing.

There is a dip in the mattress behind you. Even with your eyes closed, covers pulled over your head, turned away from him entirely, you can tell he is settling against the headboard, atop the duvet.

Pedro doesn't speak. Doesn't touch you, either, but you're not really sure if you're grateful for that; sometimes, being touched when you're like this feels so intolerable, it takes your breath away. Other times, a soft touch feels like the only thing that can hold you together. Trial and error, involving a lot of shitty and unfair antagonisms, has taught Pedro to give you space before he gives you love.

This is why you suck, your brain supplies. Nothing more— your mind is too fucking tired to even dissect your insecurities properly. You just feel bad.

Not without reason; at least, not today. Three missed calls from your mother, with whom you are barely speaking to, anyways. (It turns out being engaged to Oberyn Martell is about the only thing that could cure her passive aggressive homophobia. A bit too late to be water under the bridge, at any rate.)

Three missed calls, and some really shit news.

So, you're in bed. Under the covers, hiding, as if 8:30 is a totally normal bedtime.

And things are decidedly not good.

The tears come, silent and steady.

A warm press of lips to the back of your neck startles you; hot puffs of breath where his nose is buries into the hair curled at your nape, just a moment, before pulling back. It does not feel as bad as you'd feared.

"Sorry," you croak, blindly reaching behind you; squeeze what feels like his knee, in what you hope is a marginally reassuring gesture. "I'm fine, baby, you don't have to sit here with me." Pedro is early to bed— neither of you are really night owls— but not this early.

He makes no effort to move. "Can I..." A tentative hand, between your shoulder blades.

You can't help the thin whine that accompanies your shaky exhale. Fucking pathetic. But you turn, slowly, rolling over to face him. You'd assumed he was up against the headboard, but he's shifted down now, head on the pillow beside you.

Smiling, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, he tucks an arm over your waist. He's always been strong, biceps as thick and sturdy as tree limbs, but the Gladiator training has added a layer of muscle just about everywhere. (Including his stomach. Abs are slowly stealing the small belly there, and while you're proud of the work he's putting in, you secretly miss the softness.)

"I don't know what you're thinking," Pedro whispers, mouth brushing against the top of your head. "But I'm so sorry, honey." He rubs the length of your spine, brow furrowing at the feeling of unfamiliar protrusions. Stress and an irregular schedule has sent good eating habits by the wayside; your body is shrinking, while his grows.

It's been the shittiest fucking month. He's been gone, you've been busy, and neither of you have gotten enough of the other. Back in New York three days now, but this is the first night you've been able to stay in together— and, of course, you've ruined it.

"Just happy to be with you," Pedro says, as if reading your mind. "Maybe this strike'll last forever, and I'll never need to go back to Morocco. Sorry, Paul Mescal."

You laugh, despite yourself, thick with tears. "I'm gonna miss the fan selfies, I think. What're they calling you? Pee-paw?"

Pedro groans, punishing you by pulling you tighter against him. Your face is squashed against his chest. Not a hardship. He smells clean, spiced. Familiar. Comfortably, and safe.

"You're engaged to the oldest man on the internet," he laments. "In Twitter years, I'm dead."

The squished hug is short-lived, breaking as he rolls back, gently, to get a better look at you. Cups your face, puffy and wet and gross; brushes twin thumbs over your cheeks, with a fond smile.

"There you are," Pedro whispers.

"I'm okay." Another sniff, but the threat of tears seems to have subsided. Today was shit, but it's over now; you're here, together, with nothing but time and sleep ahead of you.

"It's okay that you're not, sweetheart."

But you are. You're with him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #din djarin #javier pena #javier pena x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the mandolorian #narcos

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partycatty · 7 months

Note

drunkenly sending oldie johnny (your boss basically) nudes⁉️⁉️

older!johnny cage > because of you

warnings: ur ass and butt are out, age gap (ur about 30), drunken goobers

[ masterlist ]

you weren't the type of person to get plastered on a tuesday, but a mission with the special forces went off with every success possible. johnny, one of the leaders and coordinators, insisted that a party was well-deserved, as was a week off (provided that any netherrealm horrors don't peek their head around the corner in that time).

a healthy serving of wine swirled in your glass as you were too entranced in the motion to notice your boss coming up to you. he had a beer in hand, and a sloppier smile than the one he typically carried himself with. he was loosened up, ready to charm anyone that'll give him the time of day. it's one of those traits you never really let go of as you age.

"there you are!" he exclaims, slamming a large hand onto your shoulder. "been looking for you since i arrived. wanted to thank you for your smart thinking on the mission."

your cheeks flare up at the sudden, very masculine attention. "thank you, lieutenant, but i just did what i had to. i didn't put much thought into it, i just —"

he shuts you up quick, pinching two fingers in front of your face with a grin.

"i'm johnny tonight," he starts with. "and don't downplay yourself. you're one incredible little firecracker." and with that, he provides another reassuring slap to the arm before pivoting and returning to the center of the party, where more people were bound to interact.

the interaction was so platonic, so casual, but your head felt fuzzy. any attention from johnny sent you reeling despite your most professional attempts to keep it under wraps. you wanted to dump your wine onto the floor, but dammit, it was actually pretty expensive courtesy of johnny.

most of the night didn't really happen in your memory, you were in and out as you enjoyed probably more alcohol than intended. perhaps you were trying to drown your embarrassment. tragically for the party, you were a quiet, sleepy drunk. and johnny of all people noticed your gentle swaying before anyone else.

"hey hun, you doing okay?" he asks, a small slur in his own voice as well. he leans down to inspect you, a strong hand holding your arm. "you look like you're ready to fall over." it took a good amount of strength to not let a little moan out at how good he smelled, even when mixed in with alcohol.

you rub your eyes with a small "mhm," not really paying much attention to your surroundings. johnny was having none of it.

"i know i told everyone to party hard, but i think you've had enough, doll," johnny admits, hands on his hips. "how about you retire to your quarters?"

you want to nod, you want to be curled up in your bed and dreaming but you honestly struggled to recall the map to your quarters. you were in a large common room, that much you knew. but when it came to stumbling your way back, it felt like traversing the jungle. johnny noticed your hesitation.

"here, come on," he holds his arm out, in that helpful fatherly way he adopted after having cassie. although he could be an egotistical pain in the ass, he still knew how to flip the switch and be a useful member of the special forces. your wrap your arms around his, drunkenly flustering yourself with the side of his bicep. you almost blurt out how much you'd like to take a bite out of it, but you thankfully hold your tongue.

the walk felt impossibly long to the both of you, the only noise being his boots and your own heeled shoes. johnny looks down at you with a weak smile.

"you look nice," he compliments, admiring your figure in your outfit. "don't think i've ever seen you in civilian clothes before." instinctively, your face slams into his arm, concealing your flushed face. he jumps, eyebrows shooting up. "oh, not great with compliments, huh?"

oh my god, dude. this is your boss. your boss is complimenting you privately. he's walking you to your room. out of all of the other members, he knows where your room is?? you feel yourself sobering up in horror, but all you can do is squeak out an "mm-mm," into the fabric of his sleeve. he chuckles lowly.

"that's alright," he reassures you with a loose grin. "can you stay upright for me?" his request feels suddenly entirely possible. yes, he's your boss, but if he asked you to jump you'd ask how high. you'd probably agree to several crimes if he asked in that sultry voice of his. your back involuntarily straightens at his minor request, and he chuckles again. "good girl, there we go."

his words feel like the world's hottest spell. it's like his voice is the only thing to come through in your screaming mind, interjecting any dirty thoughts that could possibly be conjured up inside.

after however long it might've been, you're standing at your door with johnny looming behind you. noticing you're too drunk and flustered to move on your own, he reaches around you and opens your door for you, ushering you in by the small of your back. a back that might split in two if he was any rougher.

"you need me to tuck you in?" he asks teasingly, seating you on your bed and standing over you. his hand finds its way to the top of your head, stroking with the length of your hair. your head tilts up to look at him through fluttering lashes, a harsh shake of your head telling him you were a big girl, you could do it on your own.

"good girl."

and there it was again, that heat curling into your stomach at his words. he used that phrase rarely, very rarely in training. johnny knew of the connotation of the phrase, sure he did. but your mind was so foggy, you couldn't determine if it was an intentional usage or not. you could only take it for what it was.

the silence seemed to be a response in itself. he pats your thigh, standing upright fully.

"right. well, best get to bed," he insists coolly. his tone sounds restrained, distant. like he's trying to stay calm. you can't argue or protest, just hum in response. he checks behind him one last time before shutting the door and leaving you to flail in your blankets.

are you that drunk to think he's flirting with you? is HE that drunk to flirt with you? of course, in your twisted, distorted mind, this was an indicator that not only was he flirting with you, he wanted you biblically. carnally. whatever other word you could pull from your dulled brain.

the sensations he had left behind, his lingering scent, you were starting to lose it. even sitting upright, your hand dove under your pants and lazily played with yourself, trying to relieve the part embarrassment and part lust you felt from his presence.

in the heat of your masturbation, your horniness spoke to you like a devil on your shoulder, telling you to show him how good it was feeling. so, like a fool, you snapped a shaky video of yourself. you laid on your back and continued to massage your clit in slow, tender circles, enough to hopefully send him into shock.

you find his contact easily, considering you often searched for it and debated texting him outside of work hours. but now, that anxiety was gone, and you sent the video with no shame, captioning it with as flirty of a message you could type.

"m still thinkinf of yuo" was your best attempt so you settled with it. johnny didn't open it, considering he was at a party and likely too busy to check his phone. in your imagination however, it felt like a game to see how many times you could text him and still not get a response. so, you sent another.

you pulled your shirt up, letting your breasts ripple freely with each tug and pinch of your nipple. your drunken whines were barely audible unless the volume was on full blast. you sent it without shame.

"woulf feel bettre with yhor hands."

as a final attempt to get his attention, you type out a firm and blunt confession, one that you would have never thought to type in a million years. damn his pricey wine!!

"i need you"

at this message, he finally opens it and the read receipt makes you nauseous. could you lose your job over this? probably. johnny takes a looooong time to reply, though his message is short.

"sweetheart." that's all it says, and you can't make out the tone. condescending? encouraging? your conclusion is even more vague at his next message. "you're drunk. please get some rest."

if there's anything the special forces taught you, it's that you don't back down from a fight. so, you lazily shimmy your pants further down to get a juicier view of your sloppy pussy, dragging a thin line of your fluids to snap a photo of.

"cant hepl it," you text back. "need yoy all the timr"

"do i need to come in there and put you to bed myself so you stop sending those pictures?"

you swallow dryly. shit. maybe this isn't the best approach. he seems frustrated, annoyed with your pushy behavior. or maybe, and the thought makes you grin wickedly, maybe johnny wants to put you in your place the way you dream about.

"maybe," you add a tongue out emoji for extra measures. johnny reads it, but doesn't reply.

several minutes fly by as you're lazily toying with yourself, chasing the high that might've been a bad idea in hindsight. you'll worry about it when you're sober.

boots echo down the hallway. a master key jingles in your doorknob. you don't think to remove your hand from under your pants, instead craning your neck to see what the deal was.

the door slowly swings open, and johnny's silhouette is massive in the doorway. his breathing is heavy. his fists are clenched. a sight so beautiful in your drunk mind that you can't help but widen your legs ever so slightly. he seemingly twitches in response.

"lieutenant," you breathe out, your circular motions on your clit speeding up. johnny can only shush you before making quick strides to your side, slamming your thighs together with a deep sigh.

"bed," he commands darkly, voice sounding stern, but not in the way he'd act around the trainees. "now."

"mm," you whine, trying to reopen your legs but his hands clasp your knees harshly. "i was close." he sighs again, placing his forehead on your knees.

"doll," he warns you again. "i'm not asking."

"did you like the videos?" you slur out, bringing your fingers to your lips to nervously fiddle with them. "i made them for you."

he exhales sharply, sounding more like a frustrated hiss. "that's not—"

"did you like seeing me touch myself to you?" this brazen attitude comes out of left field for you. it was like your mind and body were on autopilot.

"you're playing a dangerous game."

"i know."

johnny tries to avert his eyes from you, but they can only fall to your wetness coating your thighs.

"jesus..." he mutters, tilting his head to get a better look. "doll, you're soaked."

"because of you."

"is that so?"

slowly, tenderly, he reopens your thighs with a palm on each leg. your cunt is on full display, soaked and aching from the previous pleasure. as if it was the only logical way to approach this, johnny's hand lowers to your core, swiping a thumb across your folds and making you jump. his eyes are glassy, like he's not in control of his actions. his jaw is tense.

"god, i..." his thumb pulls away and you writhe. "i shouldn't. we can't."

"why not?" your voice is whiny, needy for more.

"i'm your boss, doll."

"that makes it more exciting."

"if anyone finds out—"

"they won't."

his inner turmoil fizzes away when he catches another glance at your pussy, shiny and slick with need for him and him only. his thumb returns, darting straight to your clit to rub circles with his calloused fingerprint.

"i'm not gonna fuck you," he mutters, transfixed on the sight below him. you feel tears prick in the corners of your eyes when you can only weakly ask why not. he takes a moment to reply. "because i wouldn't be able to control myself."

johnny's fingers pick up the pace, now creating an obscene slick noise from your cunt with his fingers. he toys with your sensitive bud, relishing in the way you squirm and flush from his hands alone. his dick twitches eagerly with each moan you spill, and he thinks to himself that he'd rather enjoy making you scream from his dick. perhaps next time.

"johnny—" you whimper, hands digging into his forearm. "please, i— 'm close." you wish you hadn't gotten yourself a head start, so maybe it would last longer.

"mm?" his voice feels far away, not really listening to your warning as his brutal pace goes unfaltered.

"johnny," you try to warn him again, needier this time. your volume increases. he holds a hand down on your stomach, flat to keep you from escaping his touch.

his fingers spread your folds apart as he gets full access to your clit. his lips part to groan at the pretty sight, and the way his motions become sloppy as he loses traction and slips across your folds. as your lips part to let out a needy cry, he leans forward from between your legs and firmly slams his lips against yours, swallowing every attempt of a moan you could make. it's his warm, wet lips that send you over the edge, one that he rubs you right through. as you throw your head back and disconnect your lips, he buries his face in your neck to take in your scent.

"good girl..." johnny gently encourages you as you ride out your orgasm. now weakly spasming and fluttering around nothing. "you're alright, i've got you."

after some time of you laying seemingly lifeless, he removes his fingers from your soaking pussy. from how hard you came with his fingers alone, you wanted to feel embarrassed, but you were instead in a dumb bliss.

johnny sits up again, wrapping his lips around his fingers to clean the mess you made on him. his eyes flutter shut at your taste. his other hand falls to his cock, shamelessly readjusting the thick tent you created to avoid suspicion. your head falls forward again to get a hazy look at his form hovering above you.

"get some rest," he quietly asks, glancing to the door to ensure nobody heard. "i'd... like to have a word with you. in my office. tomorrow."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mk11 #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

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bri-cheeses · 1 month

Text

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 1

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Word Count: 854 |

“So? Have you got it?”

Evan’s curious gaze roamed over his body like he couldn’t wait for an answer, instead having to search on his own. Barty laughed.

“Yes, I’ve got it, keep your pants on.”

Evan quirked a small smile and settled down, the bed creaking as he shifted his weight. Barty wasn’t sure why they had ended up on his bed, seeing as there were plenty of other, better places to do this—such as the window nook, which was plenty big to hold them both, or potentially even the chairs in the common room downstairs. Regardless, when Evan had come crawling into his bed as soon as they awoke, Barty hadn’t complained.

“Where is it?” Evan asked, still impatient. His eyes tracked Barty’s movements as he reached up towards his left sleeve and rolled it up, revealing a black mark in the shape of a somewhat blurred slash.

“Wow,” Evan breathed. His eyes were wide.

“Wow,” Barty agreed. Evan had the right idea with being a little in awe. Of course, Barty had already seen it on Dorcas—who had turned seventeen already—but it was something entirely to see it on himself. A permanent mark that would come alive with colors once your soulmate, typically by accident, touched you in the exact place your soul mark was.

Although there were some rules, the most prevalent being that a soulmate could touch you before both of your seventeenth birthdays and nothing would happen, and again after only one of you turned of age, but the colors would only light up after you both became adults. So, theoretically, you could have known your soulmate for ages before you ever discovered that your very souls were aligned.

Barty’s eyes drifted toward Evan, situated comfortably on his bed and looking for all the world like he belonged there. Something within him warmed at the sight.

“What do you think of it?” Barty asked. Evan’s looked back to the mark on his upper bicep.

“It’s certainly something,” he said. Some kind of emotion clouded his eyes, but he turned before Barty could figure out what it was. “Do you think his or yours will light up first?” Evan nodded toward the sleeping form in the bed next to them, closest to the wall. Barty could just make out a head full of curls, the rest completely buried under a blanket.

“Dunno,” he answered honestly. Of course, for all they knew, Regulus’s mark could’ve already been lit up. He had never shown them where his mark was, no matter how much they pestered him to show them. And believe him, they had tried.

But Barty didn’t say that, because somehow that felt a little rude. So instead he settled for a simple, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Like Dorcas,” Evan said.

Yes, like Dorcas, whose soulmate mark had remained black for two months after her birthday. It was just recently in a Quidditch game versus Gryffindor that hers had become colorful after a certain Marlene Mckinnon grazed her forearm while chasing after a bludger.

That had been quite a sight to see, both girls frozen in midair while the game raged on around them. Dorcas had been staring with wide eyes, and Marlene’s jaw had just about hit the ground a hundred feet below them.

The most ridiculous part was that they had agreed to shake it off for the moment and finish the game, causing an uproar in the stands as soon as they realized that they wouldn’t be getting a front row view to the drama they had been expecting. No, that had come after Slytherin lost by a mere 30 points and Dorcas and Marlene disappeared to hash out their differences. It had taken a while, but the two were now practically inseparable.

Admittedly, Barty’s eyes had gotten tired of seeing so much red and gold day in and day out. Marlene was a Gryffindor through and through and did not hesitate to let it show. Which Barty could admire, he supposed, if she belonged to an actual good house like Slytherin.

“If Regulus’s soulmate is another Gryffindor I might have to jump off of the Astronomy Tower,” Barty muttered.

Evan’s responding laugh from beside him put a smile on his own face, because there was no better feeling in the world than making Evan Rosier laugh a deep, real laugh, and not just the kind he used at fancy dinner parties whenever his parents’ friends made bad jokes. No, Evan’s real laugh was miles better than that ever would be, because his nose crinkled up and his face flushed and it really was a sight to behold.

Not that Barty would ever say that out loud.

“I’ll go with you,” Evan promised, reaching out a hand to ruffle Barty’s hair fondly. “Now come on, it’d be a shame to miss breakfast on your birthday.”

“You just mean it’d be a shame to miss a time where you can sing me Happy Birthday,” Barty accused, but he was grinning as Evan pulled him off the bed and into the start of another day.

(Part 2 is here)

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #dorlene my loves #rosekiller soulmate au #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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yelenasdiary · 1 year

Note

off topic i just had a thought of imagine yelena being a security guard/prison officer and reader is in jail for (something but they're the city's known inmate..) they get anonymous notes into their cell every night saying explicit things ;) and it turns out it's yelena cause she can't help herself..

no but the muscles and biceps yelena would have as a prison guard 😳

Dirty Little Notes

Pairing: Security Guard! Yelena x College Student! Reader

Summary: After weeks of receiving anonymous notes slipped under your door, the secret admire is finally caught red handed.

Warnings: Smut, 18+ ONLY! Men & Minors DNI! Daddy Kink, Dumbification Kink, Edging (Reader Receiving), BDSM (Gun Play), Use of Strap On, Squirting, Legal Age Gap (R 22, Y 30), Oral (Reader Receiving), Virgin/Innocent Reader, Possessive/Semi-dark & Pervy Yelena, Mentions of Masturbation, Loss of Virginity, Language Warning | 3.1K

Translations: Detka (baby), милый (darling), printsessa (princess), кукла (doll), ты такая красивая (you’re so pretty),

AC: Firstly, lets ignore my terrible edit & Secondly, Reader is maybe a little too innocent and I may or may not have gotten carried away….whoops!!

Finally, it was Friday and the only plans you had for the night were to be curled up in bed reading over your notes that you collected during the lectures you had during the day. Your best friend, Kate, teased you over your plans. Saying they were boring, and you needed to let the weekend be for relaxing, letting 'loose' and making memories. But you were more so on the organized side of things, you liked making Saturday and Sunday your days of relaxing and doing whatever you liked.

"I probably won't be back tonight" Kate spoke as she packed a few belongings into her backpack. She was going to get another frat party and would probably crash at one of her archer friends' dorms. You didn't mind at all; you study better by yourself anyways.

"Just be safe, please! Don't leave your drink unattended" you replied before taking a bite out of your oat bar. Kate groaned, "you sound like a mother, don't study too hard" She threw her bag over her shoulder and was out the door before you bothered to say another word, you just rolled your eyes and shook your head.

Little did Kate know, you did have something planned other than studying. For weeks, every Friday night a note is slipped under your door addressed to you. You've never caught who has been doing it but the explicit words on the paper had an effect on you. At first you thought they were creepy and disgusting and you would throw them away instantly but soon they became more explicit and you couldn't help yourself knowing they were turning you on.

It was when one of the notes mentioned your virginity that made you wonder who on earth the admirer was. Nobody knew that you were a virgin, not even Kate. You felt slightly embarrassed that you were still a virgin but you just never found somebody special enough to share that with.

The notes on the other hand, you began saving, you had them hidden in a show box under your bed. Only a few times have you re-read over them while your free hand was slipped into your underwear rubbing light circles around your clit as you pictured the mysterious person doing exactly what was inked on the paper. It made you feel dirty but even more so turned on and tonight, you wanted to catch the person leaving you such notes for your eyes to feast on. You set a tiny camera just outside your room and watched any action from an app on your phone, as you waited, you would read over your study notes.

A pair of black boots came to a stop at your door, the camera so and set up in the pot plant by your door, it was only able to get the legs and shoes of those passing by. Quickly and as quietly as you could, you threw your notepad to the side and almost pounced at your door. Opening it, you finally caught them in action on one knee read to slip another note under your door.

"It's been you?" you spoke in surprise as the blonde looked up at you, "y-you're a s-security guard" you added. The woman rose to her feet and smirked, "I guess you caught me" Her eyes worked their way up your body. Of course, you had a few ideas on who you thought would've been leaving you the notes, but never did it cross your mind that it would be the college's Russian security guard.

"Were you expecting somebody else, detka?" Yelena added, breaking your thoughts.

Yelena was a new security guard at the college, having roughly been working here for 4-5 months. She always smiled softly at you whenever you locked eyes with her, sometimes you noticed she followed you and Kate from a far until you both got back to your dorm, you just assumed she was just making sure you both got back safely but now you couldn't help but think that maybe she was only doing it to get close to you.

"Answer me, милый" Yelena brushed her index finger over your cheek, distracting you as she made herself welcome inside your room.

"N-no" you replied in a slight stutter as she closed the door behind her. Her eyes full of hunger as they dropped to your lips, "why d-did you write those things?" you asked. Yelena refreshed her lips, running her tongue over them.

"I couldn't help myself. You walk around this campus like a lost little puppy and all those outfits you wear? Don't even get me started on the how many times I had to stop myself from coming in her and giving you exactly what you want" the guard explained, watching how your eyes avoided hers and how you so badly wanted to trap your bottom lip between your teeth at her words.

"but" she went on, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, "then I realised, you're just an innocent little thing that needs me"

"N-needs you?" you looked at her for a brief second before letting your head slightly drop in embarrassment. Yelena lifted your chin up with her finger, looking deeply into your eyes ready to devour you in a second, "Tell me, did my little notes turn you on dekta?" she asked. Your eyes quickly shifted away from her, too embarrassed to answer. She smirked knowing you were too shy to answer her.

"Did you touch yourself to them detka?" The blonde's eyes dropped to your hands that played with the hem of your shirt with nerves before she gently cupped your chin with one hand, making you look at her once more, "answer me" she added bluntly. Your mind having a mind of its own nodded ever so gently at her question. Your actions only made the blonde want you more.

Slowly, she pressed her lips against yours making you gasp at first before melting into her lips. Her hands came down to your waist, pulling you closer into her, "do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly against your lips. As if your mind had a mind of its own, you shook your head making Yelena smirk once more before continuing to kiss you.

She wasted no time walking you backwards until the back of your legs came into contact with your bed, one of her hands wrapped around your wrist, pulling your hand to her crutch. "Do you feel that detka?" she asked with another devilish like smirk on her lips. You nodded, surprised that she was packing. "Good, because I need to get you nice a ready for my strap" she added before pushing you onto your bed, crawling on top of you to kiss your soft lips once more.

A light moan left your lips when the security guard's lips made their way to your neck. Nobody had ever kissed your neck before, let alone touched you as much as Yelena had already. Yelena stopped her actions and lent back, looking at you as she pulled her glock from its holster, "open that pretty mouth up for me, милый" she instructed as she brought the weapon to your lips. It frightened you at first but your mouth opened, obeying her words. The coldness of the glock caused you to close your eyes as the action sent a throb to your core.

"You really are just a dumb little кукла, aren't you?" Yelena asked with a chuckle as she watched you lay in front of her with her the top of her glock resting on your tongue, "suck it" she added rather bluntly. Your mind reminded you of the times when you were curious and watched a video of a woman giving a blow job to a strap on and naturally, your lips closed around the gun as you began to suck lightly, your salvia pooling from the corner of your lips.

Yelena watched as she straddled your waist, watching as you began to lose yourself in the moment, your clit throbbing with need to be touched, the wet patch on your panties only growing as you continued to swirl your tongue around the tip of the unloaded weapon. "Take this off, dekta" Yelena spoke, pulling your t-shirt up before you helped and removed the clothing, throwing it to the floor leaving you in your bra and pajama bottoms. Yelena couldn't help but lick her lips once more, "ты такая красивая" she whispered. You didn't understand Russian but you understood that hearing her talk to you in Russian only made you wetter for her.

Her lips trailed down your body while one of her free hand's removed her gun from your lips and placed it on your bedside table. You were slightly glad to have the taste of cold metal leave your lips, you watched as the blonde slowly began to remove your bottoms. Your cheeks turned red when Yelena smirked and looked up at you.

"You've ruined your panties, кукла" she said in a teasing tone, "don't tell me it's because you liked sucking on my gun" she added just to watch your cheeks darken in color. "Or is this all because of my little notes, huh?" Yelena went on. Embarrassment set in as you reached to hide your face only to be stopped by Yelena's grip on your wrist, "answer me" she added.

"P..p-please" you begged, not entirely sure what you were even begging for.

"What do you want huh? How can daddy help you if you don't tell me what you want" Yelena replied, letting go of your wrist.

"T..touch me, p-please" the words flew from your lips, your clit throbbing harder with every passing second.

"Please what?" Yelena smirked once more.

"D-daddy, please!"

"As you wish" she replied before pulling your panties off and throwing them to the floor with the rest of your clothing. She pushed your legs apart before looking up at you from between your legs. "If you cum, I stop, and I'll never touch you again. If you be a good little whore for daddy and cum when I say you can, I'll make sure you'll be sore the next two days, do you understand, or do I need to repeat myself?"

You nodded almost instantly at her words, "I understand" you replied hoping she would just dive into your pussy but of course, she didn't.

"Wrong answer!" Her jaw clenched.

"I u-understand daddy!" you corrected yourself rather quickly and with that, the security guard didn't waste another second before you felt her tongue slide through your folds making you moan at the feeling you'd never felt before. Your moans only grew with every flick of her tongue, the tip ever so slightly dipping into your pussy making you almost forget for a moment that you were a virgin. Her tongue worked wonders on your clit, kitty licks making your hole clench around nothing as you brought a hand to her head, trying to push her deeper into you.

"F-fuck!" you moaned, "feels s'good!" you added with a handful of the blonde's locks.

It didn't take Yelena long to work out your body, almost as if she had magic. She knew you were about to cum, that's when she stopped, licked her lips and began to kiss her way up your body to your lips once more. A soft moan left your lips at the sweet taste of yourself on her tongue, "why did you stop? Did I do something wrong, did I c-cum?" you asked with a light frown. Yelena's head tilted slightly to the left, her pupils widened, "have you never cum before?" she asked. You shrugged slightly, "I'm not too sure" you admit.

"Well then" Yelena bit her bottom lip as her right hand traveled down to your clit, "you're going to love it when you do" she added before rubbing light circles on your clit to tease you. Her touch made your eyes close as you moaned at the blonde teasing you. Your mind remembering some of the notes she left you, mentioning a few of the many things she so badly wanted to do you and without a second thought or control of your own words, you whimpered before whispering, "fuck me, daddy"

Yelena had you right where she wanted you, brainless and begging for her, just like she mentioned in her dirty little notes. She couldn't control the hungry smirk that tugged at her lips at your words, "yeah? You want daddy to fuck you huh?" she asked in an almost teasing tone. You nodded, "I n-need you, p-please daddy" you begged in between moans as she began to rub tighter circles around your clit, your untouched entrance clenching with hunger.

She worked your clit until your back arched and she knew you were close to cumming, she stopped instantly earning herself a groan of frustration from you as you looked at her, "p-please! I'll be good, I need you daddy!" You begged once more.

"What are you begging for huh? You're so stupid you don't even know if you've ever cum before, how do you know you need me huh?" Yelena spoke as she leant back taking in the view of your naked body in front of her. She was right, you had no idea what exactly you were begging for, you just knew you needed her.

"Like you s-said in the notes" you replied shyly, "I want that, please" you added. Yelena leant forward and kissed your lips softly before kissing your jaw line to your left ear, "I'll give you what you want but you're mine, do you understand? Nobody is allowed to touch you like I do" she whispered, sending a rush to your core, you nodded at her words. "Yours, I p-promise" you replied.

Knowing she had you the way she wanted, the way she wished every time she saw you walking from classes, she leant back and undid her pants letting her silicon cock spring for your eyes to widen at the size.

"T-that's big" you stuttered, slightly scared of how on earth it would ever fit inside of you.

"Don't worry your dumb little brain about that detka, it's only 9 inches and daddy will make sure it fits" she spoke as she used your arousal as a lube, running the trip of the toy between your folders, brushing over your clit earning herself a small moan from you. "But it'll h-hurt" you added in worry. Yelena nodded, "yes detka, it will but only for a moment then daddy will make sure you feel good again, do you trust me?" she looked up at you giving you a moment to relax before you nodded in reply.

"Daddy will take it nice slow" Yelena replied as the tip of her strap began to enter your pussy. Your fists were quickly full of your bedsheets, your eyes tightly closed shut as the burning feeling of your virginity being taken rushed through your body. Yelena was slow, only entering you inch by inch, tears pooling at your eyes but you didn't want her to stop. You felt her lips on yours once more, kissing you deeply to distract you from the pain, she whispered "you're almost there detka".

Within minutes, you were full, taking her entire toy. Yelena smiled softly at you, "you let daddy know when it's okay to move, okay?" she spoke, brushing your hair from your face while she stayed completely still inside you until you were comfortable for her to move her lips. The burning feeling faded to nothing, you refreshed your lips with your tongue and nodded while looking into her eyes, "I'm ready"

Yelena started slowly, thrusting in and out with both her hands interlocked with yours while her tongue explored in the inside of your mouth, muffling your moans as she worked you up to taking her thrusts faster.

"Feels s'good!" you moaned when she began to fuck into you harder, her hands now supporting her from crushing you while you brought your hands to her back, stretching up and down at the feeling she was giving you. "Fuck кукла, you're taking me so fucking well" Yelena praised. Your room was full of the sounds of your moans mixed with Yelena's thighs slapping against your skin as she brought you closer to your orgasm.

"D-daddy, s-stop!" you moaned, your hands trying to push her away at her thighs, "I need the toilet!" you added quickly as each thrust only made the feeling grow bigger.

"Shh, you don't need the toilet" Yelena brought her thumb to your clit making your back arch, "let it go detka, cum!" she added while you squirm to avoid breaking her only rule, don't cum unless she says. With her permission, your body let go and a flow gushed out of you when Yelena pulled out her strap, you moaned her name loudly with your back still arched and your head thrown back. She smiled proudly as she took in the view of your soaked pussy while you caught your breath.

"I'm s-sorry!" you spoke once you came down from your high, your eyes filled with worry that the security guard would be mad at you.

"Don't be sorry detka, daddy just fucked you so dumb you squirted" Yelena informed you as she rubbed her hands up and down your thighs seeing you spaced out from your intense orgasm, "What's wrong detka, did daddy fuck you stupid?" Yelena asked which a cocky smirk on her lips.

"Y-yes" you replied, closing your eyes as you soaked up the feeling of bliss that ran through your body, ignoring the slight pain you were feeling from her harsh thrusts into you.

"My dumb, perfectly little кукла" she spoke as stood up from your bed, "let daddy clean you up now" she added as she walked over to the small sink in your bathroom, given you had a suite-style dorm. She grabbed a cloth and soaked it in warm water before returning to you.

After she cleaned you up, she removed the fluffy throw blanket that was once folded neatly on the end of your bed and threw it with your removed clothes that sat on the floor. "Which drawer are your pyjamas in?" Yelena asked, too exhausted to use your words, you pointed to the third drawer of your dresser. Yelena got out one of your extra oversized t-shirts you used to sleep in and a fresh pair of panties before she helped you redress, "I wish I could stay detka, but my shift is about to start. I finished at 6am, I'll stop buy with breakfast, okay?" You heard her speak as she helped you into bed, pulling the covers over you. All you could bare to do was nod in reply before drifting off to sleep.

Yelena placed a soft kiss on your temple before leaving your dorm, making sure to lock the door from the inside of course.

#yelenasdiary asks #swaqcenix #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova smut #marvel #fanficiton #black widow #Security Guard! Yelena

381 notes · View notes

tinygarbage · 11 months

Text

Lovers Rock (A Halloween Special)

pairing: Joel Miller x College!f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: Joel's been your best friend since 6th grade. He graduated with you, but when you went to school, he joined his fathers contracting company. When your roommate invites you to a frat party for Halloween, hoping to set you up with her boyfriends friend, you drag Joel along.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, underage drinking, college parties, Joel is 20, reader is 18 (Joel was held back for kindergarten), frat boys, kissing, reader is a virgin, mutual pining, oblivious reader, not edited 😵‍💫

a/n: ok y’all, I’m not very happy with how this turned out, but I really like the idea I had so yk fuck it and ball. I just needed some mutual pining yk? I’m hoping to make multiple installments of this story but I’m not promising anything! Anyways enjoy even though there only a few hours left of Halloween:)

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

When Nessa proposed she wanted to set you up with her boyfriends frat mate, you didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that she was desperate to help you loose your virginity.

So, after a couple days of convincing, you give in. But not before calling your best friend to drag him along. You call Joel immediately after Nessa tells you about the party. He had been your best friend since 6th grade. You met him in math class and after pestering him for a piece of gum. When he finally gave in, you continued to pester him until you completely weaseled your way into his life. And since then, you had been inseparable.

You and Joel had watched each other go through countless crushes and relationships, but nothing stuck for either of you. Joel was a little more proactive, and had done a lot more than you had ever done. Including losing his virginity. But, you promised each other to keep each other in the loop. So here you are, last minute on the Wednesday before the party, waiting for him to pick up as the phone rings.

"Jo, hey." You say quickly after he picks up.

"What's up, Buttercup?" He says, panting slightly.

"You good?"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just at the job sight." He says, trying to catch his breath.

"Still? It's 7?" You frown, looking at the alarm on your desk.

"Yeah, Dad's got us cleaning and shit." He sighs, "so what's up?"

"Oh, yeah. Right." You laugh, "What are your plans Friday night?"

"Tommy's got a football game, but I can get out of it if you wanted to do something." He answers.

"There's a party. A Halloween party." You say, flipping a page of your textbook and start writing.

"Oh, y'know I'm not really into that kinda shit." He says. You can picture the little scowl he unintentionally does.

"Please? For me?" You whine.

"Why do you want me to go so bad, college?" He chuckled. You can imagine him standing at the job sight. Breathing heavy in his work pants and neon orange t-shirt. He'd be panting slightly, beads of sweat running down his forehead, curls messy and hands dirty from a tough day at work. His biceps bulging in the t-shirt and his thighs tight against the fabric of his pants.

"Nessa is trying to set me up with one of the football guys, I need my bodyguard just in case things get rocky." You says, the eraser of your pencil pressing against your lip as you read and talk,

"Nessa? Your roommate?" He asks. Joel and Nessa don't get along.

"Please, Jo." You drag out his nickname.

"I don't wear costumes." He says flatly.

"What if i buy you one?" You propose.

"You're not spending money on me." He argues.

"Wear dark clothes. I'll just get a mask or something." You suggest, "you don't even have to wear it, just hold it."

He sighs from the other line, "Fine. I'll wear dark clothes. And I'll be at your dorm at 7:30."

"Really?" You ask, smiling brightly as you look down at your desk with a smitten face.

"Really, Princess." That's what he called you whenever you got you way. It always made you feel like you had a little butterfly flying around your rib cage.

"Thank you. I love you." You giggle, going back to writing notes.

"Love you too, College." He says, you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you then?"

"See you then, Jo."

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The crowd is immediately overwhelming to Joel. As the group approaches the frat house, there a guy throwing up an the sidewalk. He's dressed as Luigi. His mustache lays crumbled at his feet while he groans. Joel automatically thinks of 3,001 excuses to get the hell out of there. But each excuse is thrown away after he thinks about you. What if something happens to you? So he stays. Stuffing part of the werewolf mask you bought into his back pocket. Reluctantly grabbing a beer from the huge cooler once you're inside and cracking it open. He watches as you and Nessa take out your own alcohol and soda can to make a mixed drink.

Earlier that night, he arrived at your dorm to see you all dolled up. A winged liner and a cherry red lipstick being the most notable out of your makeup look. For him at least. You were wearing a white, pirate styled shirt with a worn brown vest. In a material that made Joel cringe slightly. Your skirt was fluffy, and short, exposing your thighs in the cold air. You wore converse, just like he had. You were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Shoving a cheap werewolf mask into his hands, thanking him for wearing exactly what you had told him. Which was a navy crewneck and dark denim. He was your big bad wolf.

He sighs, standing beside them, feeling wildly out of place. You had brought him to the same frat before. After a Longhorns game. An invitation reached out by Nessa and her boyfriend who was in the frat. But before then, he was drinking and it was easier to make conversation about football, and not his shitty costume. He swallows his pride and watches you giggle with your bad influence of a roommate. Or so he believed her to be.

You turn to see him staring, throwing a crooked smile in his direction before taking a long sip of your drink. Which had mostly alcohol and a drop of Dr Pepper. "Can you hold my soda, Joel?" You ask, with your usual puppy eyes and fake pout.

He grumbles and grabs it from you, double fisting a Busch lite and your Dr Pepper. While holding your soda and following you around, all Joel could think about were his little brothers words. 'You're the boyfriend with absolutely no benefits.' And Joel couldn't deny it any longer. He helped move you into your dorm, he picks you up when you drink too much with Nessa, he holds you when your shitty boyfriends screw you over, and he holds your drinks at parties so you can flirt with other guys. And he gets nothing but a 'thanks Joel! You're the best!'

It took him way too long to realize that he's the friend zone king. He sits on its shitty throne next to the guy who says 'Where's my hug?' His stomach churns. His throat burning hot and his head is spinning.

"Nessa said Kayden and Theo are on the lawn." You shout over the music into Joel's ear, the proximity making his heart jump.

"The hell are they doin' out there?" He asks back.

"Keg-stand, fucking idiots." You grumble and Joel laughs, agreeing. Which earns him a glare from Nessa. To which he sticks his tongue out back.

Nessa grabs onto you, leading you out towards the lawn. You immediately grab onto Joel's forearm and drag him with you two. He sighs, downing half of his beer as he walks with you to the lawn. A sea of drunk college students dressed in silly or slutty costumes litter the lawn. Nessa's boyfriend, Theo, is in the middle of a keg stand, and Kayden is cheering from the side with a jug full of alcohol. God, Joel wanted to lose his shit and bang on his chest in pure anger. You were nervous about that fucker?

You look to Joel with an uneasy smile, he doesn't return it. "How do I even communicate with him?" You ask Joel.

"You run away as fast as you can," he gives you an unimpressed look as he says it. He's not joking.

You give him an exaggerated eye roll and shake your head. "You told me you'd be good for advice, Miller."

"That's my best advice, Princess," he says easily, crossing his arms over his chest. His beer can lazily hanging in his fingertips. Which are lightly gripping the top.

You swallow, watching as Kayden chugs an impressive amount of whatever alcohol was mixed in the jug of what used to be Arizona tea. "I guess I should probably introduce myself."

Joel's jaw clenches as he watches you go, wanting to grab you and shake sense into you. What could you possibly see in that guy? What could possibly be romantic about a arizona jug with a unexplained green liquid sloshing around inside it? What could possibly be attractive about the piss-water beer he was spilling all over himself. With one tight squeeze, he crashes the can, wandering away to find a recycle bin.

He heads back inside reluctantly, chewing the inside of his cheek while his mind churns out a million scenarios where you turn out hurt. Or someone else's. A huff escapes his lips as he tosses the can into the recycle bin and immediately heads into the kitchen for another. In the kitchen, there's a group of other Mario characters. Joel clocks them as Luigi's group. He wonders if they know poor Luigi is puking his guts out.

Laughing to himself, he cracks open a second beer and leans against the counter, observing as people come and go from the kitchen. He sips slowly, judging people's costumes, laughter, and their drunken speeches. He wonders how people got drunk so fast, or if him and your group really arrived as late as Nessa made it seem. He sets his beer down next to him, still holding onto your Dr Pepper. His hand covering the open top. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a princess peach approaching. Her dress short, and white knee high boots. Her blonde hair was curled and she had a tiny crown on her head. She looked good.

"You're bleeding." She says, pointing to his empty hand. Looking down, he realized he must've cut himself while crushing his can in his earlier frustration.

He looks back up with a slow blink, "thanks." He grumbles, not really sure what to say, "you know if they keep a first aid kit in this dump?"

Peach laughs with a nod, moving past him and looking under the sink. She grabs out a small, red first aid kit. Joel sets down your Dr Pepper. He moves to the sink, washing off the blood from the small, deep cut. He rips a paper towel from his freehand and dabs the cut. Once he's finished, Peach put a paw patrol bandaid on the left side of his palm, where the cut is.

"All fixed, soldier." She says with a giggle.

"Thanks," he says, inspecting the bandaid made for children, "oh, and if you're missing a Luigi, he's out on the lawn. Buddy seems like he's had a rough night.

Peach let's out a loud giggle, Joel flinches at the sound. "Oh, that's just Damon. He's been drinking since noon."

"Since noon?"

"Yeah, it's normal i promise." She says, her hand falling onto his bicep as she laughs. She squeezes it lightly and his eyes widen slightly.

Joel shifts, not really sure how to handle a unwanted touch from a stranger. Her hand dropped as soon as it came. He let out a huff in relief, shifting his converse against the kitchen tile. "He should probably stop drinkin' so much." He said awkwardly.

Peach shrugs, "it's college."

At the tail end of their conversation, you slip into the kitchen. You're red hood is down now, and your solo cup is completely empty. Having been downed after you listens to Kayden tell you about football through a slurred voice. After realizing there was no chance of social resuscitation, you head inside to find Joel. Hopefully getting the hell out of there. You walk through the sliding glass door and through the dining room. When you reach the kitchen you stop in you tracks at the sight of Joel.

As you stand there, a realization creeps up on you. You've seen this film. You've seen it a thousand times. Every time you've entered a room, you've watched it play. A perfect play through every single time. Joel stands against the kitchen counter with another beer in his hands. He's grumbling something to a girl dressed as Princess Peach. As she laughs at what he said, her delicate hand slaps his bicep, grabbing onto it as she leans forward and lets out a flirtatious giggle. You watch him blink slowly, realizing whatever he said to the girl wasn't a joke. He wasn't trying to be funny.

Continuing to watch, you stand in the entrance. He stands up from where he was leaning on the counter, no longer relying on it to hold him up. You watch as he slams his second beer, your Dr Pepper still in his right hand. His hand is covering the top. Another few blinks and his whiskey eyes are on you.

Everything from there feels like a total cliche. He turns away from Princess Peach, eyes still on you. He mutters a farewell. You watch him closely as he stares you down. He's crossing the room, eyes fixated on your form. The white pirate-styled top, and the brown vest. His eyes fall to the short red skirt and the beat up converse on your feet. The noise around you cancels out into merely a whisper, your heartbeat gets faster as you realize what's happening to you. No, what's happened. What's always been there. What is becoming so painfully obvious that you physically can't keep up with the way your brain spins.

He's there and everyone else is just an obstacle. Blocking you from running to him. You wonder if that's how it's been this whole time. If your own stupidity and oblivious nature has been your obstacle this whole time. If this moment was destined since you had plopped a boat made out of the gum wrapper from the gum he gave you on his desk in 6th grade. You wonder if had he asked you to homecoming instead of Charlie Winkler, would you have already realized it. Would you have already realized that there's absolutely no one in this world that makes you feel the way he does?

As he gets closer, fire spreads through your body, and suddenly he's grabbing your wrist. He says something, but you're locked into a shock induced state. You completely zone out as his face leans closer. Your eyes take in his thick, furrowed brow and the slight scrunch on his forehead. His lips are downturned and you suddenly realize how long it's been since he's shaved. His stubble much longer than he had ever kept it before.

"Hey, you good?" His smooth drawl snaps you back into reality, he's waving a large hand in front of your face, "Earth to College."

You blink a few times, "Joel. Hi." You choke out awkwardly, staring at him.

"You good? Where's Kyle?"

"Kayden." You correct, throwing out your solo cup. Then grabbing the Dr Pepper from his hands and throwing that out too.

"Same thing," he shrugs, "Where is he?"

"I wasn't into him." You say quickly, "Wanna get some air? I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

He immediately looks concerned, his hand landing on the small of your back, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

You nod quickly, "I'm fine, i promise. C'mon, let's go upstairs."

You grab his hand and lead him out to the living room and up the stairs of the frat. He follows behind, holding onto your hand tightly. He looks behind and around himself, not really knowing what to expect. Or what people would think about people heading into the bedroom of a frat member without said frat member being present.

You reach a door with Theo's name on it. Carefully, you peak your head in. Once you know it's clear of horny and drunk college students, you open the door fully. Joel steps through, looking around at the slightly messy room.

"You're sure we can be up here?" Joel says, awkwardly shifting his weight as you plop down on Theo's bed.

"He said I could use it if i needed too." You smile, playing with the hem of your skirt.

He just nods, converse dragging slightly on the rug under his feet and towards the bed. As he sits down slowly, you listen to the muffled music from the yard. A shitty, yet classic, Pitbull song plays and you hear drunken screams. You ignore it, not wanting to focus on anything else but the overbearing scent of Joel's teakwood cologne. The one you got him for his 20th birthday. How was he so perfect?

"So, that kid didn't catch your interest?" Joel asks, his sweaty hands rubbing on the denim covering his thighs.

"He smelled like wet pennies," you laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

He laughs with you. It's thunderous sound, one you've always been incredibly fond of. You giggle slightly, a lovesick haze clouding your brain as he looks over to you. For a moment, it's quiet between you both. A complete contrast to the chaos outside. Both of your breathing the only sound left in the room. His eyes flicking from your eyes to your cherry red lips. He snaps out of his daze, looking forwards, "I think if someone told me I smelled like pennies, I'd cry." He says teasingly, nudging your knee.

"You don't smell like pennies." You lean closer.

"Promise?"

"Promise." You nod, giggling as you lean your head on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around you, rubbing your shoulder over your smooth red cape. The hood tangled in the back from ripping it off your head after Kayden accidentally spilled his unidentified alcohol beverage on it earlier. You nuzzle your head on his muscular shoulder, inhaling his strong scent. His navy crewneck is soft against your cheek as you look down at the dark denim on his strong thighs.

You both sit in silence for a few moment, the tension in the air getting thicker as the seconds tick by. Eventually, you get restless. Your voice cuts through the quiet room as you lift your head up slightly to look up at him. "You want to stay with me in the dorms tonight?" You ask softly.

"I would love that." he says softly, leaning forward and placing his forehead on yours. His hand reaches to grab your wrist as it sits on your lap. He rubs your wrist slowly, running across a prominent vein that meets your palm.

Suddenly, his free hand wraps around the back of your head, gently and quickly pulling you in. Before you can process whats happening, his lips press against yours. You melt into the kiss without another thought. His hand slides down and holds your face, his other hand dropping your wrist and reaching up behind your head. His long fingers running through your hair as you kiss. Your hands lay on his chest, squeezing him slightly when he pressed deeper. The kiss turns to into a heavy make out as he starts getting a bit carried away at the taste of your cherry lipstick. The kiss gets sloppy, making you squeeze your thighs together from the sudden burn between your legs. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, his hands on your hips. He's looking down at you with rosy cheeks. "Was that okay?" His voice was soft.

You pant softly, your lips swollen from his passionate kiss. "Mhm," you nod.

He quickly steals another kiss from you, shifting to face you. You go right back to making out again. He has a tight hold on your waist with one hand. His left hand traveling up to your back. You hold yourself up on the bed with your hand spread behind you. Your arm is thrown over his shoulder and around the back of his neck. His tongue pushes against yours, pulling you in for a kiss. It lasts for a few seconds that seem to be last a lifetime. His hand grips tighter at your waist, breathing heavily after he eventually broke the kiss. "I want you.." He whispers. His eyes are heavy and he's gazing at you in a way you didn't believe was possible.

"I'm yours." You whisper without another thought, smiling.

He pulls himself even closer, slowly and gently lying you down before leaning on top of you. He places his hand flat on your spine, whilst his other hand goes to your thigh. He kisses your neck and collarbone, the taste of your skin driving him crazy. For a moment, he loses himself in the taste, before he begins to wonder if you're feeling alright. He pauses again, letting himself catch breath before checking on you. "Are you comfortable? Do you want to continue this?"

You nod, your fingers playing with the curls on the back of his neck. His hand is on your thigh, rubbing it lightly. "Yeah, I'm comfortable." You nod softly.

He beams, a slight huff of excited laughter hitting your face. "You'll let me know if it's too much?" He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Mhm." You hum, pushing his head down to continue the kiss. He happily accepts the invitation, squeezing your thigh gently as his other arm is still wrapping under you as you lay on Theo's bed.

You both make out for a few more minutes. The touches become more and more heated with each second. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hand travels up your thigh to rest on your hip underneath your skirt. A small moan rumbles against his lips as your back arched slightly against the mattress. His finger loops under the band of underwear on your hip.

As he begins to tug slightly, the door flys open and you and Joel rip apart from each other. Joel hops off the bed, scratching the back of his neck as his other hand travels to his front pocket. A poor attempt to hide the bulge in his jeans. You sit up on the bed, fixing your skirt and hair as you both look at the door.

Theo and Nessa stand at the door, their jaws dropped open at the sight in front of them. “No way,” A drunken Nessa giggled, covering her mouth.

“Nessa! Hi!” You squeak, getting up from the bed as the two drunken vampires giggle.

Joel’s face is beet red as his hands are stuck into his front pockets. You look over to see red lipstick smudged on his lips, some even in his stubble. You got hit with embarrassment, using your thumb to wipe around your lips to wipe off any smudged lipstick. “We were just getting some air.”

“More like sharing some air,” Theo laughs.

“Go back to the dorms,” Nessa smirks. “I’ll be here tonight.”

Instead of arguing you nod, grabbing onto Joel’s arm and leading him out of the room. The door closes behind you and you both look at each other in awe and embarrassment.

“Dude.” You breath out, a slow smile creeping onto your lips.

“That…” he tries to find words in his flustered state, “that was awkward.”

You both laugh, leaning into each other in a post make out haze. He tugs you into his arms for a moment, pulling you close as he rubs your back slowly. He presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before pulling apart again.

“Should we head to your dorm?” He asks softly, biting the inside of his lip.

You smirk, grabbing his wrist. “C’mon, cowboy.”

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

moot tags: @annasinterests @ilovepedro @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @nostalxgic @bastardmandennis

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #contractor!joel miller #college!reader #childhood best friends to lovers #joel miller x f!reader

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