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mountainsandmayhem · 6 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

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yanderelovebites · 24 days ago

Text

Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

#batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #yandere batfam #batsis #yandere #damian wayne

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amomentsescape · 10 months ago

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OooooO! Could I get a Slasher X reader! Like where another "rival" Slasher gets interested in another Slasher's So?

When Another Slasher Becomes Interested in Reader

Brahms Heelshire x Reader

A/N: I decided to not go into specifics on who the "rival" slasher was since it would have involved a lot of background and explanation on why they were in the UK in the first place.

Brahms's jealousy and possession over you knows no bounds

He doesn't even want you within a 3 foot radius of the man whose only job is to drop off groceries

He enjoys having you all to himself, living in the middle of nowhere with only him as your company

He may be the one who needs to be taken care of, but that's not to say that he doesn't want you to rely on him too

He has always wanted you to seek out his protection

He loves to see you curl up beside him and just fully relax in his presence

In fact, Brahms is never satisfied unless he is fully enveloping you with an iron grip, making sure nothing else can touch you and you can't sneak away

So when the feelings of paranoia began, Brahms went into a frenzy

He triple checked the locks on all the doors and windows every single night

He set up a security system to prevent anyone from breaking in

He even stopped hiding within the walls during the day and instead spent 24/7 right next to you

You questioned his sudden change in behavior

He told you he could feel someone watching you two

He could tell that you weren't really alone anymore

This freaked you out a bit

Brahms may be childish, but he's not stupid

You began to trust his word a bit more after that

It wasn't until one day that you decide to slip out of the house for a couple minutes

Brahms refused to let you outside or to even open a window the past few weeks, and this was beginning to wear on you

The cool air immediately calmed you down, and you began to question what he was so worried about in the first place

But right as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a branch snap beside you

You immediately turned and saw a masked man standing there, his height towering over you

He had a massive blade in his hand that sent a shiver down your spine

In that moment, you knew you should have listened to Brahms

You turned to run, but the Slasher was faster

He grabbed you by the jaw and turned you towards him, forcing you to look at him

To your surprise, his grip loosened slightly as he began to rub his thumb along your cheek

The feeling was familiar in a way to what Brahms would do sometimes

But that didn't make the moment any less terrifying

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he kept a firm hold on you

Just when you were about to call out for Brahms, the Slasher was slammed to the ground

You could see Brahms and the Slasher in a tussle, rolling around in the dirt while the sound of hard hits and cracking knuckles echoed throughout the quiet forest

You were worried for Brahms since the other Slasher was just as tall and strong as he was

But to your surprise, Brahms got the upper hand

He slammed his fist over and over again onto the man's mask, causing it to crack and splinter into his skin

This distracted him for just long enough that Brahms could grab a large rock, forcing it straight into the man's forehead

All movement ceased, and Brahms sat there, breathing heavily

When he finally turned to you, you slowly walked over to make sure he was okay

Before you could even say a word, Brahms had you pinned to a tree

His hands snaked along your waist as he pulled you flush against him

His lips were on yours in a hurry, his kisses hungrier than you had ever felt them before

He'll most definitely lock you back inside the house for the foreseeable future after this, but at least for now, you can just relish in his possessiveness and desire

#slashers x reader #slashers #slashers preference #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slasher movies #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire headcanon

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pearl-nouveau · 6 months ago

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A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not.

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life.

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become.

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal.

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain.

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you.

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing.

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it.

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor...

Strong boys, they said.

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would.

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me.

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long.

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?"

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization.

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me.

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival.

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time.

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was.

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me.

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me.

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was.

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?"

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity."

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?"

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort.

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children."

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders.

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day.

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes.

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles.

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen.

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights.

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head.

"Lost in thought?"

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of."

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all.

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled.

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please."

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice.

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me.

#hotd #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark oneshot #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark fanfiction

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vantaeries · 9 months ago

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YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE : PICK A PILE

FIRST IMPRESSION VS AFTER THEY KNOW YOU

PILE 1 PILE 2

PILE 3 PILE 4

Hello everyone ! I'm Rin! I'm an intuitive tarot reader. It's been almost one and a half since I've been learning about tarot, divination and astrology so I decided to channel general reading for everyone! It's my first public reading ever, so hopefully you like it

Disclaimer : This is a general reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Remember, the energies can change from time to time. So pick wisely.

How to pick : Close your eyes, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Trust your intuition and choose a pile that you are most drawn to.

PILE 1

At first, they see you as a person they are willing to risk it all for. Anyone who doubts you, your FS is willing to go up against anyone for you. They see someone who is strong for learning from your past mistakes. Due to this, they see you as someone they somewhat fear. 'I want to know them, but what if they reject me? What if they misinterpret my intentions toward them?' They feel stuck. One moment they want to approach you, but then they are afraid to because you are intimidating to them.

After they get to know you better, they start to see you as someone who brings a lot of excitement into their life. They are obsessed and passionate about you! Don't be surprised if they start to become more flirtatious and clingy. Your presence brings a lot of transformative experiences and forces them to step out of their comfort zone or remain stuck in the past.

PILE 2

They think you're driven and hardworking, focused on your future. But because you're so into your work, they feel a bit distant from you and wonder if you're really right for them. Still, they're hopeful they can break down your walls and get to know you better.

As they learn more about you, they realize you're the one they've been searching for. You make their life feel magical, and they're falling for you even more. They start to see they misjudged you at first and want to take their time to be sure. They like you a lot, but they need a bit more time before committing fully. Until then, they see this relationship moving towards something serious, like getting engaged or married.

PILE 3

This person is clearly infatuated with you and sees you as their perfect match. However, they may place unrealistic expectations on you, causing you stress with their demands. They come across as somewhat obsessed with you, finding you incredibly attractive and wanting to exert control. Yet, you stand firm in your strength and maturity, refusing to be manipulated.

When they realize they can't easily sway you, they may begin to distance themselves and keep secrets. You don't need to rescue or change them; instead, show them your strength and worth. As they reflect on their mistakes and change for the better, they'll come to understand and appreciate you more deeply

PILE 4

They view you as an option among several others, still undecided on whether to approach you. Oh! They are a player. You are unapproachable to them because you are playing hard to get but it's just you want to enjoy your single phase. They don't have any strong feelings towards you until they learn more about you. It was your personality that made them attracted to you.

Your strong personality intrigues them, prompting a sense of urgency to pursue you before someone else does, possibly leading to impulsive decisions. It's possible this attraction is one-sided, as some of you may be content with your single status and not anticipate their advances, potentially resulting in rejection. Nonetheless, they're determined not to give up and will strive to impress you, especially in terms of financial achievements, hoping to change your perception of them. They feel insecure and jealous seeing you with others, fearing they may fall short of your standards, prompting them to work hard to improve themselves.

Take care y'all

#tarot reading #tarot #tarot community #free tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #tarotblr #divination #future spouse

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kitten4sannie · 8 months ago

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for love of the game (teaser)

pairing: rival team! wooyoung x rival! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, bsf fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

future tag warnings (may be subject to change): tobacco/vape usage, baseball lingo?? idk, nasty mean dom! wooyo, perverted soft dom! yuyu, subby! (tiny bit bratty) reader, light brat taming, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, biting/marking, tag teaming, manhandling, size kink, oral (giving), deep-throating, spit kink, finger sucking, hair tugging, nasty hate sex against some lockers, sloppy seconds, breeding kink, creampies, dumbification

w.c: 1.6k (so far) while this teaser is about 500?? words

a/n: i love a good sports au (despite my inability to play any) fhwhwh so i’ve decided to write a nasty lil baseball fic for you all~ the parasites told me to >:)) 🖤 so here’s a teaser!!! it’s a pretty big one hehe. and if you’d like to join this specific taglist (if you’re not on my general taglist) please click on the tiny heart at the bottom of the post :33 enjoyyy~~

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself.

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses.

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?”

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?”

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.”

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.”

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, until hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it past the playoffs.”

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago.

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face.

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites.” He chuckled to himself. “I bite too.”

Wooyoung hummed in response, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to the busy field, then back up to Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she? And she’ll let you hit right after the game, right?”

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the deep bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive, he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right?

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand on Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.”

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-induced determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?”

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to show Y/N just how disgusting I can get.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #wooyoung smut #yunho smut #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #kpop smut

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larluce · 2 months ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

(My apologies in advance, I couldn't write the smut, but I know exactly how it went, so you may ask me any questions related to their first time in the comments)

Merlin is no strange to waking up next to Arthur. He's been sleeping in his bed for over a week after all. They also slept next to each other back in the farm, back in Ealdor and everytime they camped outside.

Waking up curled up together after they have given theirselfs to one another, in body and soul, is an entire different experience. He wakes up with a smile plastered on his face. He feels like in a dream, floating, but also like falling. It's the kind of feeling is so overwhelming it's painful, but it's painfully pleasant.

Arthur's arms are around him, his naked chest against his back. Merlin turns in his arms slowly, needing to see him, needing to make sure that it happened, that this is real. The pain in his lower back as he moves is enough to confirm it though.

Merlin: (groans in pain)

Arthur: (opens his eyes slowly and then smiles) Hey.

Merlin: Don't "hey" me. You destroyed me!

Arthur: (chuckles) I don't recall you complaining. In fact, I clearly remember you constantly crying for more.

Merlin: Shut up!

Arthur: And changing positions was not my idea.

Merlin: I just wanted to be more comfortable!

Arthur: I'm just saying, I wanted to be gentle and you didn't let me.

Merlin: Yeah, because I totally forced you. My mistake. (tries to get up, but Arthur's arms are steel around him) Arthur.

Arthur: (eyes closed) Uhm?

Merlin: I have to get your breakfast.

Arthur: Let someone else do it.

Merlin: (chuckles) How can I tell someone else to do it if stay here?

Arthur: Then get it later.

Merlin: I also have chores to do.

Arthur: No, I give you the day off. Sleep.

Merlin: Gaius may need me.

Arthur: Sleep.

Merlin: (smiling) Alright.

Merlin wishes he could stay like this forever. Eventually though, Merlin has to get up and Arthur too.

Merlin slightly limping around the castle doesn't go unnoticed to anybody, nor Arthur smug smile everytime he catches Merlin limping. Already used to the rumors and the eyes on him, Merlin can't mind less though.

It turns out he should have.

In Arthur's chambers. Leon knocks on the door, but no one answers, so he enters.

Leon: (entering) Your highness, I'm sorry for entering like this but- (notices no one is there) He must still be in the meeting with the king. (notices there are flowers petals on the floor and spots a chemise on the floor) ... what? (walks to it and picks it up. Sighs in dissapointment) So the rumors are true.

Merlin: (enters)

Leon: (Quickly hides the chemise behind his back)

Merlin: Leon? What are you doing here?

Leon: I-I was looking for the Prince.

Merlin: (rolls his eyes) He's still discussing with Uther how to execute Kendrick for what he attempted to do to Morgana, or rather dicussing ways to torture him before the execution. They'll probably just let Morgana decide his punishment in the end. (notices Leon is holding something behind his back) What do you have there?

Leon: (too quickly) Nothing! 😅

Merlin: ... Okay? Normally I would run around you until you show me, but, I'm too sore and tired for that. (about to start tidying up the room)

Leon: What are you doing?

Merlin: Cleaning?

Leon: Didn't Arthur give you the day off?

Merlin: He did, but knowing him he'll probably just let this room dirty and messy until tomorrow, so I rather do it at once before it accumulates.

Leon: I'll call other sevants to do it!

Merlin: Is not really a problem-

Leon: I insist! You rarely have a day off, you should enjoy it as much as you can.

Merlin: (unsure) Arthur doesn't like other servants cleaning his chambers.

Leon: He doesn't have to find out it wasn't you. And if he does, I'll tell him it was my idea. Go enjoy your free day, you deserve it.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Leon! You are such a good friend. (leaves)

Leon: (sighs in relief, but also feels bad) No, I'm not a good friend... (searches around the room for whatever thing could give away Arthur's affair, while he talks to himself) He's been limping since this morning, but if Arthur slept with this lady last night, then when...or could it be... (opens his eyes wide) WAS HE WITH BOTH?! 😨

Time skip. In the stables.

Princess: (neighs happily as he watches Merlin aproaching)

Merlin: Princess! (caresses her head) How's my Baby Plum doing? Have they been feeding you well? I missed you so much! (joins their heads fondly)

Lancelot: (who was close by, aproaches) Seriously, how do you do it? She's only ever this sweet with you.

Merlin: I don't know. Maybe is my weird connection to nature.

Lancelot: (pauses) It was the trees who warned you about the bandits, wasn't it? Back in the woods.

Merlin: (nods) Their voices are... stronger everyday. It's not bad, just... weird. Sometimes they talk to me as if...

Lacelot: As if what?

Merlin: As if I was one of them.

Knight x: (passing by) Lowering your standars now that the Prince replaced you, I see.

Merlin: What?

Knight x: (just laughs and leaves)

Merlin: (turns to Lancelot) What is he talking about?

Lancelot: (nervous) Uh...

Merlin: (crosses his arms) Lance, what is he talking about? 😑

Lancelot: Well... you know how you and Arthur weren't exactly discret when you showed affection to one another yesterday?

Merlin: Yes, we are always like that.

Lancelot: Yeah, the problem is that yesterday you weren't you. You were Lady Merelyn, remember? So... they think Arthur cheated on you with her.

Merlin: WHAT?! 😨

Lancelot: Look. I don't have all the details. You know I don't really enjoy gossip. But, as far as I know, most of the nobels are making fun of you, the servants pity you. Oh, and the Unicorn Catcher defenders are diminishing Arthur's affair, saying you are still the favourite, though they dread you could lose your position.

Merlin: I see...(sighs) They like gossip, uh? (grins) I'll give them gossip.

Meanwhile. Arthur walking in a hallway, encounters Leon.

Arthur: Oh, Leon. Have you seen Merlin?

Leon: I encountered him in your chambers about an hour ago, sire, but I don't know where he could be now.

Arthur: Thank you-wait, what were you doing in my chambers.

Leon: I needed to speak to you privatly, sire. About... an urgent matter.

Arthur: Which is?

Leon: I... well... (sighs, frustrated and starts pacing)

Arthur: (between confused and worried) Is... everything alright?

Leon: (stops pacing a turns to Arthur with decision) May I speak freely, my lord?

Arthur: Uhm... sure. Go ahead.

Leon: You are my Prince, but you are also my friend. You earned my oath and my repect, not just because of your title, but because I grew up with you and I got to know the kind of man you are. For years I admired your honorability, your honesty and your loyalty.

Arthur: Thank you, that's a really nice thing to say. But what does it have to do with-

Leon: But I'm not seeing this man right now!

Arthur: ... I beg your pardon?

Leon: When the knights and visiting nobels said you'd start sleeping with other people eventually, I never once believed it! Because I've seen your love and devotion for Merlin from the start! I believed you uncapable, because I thought you valued honor and fidelity. But I guess I was wrong.

Arthur: What on earth are you talking about?

Leon: Of your affair with Lady Merelyn!

Arthur: (finally understanding) Ooh! (laughs)

Leon: You think this is funny, my lord?

Arthur: No, no! It's just. Leon, you got it all wrong. I was never unfaithful to Merlin.

Leon: Really? (pulls out the chemise) Then what was this undergarment doing in your chambers, Sire?

Arthur: Okay, I guess it does look bad. But I swear is not what it looks like-

Leon: You don't own me an explanation, Sire. And I won't tell Merlin anything because my loyalty stays with you above else. But I fear everyone in the castle already knows of your affair, so if you don't want Merlin finding out by other source, you better be honest with him. (bows) Sire (leaves)

Arthur: (shouts) Leon, is not- (cuts himself, thinking) Wait, I shouldn't tell him before I consult it with Merlin first. And I don't think he would believe my word even if I explain.

Time skip. In the training field, Arthur about to start training with the knights.

Merlin: (arrives with a serious face, wearing his old clothes)

Knights: (look at him with mockery)

Knight x: (whispering) You see that?

Knight y: (whispering) That's why you can't rely on affection to get you up the ladder. The higher you are, the harder the fall will be.

Arthur: (turns and smiles) Merlin! I've been looking everywhere for... (notices Merlin's wearing his old clothes and frowns) Why are you wearing that?

Merlin's wardrove has improved since Arthur's been gifting him better clothing from time to time. Nothing too extravagant, Arthur made sure the clothes matched Merlin's simple style, but they are elegant enough to let everybody know about Merlin's status as his lover. Before, Merlin would wear them just in especial events or ocassions and it was when they finally got together that he started wearing them more often. So seeing Merlin in his old clothes is... unsettling.

Merlin: These are my clothes, my lord.

Arthur: You have better clothes now.

Merlin: The ones you gifted me, I'm aware.

Arthur: Then why aren't you wearing them?

Merlin: The thing is, my lord, I don't want anything from you.

Knights: 😧😧😧😧😧😧😧😧

Servants around: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Arthur: (very confused) What?

Merlin: (face contorts in rage and hurt) You thought I would never find out of your affair?! How could you do this to me?!

Arthur: (nervous and very scared) Merlin, I swear is not what 😰-wait, you already know! 😠

Merlin: And you have the nerve to say it so lightly! (covers his face and pretends he's crying) I thought you loved me!

Arthur: (in panic) I do! (runs to him) Merlin, the lady they're talking about, you must know it's- (about to put a hand on his shoulder)

Merlin: (gets his hands off his face and shouts) Don't touch me! If you want to have more lovers so be it, but I don't want you to touch me ever again! We are over! 😡 (leaves dramatically)

Arthur: Merlin! (runs after him)

Knight y: It seems the lady didn't catch his attention for long.

Knight x: How can the prince stoop to running after him?

Knight z: So… is the training cancelled?

Meanwhile, in some hidden place of the castle.

Merlin: (enters)

Arthur: (right behind him) Merlin, please listen to me! Is not-

Merlin: (turns) Are we alone?

Arthur: (more confused) What?

Merlin: There's no one here, right?

Arthur: No, I don't think so.

Merlin: Oh, good. (relaxes)

Arthur: (takes his hands) Merlin, I would never EVER cheat on you. I love you too much for that. You must have heard wrong! The lady they are talking about-

Merlin: Is Lady Merelyn.

Arthur: Yes, and... wait, you know?! 😨

Merlin: Of course I know! I'm not stupid. I know you would never cheat on me.

Arthur: (in relief) Oh... okay...(shouts, furious) THEN WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?! 😡

Merlin: Shh! Not so loud, you're going to ruin it!

Arthur: Ruin what?

Merlin: The act.

Arthur: Act?

Merlin: My offended lover act.

Arthur: Again. What?

Merlin: Everyone thinks you cheated on me with Lady Merelyn. Obviously, I can't tell them I impersonated a Lady. They would make more fun of me and your dad would have me killed for sure. But I can't have them thinking you are losing interest in me or that I don't have any kind of dignity either, so... I decided to give them a show. 💁‍♂️

Arthur: And you didn't think of giving me a warning before making your show? I thought you were actually leaving me!

Merlin: (feeling bad, holds Arthur's face with one hand fondly) I'm sorry, I really didn't want to scare you, but I needed your reaction to be genuine. You are not as good at lying as me.

Arthur: (thinking) You'd be surprised... (sighs, still kind of mad, but puts his hand over Merlin's) You do realize your show consists in making me look like a scoundrel, right?

Merlin: Nobody thinks you are scoundrel.

Arthur: Leon thinks it.

Merlin: Well, he is the only one. (gets his hand off Arthur's face and sighs, crossing his arms and with slumped shoulders) Everyone else thinks you have the right to have all the lovers you want. That I should be grateful that you still show any interest in me at all after "Lady Merelyn"... And they are right. After all, you are the Prince and I just a servant.

Arthur: That's not true!

Merlin: It is true. But is not the only thing we are. And yet that's the only thing they see.

Arthur: And since when do you care what other people say or think?

Merlin: (explodes) Since we are together! It's not like I don't know how things are. Even if I wasn't a servant and a commoner, I'm still a man, so it's not like we can marry or anything. I know our relationship can't be formal or official in any way, but I want it to be at least taken seriously!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (composes himself) So... I think a couple of weeks of cold shoulder should be enough. Then you can give me some luxurious gift, I pretend to forgive you for your "affair" and that would be it.

Arthur: (rolls his eyes) The only time you ask something luxurious of me and is for this charade. And you will give me the cold shoulder for two weeks? Really?

Merlin: Just when people are looking? In private we can still be very affectionate. 😏

Arthur: 😒

Merlin: Please? 🥺

Arthur: (sighs) Fine. But tell Leon the truth. I can't handle his disappointed look anymore.

Merlin: I will (hugs him, happily) Thank you. 😊

Arthur: (smiles without been able to help it and hugs back, thinking) He doesn't have the right to be this cute.

Time skip. In the main square.

Merlin: (walking with Gaius' herbs in a cest)

Gwaine: Excuse me, have you seen-

Merlin: (turns)

Gwaine: 😦 ...

Merlin: What? Do I have something on my face?

Gwaine: Do you have a sister by any chance?

Merlin: No, why?

Gwaine: It's just... you look very similar to a girl a met yesterday.

Merlin: (crosses his arms) Are you saying I look like a girl? 🤨

Gwaine: No, no! I mean, you are... very masculine for a... uhm... what is that you do?

Merlin: (about to tell "The prince's manservant", but decides to keep that information to himself for now) Physician apprentice.

Gwaine: Oh, you are Gaius' apprentice?

Merlin: You know him?

Gwaine: I'm sharing a room with another pair of men in his tower.

Merlin: (laughs in amusement)

Gwaine: (laughs too, realising his choice of words) I guess it kind of sounds bad.

Merlin: No, it sounds funny. (pauses) wait...(fakes surprise and excitment) OH! You must be one of the famous saviors that rescue Lady Morgana yesterday! 😃

Gwaine: (smugly) Well, I wouldn't call myself "savior". I did what anyone would have done in my place.

Merlin: Not anyone. What you did was very brave. (pats his arm)

Gwaine: (blushes a bit, thinking) What is this? She looks so much like this lady that I'm confusing him with her. Get yourself together!

Merlin: So, are you looking for Lady Morgana?

Gwaine: Pardon?

Merlin: You said you were looking for a girl, I'm assuming it's her.

Gwaine: Oh, no. I'm looking for the lady that was accompanying her, actually. Lady Merelyn. Do you have any idea of where she could be?

Merlin: Uhm... not really. Nobody has heard of her since yesterday.

Gwaine: (frustrated) It's like she vanished into thin air! (sighs) I told her she couldn't trust that prince! I bet he discarded her as soon as he learned she was tainted by that bandit. And he wasn't even faithful to her. Did you know the prince has a male lover.

Merlin: (gasps) Really?

Gwaine: And his manservant of all people! Look, I don't judge. I myself had my flings there and there. And I do appreciate men beauty. But reject a woman like Lady Merelyn for a man? Really?

Merlin: (chuckles) She got you bad, uh?

Gwaine: Me? (snorts) Nah, I'm just a bit worried about her, it's all. She mustn't be coping well after, well, everything. And she may need a shoulder to cry on, if you know what I mean. 😏

Merlin: (chuckles) Good luck with that. (turns to leave)

Gwaine: (stops him) Oh, let me carry that for you. (points the cest)

Merlin: (lifts his eyebrows in bewilderment and then smiles, amused) Still confusing me for a girl, I see.

Gwaine: Not really. But as I said, I also appreciate men beauty. 😏

Merlin: (mouth open)

Gwaine: (very surprised) It's incredible! You even have her expressions.

Merlin: Oh, so I'm a replacement then.

Gwaine: No, I-

Merlin: Are you even into men or are you so desperate to have this girl that you would lay with anyone that resembles her?

Gwaine: I didn't mean to-

Merlin: Offend? Because that's the only thing you've been doing since you open your mouth.

Gwaine: (sighs) You are right. My apologies.

Merlin: (turns to leave)

Gwaine: (puts himself infront of him) Can I point out something though? (gets closer) You never once said you weren't into men 😏.

Merlin: I am into men. (looks him up and down) But I have taste.

Gwaine: (brings a hand to his chest dramatically) Ow! You hurt my feelings. How am I going to survive this? Ugh! My heart, I can't bare it! (drops himself on the ground)

Merlin: (thinking, fondly) He really hasn't changed a thing. (kneels and says) Are you done?

Gwaine: (opens one eye) This isn't working isn't it?

Merlin: No.

Gwaine: (chuckles and lifts his back from the ground) Come on, at least let me invite you a drink for the troubles. I know I good tavern nearby.

Merlin: (smiles) Of course you do, Gwaine.

Gwaine: (smiles back but then frowns) Wait... How do you know my name?

Merlin: I would gladly accompany you (extends a hand)

Gwaine: (takes his hand with a triumphant smile)

Merlin: But you see... (pulls his hand away and speaks in a more high pitched tone) I'm still waiting for my ring. (shows his ring finger in a very girly manner)

Gwaine: (Gwaine exe has stopped working) 😨

Merlin: (lifts his head and spots something behind Gwaine) Oh, hi Arthur! 😊

Arthur: (just arrived, very hectic, in barely contained fury and with labored breathing)

Merlin: (stands up and frowns, worried) You look like you just came from a race. Is everything okay?

Just moments before in Arthur's chambers. Arthur on his desk.

Arthur: (thinking, while looking at a parchment) The kidnapping attempt on Morgana was handled. Then what? Is Morgause coming already? No, the troll was first and then... (slams the scroll on the desk, frustrated) Ugh! I can't remember! (stands up and decides to go to the window to take a breath. While he does, he spots Merlin very afar coming back with Gaius' herbs, relaxes inmediatly and smiles) He shouldn't be walking this much. Is he still limping? (smirks and starts to have no so good thoughts remembering their first time together and then forces himself to snap out of them) Damn you, Merlin. I can't concentrate nor when you are here, nor when you are not.

Someone knocks on the door.

Arthur: (turns, but stays near the window) Come in.

Leon: (enters, head down, very ashamed and embarrased) Sire. (bows)

Arthur: (sighs and crosses his arms, serious) I'm assuming Merlin already told you.

Leon: I have no words to express how sorry I am-

Arthur: For what exactly? Thinking ill of me? Believing in some rumors before my own word? Or for basically insulting me on my face?

Leon: All of it. I'm really sorry. I didn't recognise Merlin when he was... and then all the proof seemed to indicate... But that's not excuse. I failed as a knight and as a friend and will never forgive myself for-

Arthur: (laughs)

Leon: (lift his head in confusion)

Arthur: Keep going, you were getting to the best part.

Leon: (more confused) Uh... well...

Arthur: I'm joking. I'm not mad at you. I probably would've thought badly too if I was in your place. And, though it hurt my feelings a bit that you believed me capable of being unfaithful, I'm actually more glad that you care for Merlin so much you called me out on my supposed love affair. So thank you, for caring for him and for not mincing words to tell me when you believe I'm doing wrong.

Leon: (smiles, releaved) You are welcome, Sire.

Arthur: It also has come to my attention that not all the knights think like you. (tells Leon to come to the window with a gesture) Tell me... What do the knights think of Merlin?

Leon: (hesitates) Uhm...

Arthur: I want complete honesty.

Leon: Well, knights like Sir Innprudence, Sir Ewan and Sir Owain, may they rest in peace, respected and valued Merlin because they witnessed your story from the start. They got to know Merlin and knew the depth of your feelings. It's really a shame they never got to see... (his eyes water) I'm sorry. (wips a tear away)

Arthur: (puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and gives him a soft empathetic smile) It's okay. You were there when... when the questing beast happened, so I know it's not easy to talk about them. Take your time.

Leon: (pauses to compose himself and then continues) The thing is, most of the knights we have now are new. And for them Merlin is just your whim of the moment, a bed warmer, nothing more. They would never dare to harm him or insult him, much less if you are looking, but they do insult and talk ill of him behind Merlin's back. I'm not going to go into the details, but their thoughts on your relationship are not different from your father's.

Arthur: So they think Merlin is using me just for riches and power and that I'm using him just to get laid.

Leon: To sum up, yes sire.

Arthur: And Merlin is aware of this?

Leon: Sire, when is Merlin not aware of something?

Arthur: True...(sighs) And I guess me showing affection towards "Lady merelyn" didn't help with that. (looks guilty)

Leon: Merlin doesn't blame you, sire.

Arthur: But I should've been more careful. I promised I would cherish him and protect him and... (thinking) and somehow I still ruin it.

Leon: You can't change the past. What matters now is that you are doing something to remedy it. Merlin also told me about his plan.

Arthur: You mean his "offended lover act"? Yeah, that's why I'm keeping my distance. I still think this is absurd, but if he is so invested on this charade, then I'll support him.

Leon: (smiles, proud) You are very mature, sire. Merlin is very lucky to have someone so wise and considerate as his lo-

Arthur: THAT LECHEROUS BASTARD! 😡

Leon: ...excuse me, Sire?

Arthur: (points through the window, furious) There! Look!

From Arthur's window, they both can appreciate Merlin and Gwaine interacting.

Leon: I'm sure they are just talking, my lord.

Arthur: No, I know his kin, he's flirting with my Merlin!

Leon: You just met the man yesterday.

Arthur: Look! They are laughing!

Leon: Maybe he told him a joke.

Arthur: (mouth open) No... he didn't just... He patted his arm! 😤

Leon: A very friendly gesture.

Arthur: (fuming)

Leon: As I was saying, is admirable that you support and respect Merlin's idea no matter what-

Arthur: (leaves running)

Leon: (sighs) Well... at least Lancelot will have a new partner at the stables.

Back to the present.

Arthur: (grabs Merlin and pulls him away from Gwaine, a possesive arm around Merlin's waist)

Merlin: (looks at him, confused) Arthur?

Gwaine: (still on the floor, mumbles to himself, looking at Merlin and Arthur) The prince's mistress... The prince's male lover... the... OH! (finally puts the pieces together)

Arthur: (to Gwaine) You. What do you think you are doing? 😑

Gwaine: Uhm, you know, (puts his arms behind his head and crosses his legs, smiling) taking the sun. With a beauty by my side. Until you interrupted us.

Arthur: Don't be ridiculous. Stop harassing Merlin.

Gwaine: (offended) I'm not harassing anyone!

Arthur: I saw you holding his hand and also how he pulled away uncomfortably from you. In my language that's harassment.

People around: (who have been staring for a while, start to murmur between them)

Merlin: Arthur, relax. He wasn't-

Gwaine: (stands up) What is the problem your highness? Feeling insecure?

Arthur: (about to lunge at him)

Merlin: (stops him, puting himself infront of Arthur, hands on his chest) Arthur, no.

Gwaine: (raises hands as in surrender) I mean, I get it. Any man would feel insecure with this face the gods have blessed me with.

Arthur: (struggling with Merlin) Insecure? of you? (scoffs) Why should I feel insecure about a simple foreign who has no honor or a coin in his pocket. A nobody whose only reason for being in the castle is because he got into a fight with some bandits.

Gwaine: (standing tall, raising his voice) This nobody was able to defeat the bandits that even the royal guards couldn't! But don't worry, I don't expect your gratitude. (looks at Merlin) Your lover's gratitude is more than enough for me. (checks Merlin out shamelessly)

Arthur: (furious) Now you are dead! (tries to lunge at him again)

Merlin: (his arms around Arthur now to stop him) Don't! Arthur, please! (spots Lancelot and Leon in the distance and yells) Lancelot, Leon, help!

Lancelot: (runs to help Merlin to contain Arthur)

Leon: (who ran downstairs as soon as he saw Arthur had no intentions to be civil, hurries to help Merlin to contain Arthur too)

Gwaine: Leave him! I want to see if the prince's skill is as praised and to check if he is really the best warrior in Camelot. Although considering the skills of the royal cavalry, I highly doubt it.

Arthur: I can show you whenever you want! (struggles harder against Lancelot and Leon hold)

Gwaine: Yes, you're probably used to beating all your knights. The difference between me and them is that I'm not going to hold back, nor will I let you win for fear of losing my position.

Leon: (very offended, about to talk in defense of his prince) You-

Merlin: (raises his voice, angry) Enough! Gwaine, you're being very disrespectful. You're talking to the Prince of Camelot. How dare you insult his skills? He's the greatest knight I've ever seen. Arthur has worked and trained very hard since he was a child. You have no right to talk to him like that.

Leon and Lancelot: (look at Merlin, the person who disrespects and insults the prince 24/7, like he growed a second head)

Gwaine: Are you going to slap me again, my lady? 😏

Arthur: He slapped you?! 😨 What did you do to Merlin to make him slap you the first time?! 😡 (struggles even harder, more furious)

Merlin: (to Lancelot and Leon) Take him away.

Lancelot and Gwaine: (start dragging Arthur away)

Arthur: (keeps kicking and screaming as he is dragged away) Let go of me! I'll kill him! What did the fuck did you do?! 😤 (and he's gone)

Merlin: (turns to Gwaine, very serious) No, I'm not going to slap you, but if you keep insulting him I will hit you and not like a lady. (leaves)

Gwaine: Wait, I didn't get your name! (watches Merlin leave, still with a grin on his face) Damn.

Percival: (gets to Gwaine walking through the people gather for the conmotion) I should have know it was you who was making such scandal. (looks in the direction where Arthur, Merlin, Lancelot and Leon left) Was that the prince? What trouble did you get yourself into this time?

Gwaine: (innocently) I don't look for trouble. Trouble finds me.

Percival: Sure 😒. Have you decided what are we going to ask the King yet?

Gwaine: Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to ask.

Meanwhile, somewhere inside the castle.

Merlin: (very angry) What the fuck was that?!

Arthur: (very angry too) I should be the one asking! (to Leon and Lancelot) You let go of me already!

Lancelot and Leon: (let go)

Merlin: I'm not the one who almost beated a man in the middle of the main square for no reason!

Arthur: (almost shouting in disbelief) No reason?!

Merlin: Gwaine went too far with his words, I won't deny that, but you were agressive with him even before that. You weren't just acting like a clotpole or a dollophead, you were hysterical!

Arthur: (very sarcastic) Hysterical?! Why would I be hysterical?! It's not like I just witnessed a man flirting with you from my window, that said man insulted me on my face, and then you prevented me from putting him in his place!

Merlin: He wasn't-wait, you were watching me from your window? 😦

Arthur: Don't change the subject! (accusingly) What were you doing with Gwaine?

Merlin: Nothing! We were just talking.

Leon: Sire, may I suggest-

Arthur: No, you may not.

Lancelot: (opens his mouth)

Arthur: You neither! (to Merlin again) I'm just saying you weren't exactly rejecting his attentions back there.

Merlin: First you say I was being harassed and now you say I was flirting. Make up your mind, will you? (pauses, realising) Wait... you are acting like this just because you are jealous? Really?

Arthur: (sarcastic) No, I'm not jealous, Merlin. It's not like you have given me reasons. Or have you?

Merlin: (stony face and neutral voice) You are right. I have given you none.

Arthur: (realises Merlin now is really, really mad, thinking) Fuck.

Lancelot and Leon: 😰😰

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: For your sake I advice you to choose your next words very carefully.

Arthur: It's not that I don't trust you. I just want to understand. Merlin, when I arrived you... you were holding hands!

Merlin: So? I'm a man, Arthur, not a woman. I can have contact with other men. Stop treating me like some maiden or damsel in distress!

Arthur: (yells) I DON'T TREAT YOU LIKE A MAIDEN, I TREAT YOU LIKE MY LOVER!

Merlin:...

Lancelot and Leon: ...

Servants around: 🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢

Arthur: (takes a deep breath to compose himself, just barely, and says in a deep voice) I treat you like my lover, because that's what you are. My lover, my Merlin, MINE. So forgive me if I'm offended to see MY lover holding hands with another man, a man who has clearly shown his interest in you!

Merlin: ...

Servants around: (murmur)

Leon: (coughs) As I was trying to suggest before, maybe you should take this argument to somewhere more private, my lord.

Time skip. Arthur and Merlin alone in Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: Gwaine met me as Lady Merelyn and today I revealed it to him she was me. That was it. We were joking. It was a joke, nothing more.

Arthur: So what history do you have as Lady Merely with Gwaine?

Merlin: Arthur.

Arthur: I'm not saying you were unfaithful. But I did hear something about a ring in that joke of yours and he said you slapped him, so you can't blame me for being curious.

Merlin: (sighs) He did flirt with Lady Merelyn, alright, but never overstepped. He just did a few compliments there and there. But then Lancelot told him I was "the prince's mistress" and I guess his pride were wounded because he started to talk bad about you. That's when I slapped him and gave him a piece of my mind.

Arthur: And the ring part?

Merlin: Well, in our argument, he kind of claimed he could give me "comittement" so I asked "where's my ring?"

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Merlin: To shut him up. I knew the kind of man Gwaine was from the start. As soon as I mention the ring he panicked and stopped bothering me.

Arthur: (gives a long sigh)

Merlin: Are you calm now?

Arthur: I'll be once he leaves this castle.

Merlin: Why? I just told you his interest was in Lady Merelyn, not me.

Arthur: He flirted with you as a man too, Merlin.

Merlin: He was joking! He just wanted to mess with you. And of course you let him get to you as the clotpole you are!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: What?

Arthur: That's really what you believe, don't you?

Merlin: Well, why else would he do it?

Silence.

Merlin: Look, I've been walking all day and I'm tired. So I'll be in my room resting while you think about your behaviour today. (leaves, going to his chambers)

Arthur: (murmurs to himself, incredulous) He has... no idea. (laughs dryly) He really has NO IDEA.

Arthur's flashback. Percival visiting Gwaine's grave.

Arthur: (aproaches Percival) Percival.

Percival: My lord.

Arthur: I believe I own you an apology. I was so self absorbed in my grieve, that I didn't notice you were grieving too. Gwaine was my friend too after all, one of my best knights, but I haven't properly shown my respects till today.

Percival: It's alright, sire. We all know what Merlin meant to you. (smiles sadly) He meant a lot to Gwaine too.

Arthur: (nods) Gaius told me Gwaine scorted Merlin to the Crystal Cave. He was there for him when I wasn't and for that I'm grateful. He didn't deserve his fate. What Morgana did, using Eira to get information from him and then torture him, it has no name.

Percival: I don't think he ever cared about Eira.

Arthur: He went after Morgana after her execution, did he not?

Percival: Yes, but no because of her. He was torned because he was fool enough to tell her he was taking Merlin to the valley of the fallen kings. As far as he knew he had almost doomed Merlin with his carelesness. And then Morgana finished to get all the information from him when he tortured him with the nathair, so he died thinking he failed him.

Arthur: (smiles sadly) I guess I can relate to that feeling.

Percival: (gives a small nostalgic laugh) I don't think he ever got over his crush on Merlin in that sense.

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Percival: (surprised) Oh, you didn't know?

Arthur: That's... that's impossible! He was a womanizer. I mean, I've only ever seen him with women.

Percival: Yes, but he was into men too. He was never discret about it, but men who like men do not abound pricesly. And it's true he had a preference for women, but... Merlin was always especial, you know?

Arthur: ...

Percival: Are you alright, my lord?

Arthur: Were they... were they ever...

Percival: No, I don't think so. He always came to me like a kicked out puppy everytime Merlin rejected his advances. Though I'm not sure Merlin ever realized Gwaine's flirting was serious. Either way he clearly had no insterest in Gwaine, so eventually he gave up.

Arthur: ...

Percival: My lord?

Arthur: (forces a smile) I have to go. It was nice talking to you. (leaves)

Percival: ...

End of Arthur's flashback.

Finding out Gwaine's feelings for Merlin was a breaking point for Arthur. His memories with Gwaine and Merlin interacting were more clear. Where he once saw friendly behaviour, he detected the flirting . And those memories started hunting him as much as Merlin's last words to him. They made him grumpy, upset and later he discovered why.

Arthur was jealous. Jealous of a dead man. Because he got to flirt with Merlin, he got to show his interest in him even though he was rejected. And it was him Merlin went to when he was vulnerable, without his magic, it was him he asked to protect him when he went to the Crytal Cave and not Arthur.

And, inevitably, the more aware he became of his feelings for Merlin, the more his hatred for Gwaine's memory grew.

Now Gwaine has shown interest in Merlin again, maybe even stronger than before, and , of course, Merlin as the clueless clotepole he was can't see it cause, apparently, he is unable to notice when someone has any romantic interest on him.

But now Merlin was his. He worked very hard to get him back and he is not going to let Gwaine take merlin from him.

...

It may seem funny, but Arthur's jealousy here is actually pretty toxic and I'm not going to sugarcoat it.

Credits to my best friend Rosangela, who help with the dialogues.

Arthur's reaction to Gwaine brazenly flirting with Merlin ✅️

Etiquetas @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity , @lucifertookmyshoe @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense , @slightly-psycho-multifan , @jxmimac , @anarchelsworld , @beepbeep-yeah , @faithiikins

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fic #merthur prompt #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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daddyfordaeddy · 10 months ago

Text

Pairing: mafia! Seongjoong x f! yn

Word Count: 3517

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, minor injuries, slight possessive/yandere joong (not super noticeable), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, mafia au, exes to lovers, M for mature audiences

Summary: After leaving the mafia scene for five years, you've had to go back and beg for help from the boss of your former family...and your ex.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, degredation, spitroasting, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, creampie, fingering, felching (again), squirting, one spank, dom/sub (seongjoong dom, yn sub), undernegotiated kinks (its been a while since they fucked so things may have changed but they don't discuss. don't do this)

Written for tipsy drabbles! took me like 3 days to write the smut itself lmao

“So. You’ve found your way back to me, begging for me.” You keep your eyes lowered, not afraid but too ashamed to look Hongjoong in the eyes. You haven’t seen the head of the MATZ gang in a long time. Not since the last boss was alive and he was just a capo in his own right. Not since you had left him standing in the hall of his mansion, citing immaturity when it was just your fears of commitment to a mafia member. You know you broke his heart, but he stitched it back up quickly, yelling after you that if you ever came back he wouldn’t help you.

And yet, how the tables have turned.

“I had…I had nowhere else to go. Turn me away if you wish, but hear me out first. Please, Hongjoong.” You keep your gaze focused on your ratty sneakers, a far cry from the Louboutins you used to wear.

“Look at me first.” You freeze. From his tone of voice, you know he knows why you’re here. “I won’t repeat myself, YN.”

Slowly, you bring your head up, wincing at the sharp pain in your throbbing head from the sudden movement. You’re sure you look a mess, with the black eye and split lip. You keep your line of sight trained on the window next to Hongjoong instead of his face, but you can’t miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of you broken in front of him.

“What. Happened.”

His voice is cold and you flinch, hands wringing behind your back as you refuse to break down in front of your first lover (and if you stop lying to yourself, he still is in your heart). “...It was Yang Beomhun. I left you but he tracked me down and thought he could use me as leverage against you. It didn’t work, but at that point, he decided he might as well keep me around for himself and the pretence he had put up dropped. I…don’t know what else to do.”

It was a miracle you were even let back into his mansion. You thought you would have to live a life of suffering with Beomhun as your tormentor, but one of the family had somehow recognised you and let you in, citing it to be some sick joke.

And maybe it was. Who leaves the mafia out of fear for their future, only to end up being run ragged by the justice system? It’s ironic, ending right back up where you left, but once again, you have nothing left to lose.

“Why don’t you just leave him? You clearly are able to.”

You choose to ignore the jibe. “I couldn't. I’ve tried. It was a miracle I made it here, and that was with the help of someone who likely has gotten into deeper trouble.” You can feel your body shaking with the effort to keep your cool. “I don’t know what to tell you. Give me a new life, or just fucking kill me, Hongjoong. I don’t want to be caught in the middle again. I left to avoid the danger but no matter what I do, all I get is the same thing.”

Silence settles over the both of you. It’s only a moment later you realise you finally admitted the real reason you left. Your head shifts lower and you squeeze your eyes shut, both from embarrassment and trying to keep yourself on your feet.

After a long breath, you feel slender fingers on your chin that tip your face up. Blearily, you blink your eyes open to see Hongjoong staring down at you, eyes hiding any emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is soft, softer than you’ve heard in a long time. “I would’ve protected you, given you the safest life I could.”

“I…back then I didn’t want that, Joong. I just wanted a normal life. Not a safe one.” Your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“And now? What do you want?” You open your mouth to speak, but instead, your legs give out and Hongjoong drops to keep you from cracking your head on the wooden floor. “YN, wait–”

When you reawaken, you’re in an intricate bedroom you remember as the one you stayed in when you and Hongjoong were still dating. It’s changed quite a bit, his bookshelves cleared and the desk is gone, but otherwise, the drapes remain the same, and the carpet and plants as well. Your body aches but your mind is refreshed, the exhaustion from yesterday gone.

You can feel a heavy weight on the left side of the bed and your heart softens at the sight of Hongjoong sitting beside you, head in his arms as he rests his torso on the bed. As much as you hate to admit it, you missed him every moment you were gone. But you hurt him irrevocably and you know there’s not much you can do to win him back.

Your hand reaches up involuntarily, just about to brush through his platinum blond locks when his head snaps up. Your hand jerks back although his eyes are still closed. “You’re up,” he hums, eyes slowly blinking open. “The medic said you were just exhausted, but I’m glad to see you’re up.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed. “Why are you glad? I hurt you. I don’t deserve your worry.”

Hongjoong’s brow raises. “I don’t think you get to decide who I get to worry about. Yes, you hurt me. But we were young and dumb. We were hardly adults, thrust into a dangerous situation. And I would be lying to say I didn’t miss you, rosebud.”

Your face flushes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in years and Hongjoong smiles at the sight of it. He shifts over, leaning in to brush his nose against yours when the door slams open. “Boss, Seonghwa’s back.”

Your brows furrow. “Seonghwa?” The name escapes your lips before you can catch it and Hongjoong’s eyes narrow to level a sharp gaze at you.

“You met him?” His question is light but there’s danger behind it.

“Yes—He’s the one that helped me escape Beomhun. He was new on the task force, but he saw how Beomhun treated me and was the only one who cared to help me.” You speak quickly, trying to ease the tension lurking in Hongjoong’s eyes. “I swear on my life, Joong. He’s done nothing wrong except help me.”

Hongjoong stares at you for a long moment before he stands quickly, smoothing down his suit. “YN, come. Let’s see this Seonghwa for ourselves.”

Before you can even say anything, he grabs your wrist, pulling you along. You don’t know how to react, much less if you should react, and the entire way down to the basement is silent. You come to a stop behind a glass window, two-way if you remember correctly, and you stare at the slender figure sitting at the table, with sharp eyes and a split lip. “That’s him,” you breathe out.

Hongjoong hums. “Aww, he came all this way to see if you were alive? How sweet. Why don’t you go and show him how much you appreciate him? After all the work I put him to to keep you safe?” His hand pushes at your side a little and you snap your head towards him.

“Joong–” you gasp in shock and confusion.

Hongjoong turned to stare you down. “What? You think I would actually just let you go like that, five years ago? You’re mine, and you’d do well to remember that.” He chuckles low in his throat, his lips pulling into a shark’s smile. “Seonghwa here is my underboss. I trust him the most when it comes to my personal affairs, and I think he deserves a reward for the work he’s done. Come on, baby, why don’t you show him how good you can be?”

Before you can say anything else, he swings the door open and pulls you through. “Hwa, say ‘hi’ to my little rosebud. She’s here to give you a little treat for protecting her.”

He pushes you forward again and you stumble on your feet until large, warm hands land on your waist as you stop between Seonghwa’s open thighs. “Aren’t you just precious, huh,” he groans, pressing his thumbs into your hip bones. “Little missy is just too worried about me, is that right, baby?”

You cast a glance back at Hongjoong, where he’s taken a seat from across the room and is palming at the growing bulge in his pants. Without even thinking about it, your thighs squeeze together and you flush. “Joong–” Back when you were still with him, the two of you would find newcomers to fuck, some kind of sick power play Joong got off on. It’s somewhat comforting to see not much has changed in that regard…and it makes heat bloom in your core.

Seonghwa’s hand gripping your chin directs your gaze to his dark eyes. “Come on, miss, I went to all that work keeping you safe, don’t you want to show your appreciation?” He arches a perfect brow and you swear the expression on his face only serves to make your face even hotter.

“Show him how good you can be, YN,” Hongjoong commands from behind you, his voice heavy. And, well, who are you to disobey him? Immediately, you drop to your knees, your habits from years back still ingrained into your brain.

Seonghwa chuckles, his fingers combing through your hair slowly as he palms his cock straining against his leather pants. “Come on, princess. Show me how good those pretty lips are.”

You don’t need much more prompting than that, quickly reaching forward to undo his belt and slide his zipper down. With a groan, Seonghwa lifts his hips enough for you to shove his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. The tip of it is an angry red, dripping pre-come and your eyes zero in on it.

Seonghwa places his hand on the top of your head, and you don’t need much more prompting before dipping down and pressing a kiss to the tip. You can hear him sigh and it's enough to make you sink down to envelop the head of it in your mouth, letting spit pool around it. Any other day you’d be in the mood to tease, but with Hongjoong watching all you want is to be good.

“Shit, her mouth is so good,” Seonghwa groans, his thighs straining as his hands tighten in your hair. “So perfectly willing to be used.”

You feel another spike of heat in your core as you clench around nothing at his words. The way he doesn’t even direct it at you, only at Hongjoong turns you on more than you’d like to admit it would. “You can be rougher with her, she likes it,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through the fog slowly encapsulating your mind.

Without hesitation, Seonghwa pushes your head down even further and you gag, eyes rolling back at the rough treatment. “Holy shit, she’s into it.” There’s absolute glee in Seonghwa’s voice, and his hips give an experimental thrust. You moan around his thick length, eyes squeezing shut as your spit dribbles down his length. Any shame you feel dissolves into arousal and you can’t help but wriggle your hips, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Look at you, so needy for anything.” Hongjoong’s voice is closer than you remember, and you flinch when you feel his cool hands on your shoulders. They trail down, patting your ass before reaching to cup you through your pants. “Come on, hands and knees for me, okay?”

It takes you a moment to respond, but when Hongjoong paps you on your cunt again, you scramble to present your ass to him while still keeping Seonghwa in your mouth. You can hear both of them chuckle at your eagerness. “She’s such a perfect slut, Joong,” the bite in Seonghwa’s voice makes you whine low in your throat. “So happy to just take cock and sit still, all pretty for us.”

Hongjoong hums as he pulls down your pants and underwear in one swift moment, pressing his fingers against your sopping pussy. “She’s so wet, truly the perfect whore for us,” he sighs, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. His movements are fast, precise, and more slick gushes out of you as you keep moaning around Seonghwa’s cock.

Before you can grind against his hand, his fingers disappear just as fast as they entered you and you whine, feeling much too empty. “Eager or not, bitches should learn patience,” Hongjoong sneers and a smack resounds in the room. You register the stinging pain on your ass a second later and you moan, the sound of it muffled.

Your eyes tear up from the pain and Seonghwa coos, his long fingers brushing away the tears. You lean into the comfort subconsciously but as you do so, you can feel the blunt head of Hongjoong’s cock rubbing against your folds and the slick sounds make your brain fuzzy. The tip of it repeatedly catches on your clit and each time it sends a shock to your core.

Before you can whine any more, Hongjoong lines his cock up to your cole and pushes in without any warning. Your eyes snap open as your body is pushed forward and Seonghwa’s cock is driven deeper into your mouth. “Shit–” Seonghwa groans, his other hand coming down to grip your hair and keep your head in place.

Hongjoong giggles from behind you before drawing back and slamming back in again. The force of his thrust spears him so perfectly inside you, the girth of his cock stretching you open so well. He didn’t prep you well enough, but the sting makes you even wetter. It’s been years, and he still knows exactly what you like and it makes both your heart and your cunt throb. Seonghwa’s cock is longer, but the stretch of Hongjoong is just what you like and you clench around him.

“God, after all this time, you still are so fucking tight. Maybe I didn’t fuck you well enough before,” Hongjoong leans down to whisper in your ear, his weight pushing you impossibly further onto Seonghwa’s dick. “Maybe I’ll let Seonghwa fuck you too until your pussy is nice and sloppy for me to take any time I want. You may be mine, but Seonghwa is too and it would be cruel of me to not let my two playthings have their own fun.”

You’re a little ashamed to admit the idea of that makes you moan, and Hongjoong presses a kiss to your shoulder before biting the flesh, his hips starting to jackhammer into you, setting an unforgiving pace.

Your body goes lip, Hongjoong’s arms around your waist and Seonghwa’s hands in your hair the only thing keeping you up. You really do feel like a doll used only for their enjoyment but something about it is perfect and you keep your mouth slack as your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt is throbbing, pulsing around Hongjoong as he hits the spongy spot inside of you with surprising accuracy. Seonghwa’s started thrusting into your mouth as well, your jaw aching but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You can hear them speaking to each other above you but you’re too far gone to make sense of anything they’re saying, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two men on either side pound into you. But before you can say or do anything, Seonghwa comes, ropes of his come shooting down your throat without you needing to swallow. As his orgasm washes over him, he pulls his cock out, moving one of his hands to your jaw and squeezing, keeping your mouth open and pliant. The tip of his dick rests against your lower lip as drops of come land in your mouth and dribble down your lips. When his cock softens, he tucks himself back in and leans down to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow.” His voice is rough and heavy, and you follow his command immediately. You don’t even notice Hongjoong stilled his hips until a moment later and you whine.

“So greedy,” Hongjoong scoffs, his hands gripping your waist and his nails digging into the skin. Without warning, he pulls you back down on his cock and you moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream. “Your cunt is swallowing me so well, baby. I could do this for hours and I bet you’d just let it happen. God, I can’t believe I let you go last time, no one else could be such a perfect little cumdump for me.”

He punctuates each other with another thrust until he’s groaning as he reaches the edge of his pleasure, his come shooting deep into you and coating your walls. “God, she’s taking you so well,” Seonghwa hums, brushing your hair out of your eyes, the gentleness of his actions the complete opposite of how he was treating your mouth not a minute earlier.

Hongjoong laughs, pulling out his cock to see his come dripping out of you and making a little pool on the floor. His arms release you and you collapse onto the cool tile, your body shuddering. “She’s good, isn’t she,” he says fondly, his hands coming to pull apart your cheeks, admiring the sight of your hole fluttering around nothing. “She hadn’t even come after that. Would you like to reward this good behaviour, Hwa?”

A chuckle leaves Seonghwa as he moves around to settle in between your legs. You’re too tired to shift to see what they’re doing and you gasp as a flat tongue presses against your dripping hole. Your back arches and Hongjoong chuckles, pressing down on your shoulders to shove you further onto the tile.

Your thighs are shaking from the effort of keeping your hips up, but Seonghwa’s grip doesn’t relent as he licks into you like a starved man, tasting both your slick and Hongjoong’s come. The way it flicks your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to come apart on the title, moans spilling out of your mouth easily as you feel a great pressure on your core and your body shakes from the effort of it. You can hear the sloppy, wet sounds of Seonghwa licking up your release and even when you try to clench around his tongue you just know with how loose you are it doesn’t change much.

“Fuck, I didn’t know she squirts,” you hear the awe in Seonghwa’s voice and Hongjoong hums, please.

“Like I said, she’s really the perfect slut.” Hongjoong pats your head, but the praise doesn’t really register, your mind is all fuzzy from the fucking you just received, and all you do is yawn. You hear soft laughter from the two of them and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “All right, I get it. You can sleep, baby. We’ll clean you up. Just relax.”

At his sweet words, you let your head drop to his shoulder as you let him manoeuvre you so he can pick you up to bring you to a bath. You’re happy to be back.

As Hongjoong tucks you into bed, Seonghwa leans against the doorframe, waiting for you to finally drift off. As soon as your breathing levels, Seonghwa moves to stand by Hongjoong sitting on the bed, and he speaks up. “Beomhun asked for his money.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t get it. He broke the rules of the deal and laid his hands on my girl. The agreement was for him to scare her, not fucking hurt her.”

Seonghwa nods. “I know. He has been taken care of. Jongho and Yunho are happy to have been promoted, and I’m sure they’ll bring flowers to the funeral.”

Hongjoong chuckles, low in his throat to keep you from waking. “Good, good. It’ll be good to have some of our men higher in the police force too. Beomhun’s death was needed. But make sure she never finds out.” Seonghwa nods. “Can you go get a report from Yunho?”

Another nod. “I’ll see you later,” Seonghwa says, patting Hongjoong on the shoulder. “We’re still on for dinner, right?”

Hongjoong smiles. “Of course. Come here.” Seonghwa moves to stand between Hongjoong’s legs, much like how you did with him down in the basement. Without another word, Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m happy to have both of you back. I’ll see you later tonight. Maybe YN will be awake for dinner as well.”

Seonghwa flushes red before kissing Hongjoong once more before slipping out the door. Hongjoong turns his attention back to you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re back now, and I intend to keep it this way. No running away from me anymore,” he whispers, his fingers trailing down your face to ghost over your lips. “You’re mine, rosebud.”

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fanfiction #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #smut

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playboysaleen · 2 months ago

Text

Through Ash and Iron (3)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Just keep letting me cook ok?

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy.

_________________________

Sevika pushed open the door to Jinx’s lair with more force than usual, the heavy thud echoing in the dimly lit space. Jinx sat cross-legged on her worktable, absently tinkering with a small device, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.

“Got news,” Sevika said, her voice unusually strained as she moved deeper into the room.

“Unless it’s about the moon exploding or Enforcers turning into frogs, I don’t care,” Jinx muttered, not looking up.

Sevika didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she paced, her metal arm twitching slightly. When Jinx finally glanced up, she frowned at the tension rolling off the older woman.

“It’s about Isha,” Sevika said, her voice low.

Jinx froze, her hands stilling on the device. Her eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“She’s been taken. The Enforcers got her during the rally.”

Jinx’s face hardened, her fingers curling tightly around the small contraption in her hands. “And you just let them take her?”

“Wasn’t a matter of letting them, Jinx. It was chaos,” Sevika snapped, then sighed heavily. “But there’s more. A lot more.”

Sevika moved toward the balcony, nodding for Jinx to follow. With a huff of annoyance, Jinx slipped off the table, trailing after her. Stepping outside, Sevika leaned against the railing, nodding toward the empty courtyard below.

“Down there,” Sevika began, her eyes narrowing. “She’s been at it for the last twenty minutes.”

Jinx followed her gaze to see you in the courtyard, the remnants of your rage etched into the ground. Shattered crates and barrels littered the space, and you were pacing furiously, shouting into the void. With a guttural scream, you grabbed a heavy metal pipe from the ground and hurled it across the yard like it weighed nothing, the force causing it to embed itself into a distant wall.

“Damn,” Jinx muttered, her brows lifting.

“She went feral during the rally,” Sevika said, her tone grave. “I’m talking tearing through Embessa’s most advanced Enforcers. She ripped the armor off one like it was paper, Jinx. She’s got strength I’ve never seen—speed, too. But it wasn’t just that.” Sevika turned to face Jinx fully. “Her eyes. They sparked. Purple. Like—”

“Shimmer,” Jinx finished, her voice quiet but sharp.

Sevika nodded. “She’s got control… mostly. But when she loses it, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. She’s a weapon, Jinx. A dangerous one. But right now, she’s losing it, and if we don’t get her calmed down, someone else is gonna try and stop her—and we know how that ends.”

Jinx’s gaze lingered on you, something flickering in her expression—curiosity, concern, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. “That’s her,” Jinx murmured, almost to herself.

Sevika frowned. “Her who?”

Jinx leaned on the railing, watching as you threw another heavy object clear across the courtyard with a shout. “The one I saw. She’s the key, Sevika.”

“The key to what?” Sevika asked, skeptical.

Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, her lips twisted into a smirk that didn’t quite hide her unease. “Doesn’t matter. She’s ours now. We’ll figure it out.”

Sevika glanced at her sideways. “Okay, great. But how exactly do we calm her down? Look at her.”

As if on cue, an unlucky soldier who had wandered into the courtyard to reason with you ended up hurtling through the air, slamming into the wall beside Jinx. The soldier slid down with a groan, leaving a visible dent in the concrete.

Jinx didn’t flinch, though her eyes flicked back to you. She sighed dramatically. “Guess it’s my turn.”

Sevika raised a brow. “You sure about that? She might throw you next.”

Jinx shrugged, already heading for the staircase. “I’m good at dodging.”

When she reached the courtyard, you were pacing, your fists clenching and unclenching as your breath came in ragged gasps. Your eyes flashed purple again, and Jinx felt her stomach twist. Still, she kept her usual banter in place.

“Y’know, if you keep throwing things, there’s not gonna be much left of this place. And I just cleaned up,” she teased, her voice light.

You didn’t respond, barely even acknowledging her. She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head as she watched you.

“Hey,” she tried again, her tone softening just slightly. “Look at me.”

Still nothing. Jinx hesitated, her fingers twitching before she finally stepped forward, grabbing your face with both hands.

You froze at the sudden contact, your wide eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of you moved. Jinx’s breath caught in her throat as she stared into your eyes, the faint purple spark flickering like lightning in a storm.

Déjà vu washed over her, an overwhelming sense of familiarity she couldn’t place. Her grip on your face tightened slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s you…”

Your eyes flickered back to their normal gray, and your expression crumpled. The rage drained from you all at once, replaced by a deep, aching guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Isha.”

Jinx stared at you, stunned by the vulnerability in your voice. Her hands slipped from your face, and before she could think better of it, she pulled you into a tight hug.

You stiffened in her arms, the gesture so unexpected it left you speechless. Jinx swallowed hard, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she whispered, “We’re gonna get her back. All of us. You hear me?”

You nodded against her shoulder, the faintest tremor in your movements. For once, you didn’t have a sarcastic comeback, just a quiet, shaky breath as the weight of her words settled over you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Jinx tinkered with her weapons at her workbench, the steady clink and scrape of metal echoing in her lair. Across the room, you stood silently in front of Isha’s pillow fort, the light from her colored lamps casting a soft, almost melancholic glow over your face. Jinx watched you out of the corner of her eye, her hands slowing on the tools.

You leaned down, pulling off your long-sleeve shirt, revealing the toned muscles of your arms and back. Tattoos, intricate and vibrant, ran along your skin, telling stories of battles, losses, and survival. You stood in just a black muscle shirt, your chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as you stared at the fort.

“What did you mean?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Jinx looked up, confused. “Mean about what?”

“What you said out there. About it being me,” you clarified, your voice steady but low.

Jinx froze for a moment, her tools hovering mid-air. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her mind flickering with flashes of a distant past. A kid. A memory she couldn’t fully grasp.

“It’s… nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… a feeling.”

You turned away from the fort and approached her workbench, your sharp eyes scanning the arsenal. She held out a rifle to you, but you waved it off with a small shake of your head. Instead, your attention fell on a set of knives, their blades painted with vivid, chaotic colors.

“These’ll do,” you muttered, grabbing them and securing them in your belt. You pulled a black bandana from your pocket and tied it around your neck, adjusting it to hide the tattoos along your throat.

You turned back to Jinx, your expression calm but determined. “Let’s go save the kid,” you said simply, your voice carrying a cool confidence that made her pause.

Jinx blinked, momentarily stunned by the weight of your words and the effortless power in your demeanor. She swallowed, trying to mask the strange feeling bubbling in her chest, but the voices in her head were already stirring.

“Look at her… she’s too strong for you.”

“You’re getting soft, Jinx. Don’t let her change you.”

“She’s doing it already—you feel it, don’t you?”

Jinx clenched her fists, her breathing quickening. She slammed her tools onto the bench, her knuckles whitening.

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting nervously.

“She’s not like the others.”

“You’re changing, Powder. And it’s because of her.”

The voices swirled, and for a moment, Jinx’s head throbbed with the chaos. Then, a new voice, softer and steadier, broke through the din.

“She’s helping you, Jinx. She’s pulling you back.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, and her breathing hitched. She looked up just as you paused at the door, your hand on the frame. You glanced back at her, your gray eyes calm but piercing.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice cutting through the noise in her head like a blade.

The voices fell silent, replaced by an eerie calm. Jinx blinked, her lips quirking into her usual smirk to hide the vulnerability that had threatened to surface. “You’re really bossy, y’know that?” she teased, grabbing her gear.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” you shot back, your tone light but edged with sincerity.

Jinx chuckled as she moved to join you, her usual bravado settling back into place. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” she quipped, brushing past you.

Together, you descended the stairs, where Sevika was waiting with her arms crossed. Her mechanical arm whirred faintly as she raised an unimpressed brow at the two of you.

“Finally,” Sevika muttered, eyeing you both. “We’ve got a port waiting. Let’s move.”

The three of you headed out into the depths of the Undercity, weaving through the dark alleys and tunnels toward the transportation point. The faint hum of the city buzzed in the background, a stark contrast to the tense silence that hung between you all.

Jinx fell into step beside you, her teasing mask slipping just enough for a flicker of something softer to show through. You caught her glance but didn’t comment, the quiet resolve in your expression saying everything that needed to be said.

For the first time in a long time, Jinx felt a sliver of certainty—a steadying presence in the chaos. It was unnerving, but she couldn’t deny it. Something about you was different, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that scared her or gave her hope.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Caitlyn sat on the floor of her quarters, surrounded by a sea of papers, record books, and scattered files. A glass of whiskey rested beside her, the amber liquid half-gone as she sipped distractedly. Her usually meticulous living room was in disarray, evidence of her relentless search for answers. The soft glow of a single lamp cast her shadow against the wall, and her tired eyes scanned through the faded ink of yet another report.

The door opened, and Vi stepped in. She paused at the sight before her, crossing her arms with a raised brow. “What the hell, Cupcake? Did a tornado hit in here, or are you just redecorating?”

Caitlyn barely looked up, her focus pinned on a file. “Vi,” she muttered, her voice weary, “I’m busy.”

Vi stepped further into the room, crouching beside the mess. “Yeah, I can see that. What’s all this about? You’re running yourself ragged. What’s got you so wound up?”

Caitlyn hesitated, setting the paper down and rubbing her temples. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but the weight on her chest was unbearable. “I… I can’t stop thinking about her,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly.

Vi’s brows knit together. “Her?”

“Y/n,” Caitlyn whispered, the name laced with something deep, raw. She closed her eyes as the floodgates began to open. “There’s something about her, Vi. Something I can’t explain. From the moment I saw her…”

Vi leaned back, tilting her head. “Go on,” she urged gently.

Caitlyn opened her eyes, her gaze distant. “Her eyes,” she started, voice thick with emotion. “They’re like windows to a world I can’t even begin to fathom. They hold stories—pain, loss, strength—that I desperately want to know. When she looks at you, it’s like she’s offering you a piece of herself, but only just enough to make you crave the rest.”

Vi watched silently as Caitlyn poured out her heart, something she rarely did.

“And her smile,” Caitlyn continued, her lips quirking in a small, bittersweet way. “It’s not like anyone else’s. It’s small, fleeting, but it holds so much power. It’s… tranquil, almost. Like for a second, everything’s okay in the world when she lets it slip.”

She paused, her hands clenching. “Her body… it’s like a temple, Vi. Not just because of her strength or the tattoos that tell a story of their own, but because it’s been through so much. It’s endured battles—some you can see and some you can’t—and yet it stands tall. She stands tall.” Caitlyn’s voice grew softer. “I feel her on a deeper level, and I can’t explain it. It’s like we’re connected somehow, but it’s not enough. I can’t just let her go down this path. She deserves better. She is better.”

She let out a frustrated breath, leaning forward and cradling her head in her hands. “But I don’t know how to reach her. I don’t even know where she is.”

Vi let the silence hang for a moment before letting out a low whistle. “Damn, Cait,” she said, her tone softer than usual. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Caitlyn glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“This isn’t just some passing thing,” Vi said with a knowing smile. “This is love at first sight, Cupcake. You’re drawn to her, and you don’t even realize how deep it goes. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

Caitlyn shook her head, her cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s not love, Vi. I just… I care about her. I don’t want to see her get lost in this madness.”

Vi snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. But you know what? If you care about her this much, I’m in. Whatever you need, I’ll help you find her.”

Caitlyn blinked, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. “Really?”

Vi nodded, her face growing serious. “Yeah. And I think I’ve got a lead. Someone told me they saw her at the rally. You know, the one with all the blue smoke and chaos.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, her heart racing. “She was there?”

“Yeah,” Vi said grimly. “And she already got her hands on Rictus.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “Rictus? The enforcer commander? Why would she go after him?”

Vi hesitated before continuing, her voice low. “There was a little girl with her. Word is, something went down—Rictus overstepped. Hurt the kid. And she… lost it.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught as she pieced the puzzle together. She frantically searched through her scattered papers, pulling out reports of the rally, witness statements, and a picture of the blue smoke marking the chaos.

“She snapped because of the child,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice shaking. “She wasn’t acting out of malice… she was protecting someone.”

Vi nodded. “That’s what it sounds like. But Cait, if she’s spiraling, we need to get to her fast. Before this gets worse.”

Caitlyn’s resolve hardened as she looked up at Vi, her sapphire eyes blazing with determination. “Then let’s find her. Together.”

Vi leaned against the doorframe of Caitlyn’s quarters, watching her frantically sift through the scattered papers. “Alright, we know she was at the rally, but where would she go after that? She’s not exactly subtle, Cait.”

Caitlyn stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If Rictus got away, he’d want revenge. He’d know she wouldn’t just walk away quietly.” She paused, realization dawning on her. “What if she’s been taken?”

Vi frowned. “Taken where?”

“To Stillwater Hold,” Caitlyn said, her voice sharp with urgency. “If she’s been captured, they’d take her there for interrogation.”

Vi nodded, her expression serious. “Then we don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Caitlyn didn’t wait. She threw on her enforcer uniform, clipped her rifle to her back, and stormed out of her quarters, Vi following closely behind.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The chaos of the Stillwater break unfolded in a blur of fire and steel. Alarms blared through the corridors, and shouts echoed as Jinx, Sevika, and you tore through the facility to free Isha. After a fierce fight and tense moments, the little girl was finally in your hands.

Jinx grabbed Isha’s hand, tugging her toward the exit, but stopped when she noticed you lingering behind. “What are you doing?” Jinx hissed. “Take her and get out of here!”

You looked down at the child, then at Sevika, who stood at the edge of the chaos. Your gray eyes locked on Jinx, steady and unwavering. “Sevika can take her,” you said calmly.

Jinx’s jaw tightened. “Are you insane?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk as you glanced back at her. “You don’t need me running off. Someone has to make sure your ego doesn’t inflate too much from a dramatic last stand. Besides…” You stepped closer, voice low and teasing. “Dying alone is so cliché.”

Jinx blinked, her lips parting in surprise before a small, begrudging grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

“I’ve heard,” you said, turning back toward the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching.

The clash with Warwick was nothing short of brutal. The monstrous figure moved with terrifying speed and strength, overwhelming even the combined efforts of Jinx and you.

You moved like a blur, your knives a whirlwind of flashing steel. But Warwick’s sheer power knocked you back, slamming you against a wall. You groaned, dazed but refusing to stay down.

Jinx fired round after round, her explosive devices lighting up the darkened room, but Warwick was relentless. He swatted her weapon aside and lunged at her, pinning her against the wall. His massive claws hovered dangerously close to her throat.

Just as Jinx’s breath hitched, you slid beneath Warwick’s massive frame, your voice tearing through the room in an animalistic growl. “Get. Off. Her!”

Your gray eyes sparked with an otherworldly purple light, burning with an intensity that froze Warwick in place. He turned, his snarling mouth faltering as his glowing eyes locked onto yours.

“Spark…” he whispered, his voice guttural and filled with something almost human.

Jinx stiffened at the sound of the name, her eyes darting between Warwick and you.

The name struck you like a lightning bolt, sending a sharp pain through your head. Your vision blurred, and the purple light flickered before you collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Jinx’s chest tightened as she stared at your unmoving form. Panic threatened to claw its way out of her throat, but she forced herself to act. “Damn it,” she muttered, crouching down and hauling you onto her shoulder.

She darted through the shadows, avoiding enforcers and other dangers as she dragged you to safety. Eventually, she found a small, abandoned safe house nestled in the rooftops.

Once inside, Jinx carefully laid you on a worn mattress. She sat beside you, panting and trembling as she looked over the wounds on your face and legs. Blood streaked your tattoos, the intricate designs disrupted by cuts and bruises. Jinx grabbed a damp cloth and began cleaning the wounds with surprising tenderness.

Her eyes traced over the tattoos that covered your arms and back. At first glance, they seemed like abstract patterns, but as Jinx looked closer, she realized they formed a map—a map of the Undercity. Her breath hitched at the realization. “What the hell…” she whispered.

Your face, despite the bruises, was peaceful in unconsciousness. Jinx’s fingers moved almost instinctively, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

The voices in her head returned, louder this time.

“Why are you even helping her? She’s nothing.”

“She’s everything, isn’t she? Look at her.”

“Shut up. You’re getting attached. You know what happens when you get attached.”

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing unsteady. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…”

The softer voice returned, calm and steady. “She’s changing you. She’s helping you.”

Jinx opened her eyes, her trembling hand tracing along your jawline. The voices quieted, leaving her in a strange, almost serene silence. Her fingers moved mindlessly, tracing your features as if committing them to memory.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”

Your chest rose and fell with each steady breath, offering no answer.

Jinx sighed, pulling her hand back and leaning against the wall. She glanced at the knives you had insisted on carrying, their colorful blades gleaming faintly in the dim light.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx felt… calm. But that calm brought with it a vulnerability she didn’t know how to handle.

“You’re gonna make me soft,” she muttered, her lips twitching into a faint, rueful smile as she continued to keep watch.

Jinx left you reluctantly, her expression a mixture of determination and hesitation as she glanced at your unconscious form one last time. She had to deal with Warwick and get Isha to safety, but this wasn’t over. There was someone else who needed to see what Vander had become. Someone who would understand. She’d find Vi, and they’d confront this together.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A day later, you found yourself limping through the polished streets of Piltover, your body aching from the fight, your mind clouded by exhaustion and anger. You weren’t sure why you came back to the family workshop—maybe to grab a few tools, maybe just out of habit—but the sight of the place brought a sinking feeling to your gut.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed. The familiar hum of machines filled the space, the smell of metal and oil hitting you like a punch to the chest.

But luck wasn’t on your side.

“Well, look who it is,” your father’s voice boomed from across the room, dripping with disdain. You froze mid-step, turning to see both of your parents standing behind the counter.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here,” your mother added, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was cold, the kind of look that had cut you to the core since you were a child.

“I just need a few things,” you muttered, keeping your gaze on the floor as you limped toward the shelves.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to stroll in here like nothing happened,” your father barked, stepping out from behind the counter. “You’re a disgrace. A failure. Everything we warned you about came true. The Undercity turned you into a monster.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to tune them out. But their words kept coming, sharp and relentless.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” your mother hissed. “We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us? Running off to the filth down below? You don’t even belong—”

“Stop it,” you snapped, your voice low but trembling with barely contained fury.

“You don’t even belong to us!” your father spat suddenly, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. “You’re not even our blood.”

The room spun. Your vision blurred, and a sharp, familiar pain erupted behind your eyes. The purple spark flickered in your irises, your breathing heavy and uneven.

“What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cold and trembling.

Before you could do something you might regret, warm arms wrapped around you tightly, grounding you in place. The scent of lilac and gunpowder filled your senses, and you instantly knew who it was.

Caitlyn.

Her presence melted the rage inside you, and you let yourself sag against her, burying your face in her shoulder. You hugged her back, gripping her as if she might disappear.

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn whispered, her hands moving to your face to tilt it up toward her. Her blue eyes searched yours, full of worry and something deeper.

You nodded but avoided her gaze, your voice quiet. “I’m fine.” You didn’t trust yourself to say more, didn’t trust yourself to let her in.

Your parents stormed out of the workshop, still spewing venom. “You don’t deserve someone like her!” your mother yelled. “She doesn’t even know what you are!”

Caitlyn stepped between you and your parents, her head held high. Her voice was calm but laced with authority. “I suggest you stop talking.”

They froze at her tone.

“You might think you know her, but you clearly don’t,” Caitlyn said, her voice icy and cutting. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever realize. And if you dare speak to her like this again, you’ll be dealing with me—and the enforcers.”

The sight of the enforcers behind Caitlyn was enough to send your parents retreating inside without another word. Caitlyn turned back to you, her hand gently wrapping around your wrist. “Come on,” she said softly.

Instead of letting her lead you to her quarters, you took her to the rooftop where you often found solace. You stood there silently as you changed, pulling on a clean shirt and adjusting your knives. Caitlyn stood in the corner, watching you with a mix of admiration and worry.

The tension in the air was palpable.

When you turned to her, Caitlyn stepped forward and held you close, her arms wrapping around you with a softness that made your breath hitch. For a moment, neither of you moved. The proximity, the heat of her body against yours—it was overwhelming.

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her face inches from yours. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, her eyes lingered on yours. The tension between you grew unbearable, and for a split second, you thought she might kiss you.

But you pulled back, the memory of Jinx flashing across your mind. You couldn’t explain it, but it was enough to make you take a step away.

Caitlyn’s face fell, but she recovered quickly. “I need you to stay,” she said, her voice trembling with urgency. “With me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I need to leave. This place—it’s suffocating.”

She grabbed your arm, her grip firm but gentle. “You’re better than this,” she pleaded. “You’re good, even if you don’t see it. You have a choice.”

You snapped, her words cutting deeper than they should have. “Good? Piltover treats the Undercity like dirt. You talk about being better, but look around, Caitlyn. This city isn’t better—it’s rotten. Just like the people who run it.”

She stepped back, stunned. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth,” you shot back.

Caitlyn’s voice rose, the hurt evident. “You don’t belong there, but you don’t belong here, either. You’re an outsider, and you know it!”

Her words sliced through you. Your face twisted in pain before you pulled away from her grasp. “I thought you were different,” you said coldly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn’s hand reached for yours, but you yanked it away, your heart aching as you turned and walked into the night, leaving her standing there with regret and sorrow etched across her face.

_______________

Aht aht ! Its slight AU, let me cook im marinating the chicken right now- it will all come together (I was so invested writing this and it is everywhere but you all gon see what im seeing once it start cooking- im talking about sizzling with the spices then you gonna look at me like 'ahhhhh i smell it- i see it') so sit there and look pretty while i cook this up <3

#wlw #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn #caitlyn x reader #vi arcane #violet arcane #book #fanfiction #lgbtq #love #slow burn

157 notes · View notes

marc-spectorr · 11 months ago

Text

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

pairing: duke leto atreides x fem!reader

summary: It's the night before your wedding to Duke Leto Atreides and he finds you struck by panic about your future in Caladan.

warnings: 3.1k wc. arranged marriage, panic attack, anxiety, mentions of conceiving. my limited dune-lore knowledge. soft!leto.

a/n: first leto fic ahhh!! i may or may not write more parts to this in the future. i had so many ideas but if i wrote them all in one fic, it would be a long one (not to mention it would take 1001 years to finish and post). anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! hope you enjoy :)

—

Caladan.

There is a beauty to it that you cannot deny. It's captivating from the very first glance. An indescribable sight, unparalleled to anywhere else in the universe.

Of all the worlds you could be in at this moment, a part of you is glad it's Caladan. In spite of the circumstances that brought you here, you try to be grateful for it. Surely, there are worse places to live on than this.

Here, the ocean is vast, stretching far beyond the starlit horizon. A fresh breeze carries the salty scent of the water towards you. It tickles your skin as if it were a feather, the light coolness sending goosebumps along your arms. You tug your shawl more closely around your shoulders.

It is far from the hot desert landscape you know and love. Despite its recent hardships, that planet was once home to you. It still is. You wonder how long it will be before you consider Caladan as such. It's been one week since your arrival, and you're in a period of adjustment, which in truth, has not been too easy.

The beach is empty, unsurprising as the moon has moved far past its highest point in the sky. You can't sleep. You haven't for so long. Similar to all the nights prior, you had tossed and turned endlessly under silken sheets before deciding to go for a walk. You found no comfort in your bed despite the mattress beneath you being the softest there ever was.

It could be the chambers themselves, surrounded by four dark walls that are still very much foreign to you. You must get used to it, you remind yourself. In fact, it's more than just a room that you must get used to.

Tomorrow, your life will change more than it already has when you moved to Caladan.

Tomorrow is the wedding—your wedding. Many esteemed members of the Great Houses will be in attendance, alongside your closest family and friends, who are now worlds away from you. They will all be present to witness you exchange vows with Duke Leto Atreides, a man you barely know.

You exhale a deep, long sigh and draw your knees under your chin. Gentle waves lap onto the shore, the white foam almost reaching your toes before ebbing away. You watch in comfortable silence, the hypnotic rhythm of the waves creating a sense of calm.

Unwittingly, your mind combs through recent events. You spent plenty of these last few days surrounded by those more interested in your upcoming nuptials than you are. You've grown weary of feigning smiles every second in their company, of pretending to be okay when you are far from it.

You feel alone. You are alone.

It’s a sacrifice—leaving behind the life you had to help your struggling home world. Things are changing faster than the time you have to process them. But you can't afford to wait—the sooner you marry Leto, the sooner your father and your people's burdens will go away.

You are doing the right thing. The noble thing. It's what you were raised to do. The last thing you wish is to be seen as a disappointment.

Still, it doesn't mean you have your worries and doubts. You lack experience, having never courted someone before. You question whether or not you would be fit to be a wife to the stranger who is the Duke of Caladan. You're well aware of the responsibilities you would have to uphold, the expectation that one day you will need to bear him an heir…

You shut your eyes, trying to push past the feeling of your heart starting to pick up and thud heavily against your ribs. But the pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach grows and grows, and it's a losing battle. Not even the ocean waves that mesmerized you moments ago could distract you from the mounting panic inside.

Your thoughts batter you from within like a storm raging out of control. The pressure and expectations others have on you— that you have on yourself— can't be stopped.

They're too loud; they refuse to be ignored this time around.

Your body trembles, your breaths are short and shallow, and it feels like you are drowning; you're helplessly caught in a dangerous current that pulls you under the water. The weight in your chest drags you down and deeper, sinking and sinking until you hit the very bottom of the depths of your own mind, deprived of any air, any light.

It's only until a voice calls out your name over and over again that you resurface. Warm, gentle hands urge you to sit right back up, and you don't have it in you to fight against them. You don't remember curling up on your side, wound in a tight little ball, nearly burrowing yourself into the sand bed as if wanting to be swallowed whole.

"Breathe, darling... Listen to my voice and just breathe, alright? One... two... three..."

You can't see him, not through the hot, stinging tears obscuring your eyes. But you can hear him. His voice's hazy, soft lull is strangely familiar, yet you cannot place whose it is.

He coaxes you repeatedly, and you focus on his words as if they are your one and only lifeline—as if they are the calming waves reaching the shoreline.

You do as he says. You breathe.

"One... two... three... That's it, my lady. Deep breaths for me, and again— one... two... three... Good girl, and again. Breathe..."

You're unsure how long has passed by the time your heart slows, and your breathing evens out. Your blurred vision clears once your tears have settled, and your eyes widen when you recognize the face before you.

Duke Leto Atreides kneels beside you, dressed in a manner you have never seen him in. He has on a loose white shirt and dark lounge bottoms, his graying head of curls mussed by the wind blowing past.

You're uncertain why he's at the beach alone at this late hour despite being seemingly ready for bed. Perhaps concerned guards informed him of your wandering about the castle in the dead of night. Did he come all this way in search of you?

Leto’s dark eyes search your face for the reason of your distress. Embarrassment sweeps over your cheeks— you cannot imagine how much of a pitiful mess you look. God, what if you've ruined it? What if seeing you this way, so weak, and frightened, and pathetic, has Leto wishing to rescind his agreement to marry you? What if, what if—

"Hey, shh… Relax. There is no need to fret," Leto soothes. He must have seen the worry in your eyes, but instead of ridicule as you anticipated, he looks at you with concern.

You cast your gaze down, catching sight of your hand in his. He hasn't let go of it since finding you, and when he notices your muscles tense up from the anxiety that seizes your body once more, he squeezes.

Leto squeezes your hand firmly but nowhere near the point of pain. His words are a quiet murmur in your ears. "Don't go back there, darling. Stay here, on this beach. Squeeze my hand back so I know you're here with me. Can you do that for me, please?"

With his other hand, Leto places a finger under your chin to tip it upwards, meeting your eyes. Again, he holds your hand tightly and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. You concentrate on him, matching your breaths to his. The tension starts to slip away bit by bit, and when it does, you finally squeeze his hand back.

"There you go. Just breathe, you're alright," Leto murmurs with a small smile. It dawns on you how close he is when the sound of the ocean becomes second to his voice. "Better?"

You swallow, then nod following a brief pause, not trusting yourself to speak.

Moving slowly so as not to startle you, Leto picks up your shawl from the ground, dusting it clean of grains of sand before draping it over your shoulders.

You expect him to leave, seeing you have regained some semblance of composure. You much prefer that he would. You can't handle explaining to Leto what was wrong. Is wrong.

The air turns silent as you face the water, wiping the dried-up tears from your cheeks with your fingers. You don't see Leto in your peripheral vision, but he's there, watching you. You can feel it.

"Here," you hear Leto say. Glancing to the side, you find him still sitting next to you. He offers his handkerchief, gently motioning it toward you when he senses your hesitation.

With the slightest smile, you accept the piece of cloth, whispering a "thanks" and looking away.

It occurs to you then that this is your first true moment with Leto. Before today, you had only seen glimpses of him. The most time you have spent with him was during your first encounter, and even then, it wasn't for long.

You chalked it up to Leto having no genuine interest in you. Why would he? He has duties that are much more pressing than entertaining you.

It's not much of a surprise. It would be wrong of you to expect for more. Ultimately, this marriage is not one for love but born out of necessity. A political alliance. A guarantee that your people will be well taken care of. That's the agreement.

Not to mention, you've heard them— those hushed talks amongst the servants and guards about how Caladan does not stand to gain anything from the union.

They are not wrong; many have supposedly expressed concern, including members of the Duke's inner circle. You wonder if he will come to regret his decision one day.

"You've had quite a fright there."

Leto's voice cuts through the silence between you. He shuffles from behind, sitting where he can better see you. You stop yourself from glancing down; it would be rude, and you don't want to tarnish both your image and your family's name even more than you already have.

"I-I am deeply sorry, my lord. You shouldn't have to see that," you manage to get out, catching the way Leto's brows knit together in response.

"There's no shame in such. Why apologize?" he asks you in a soft tone. "And please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Leto. After all, we are betrothed to one another."

Your throat suddenly dries at the reminder that the man before you is your soon-to-be husband. You wring your hands in your lap and give him a nod, skirting from answering his earlier question.

Leto is quick to pick up your nervousness. You can almost see his brain working to piece it all together and grasp what was happening when he stumbled upon you.

You dread what words Leto might say, fearing they will be judgments made against you. You hide from his piercing stare, picking at your nails until a pair of rough yet gentle hands gathers yours, halting you.

Leto squeezes your hands softly, very much like he did before, and it soothes the part of you that has always ached but you could never get rid of.

"You do not have to carry your burdens alone, my lady," Leto murmurs, leaning to catch your eyes once more, and he does. "Whatever it is, unload it on me. Now, tell me what's wrong."

It's almost cruel that your instinct is to doubt him. But if the sincerity bleeding into his voice wasn't enough for you to give him a chance, then it's the tenderness in his gaze. You see the understanding in them, the concern and genuine desire to ease your troubles away.

Your initial perception of Leto has been wrong. You've been wary of him. Intimidated. But this is no man holding no care for you. He could have easily walked away after finding you amidst a fit. Instead, he stayed. He's here when you were convinced he would never find the time to be.

You open up to Leto like a floodgate, admitting to him the thoughts that plagued your mind from the day you learned about this marital arrangement, your nervousness for tomorrow's wedding and your fear of solitude in Caladan in the days that would follow.

You feel selfish, guilty even, for saying all of this out loud. You have no right to complain when the locals here have treated you with only kindness. Others would dream of being in your shoes—of living in a beautiful land, gaining an honorable title, and having a husband who would make you the envy of many.

Why must a blessing cause you great grief?

Leto listens to every word with undivided attention. He lets you speak freely and honestly, never once interfering between your sobs and sentences. He clears his throat only when the whispering waves of the ocean have lingered in the space between the two for some time.

"You are right when you said some of my advisors opposed me marrying you," Leto begins softly, gauging every bit of your reaction as he speaks. "They told me it would bring no benefit to House Atreides—that all we'll do is use up precious time and resources for a dying planet already beyond saving. Their words, not mine."

There is a quiet beat. Leto glances towards the horizon, where the first faint inklings of dawn break through the skies. He continues: "I realized then that those men do not uphold the same values I believe in. Caladan has more than enough riches to go around. There is no humanity in turning a blind eye to people's suffering—especially when we have it in our power to provide aid.

"I've had plenty of disagreements with my advisors, but I couldn't allow those without hearts to remain on my council. My lack of presence is not because I had no interest in getting to know you. Rather, I was ensuring those who showed little care for my bride and her ancestral land no longer served as advisors of mine—a task that regrettably stole time I would have spent with you."

You fall silent. The breath that leaves you seemingly takes more of the load on your being. Your respect for Leto grows. You see now the kind, thoughtful, benevolent man he is.

How could you have been so wrong about him? You'd been irrational, too assuming. So afraid he would turn out to be the complete opposite when he gave you no valid reason that he's such. You should not have been quick to judge his character when you had known nothing about him in the first place.

"I... thank you, my lor—Leto," you eventually say, turning to him. Shame and remorse cling to your tongue. "I am terribly sorry again. Had my mind been sound, I would've realized my distress is unwarranted."

"Nonsense. You're overwhelmed; your worries were reasonable. All I want is the two of us to be on the same page," Leto replies. The warm smile that adorns his lips when you correct yourself and address him by name lingers. “Let's start over, shall we then?"

You watch as he stands on his feet, reaching out his hand towards you. With Leto's help, you pull yourself up from the sandy floor, shaking off the pins and needles stinging your limbs. He holds his hand out once more, this time for a handshake.

"Hello, I am Leto and welcome to Caladan. It is a pleasure to meet you and an honor to have your presence here."

A smile blooms across your face as you shake his hand, formally introducing yourself to Leto the way he had. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this. I, my father, and our people are eternally grateful for your generosity."

Leto makes a small bow of his head, capturing your hand between his own. Something inside you feels lighter now. The air around you, once thick like water, isn't anymore.

"You will no longer have to worry about your home world. I will make certain they receive all that they need—as for you, as well. I am here for you, even if it's simply as an ear to listen."

A pause. Leto's voice melts a touch softer. He looks at you with eyes deep and brown as the bark of a pine. "In a matter of hours, you and I will wed. It's merely for formality's sake. What goes on between us as husband and wife is nobody's business but ours. Please know that I ask for and expect nothing in return for agreeing to this arrangement. You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to. Ever. Is that understood?"

You take in Leto's words, becoming aware of the unspoken ones, those hidden between the lines. Their implications settle on you, and you let out a quiet breath of relief into the air.

"I do," you assure before adding, for what could be the hundredth time since Leto has joined you, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

The sun peaks over the skyline, casting bright golden rays over Caladan. Leto briefly glances in the distance, the silver strands of his mane and beard catching the light, and they glimmer before your eyes. He smiles wide, the lines on his face crinkling as he watches the sunrise.

You also find yourself smiling, spending a moment more studying Leto's profile before turning to what's ahead of you.

Caladan takes your breath away, even more so in the daylight. You can fully appreciate it now that the storms in your mind have passed, and it's as clear as the skies.

"It's a beautiful day to get married." Leto remarks as the two of you gaze out to the water. After basking in the peaceful silence, he meets your eyes again, offering you his arm like a gentleman would. "Come, let me escort you back to your room. We both should rest up a bit before the festivities start."

Nodding in agreement, you quietly say goodbye to the ocean and allow Leto to guide you away from the beach. The sand beneath your shoes eventually turns to a rocky pathway at the foot of Castle Caladan, its grandeur towering over you.

A warm hand slips into yours.

"From now on, you will never feel alone," Leto says, pressing a soft squeeze to your hand. His hold is comforting, and reassuring. “You will always have me at your side, darling. I promise you that."

You smile at Leto, feeling something tender unfold in your chest when he returns a smile of his own.

You believe him, and for once, you think you will be okay.

—

taglist: @pigeonmama

please note that i’m starting a new taglist for my fics. if you would like to be included, let me know :)

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #dune fanfic #duke leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #my fics

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simplyhughes · 11 months ago

Note

If you’re taking requests, can I get a Hughes brother (I don’t care which one) childhood friend to lovers fluff?

Lake House

The summer when y/n and Luke have given into their feelings (*^ω^*)

WC: 1743

Anon thank you so much for this request! It was a lot of fun!!!

Pairing: LH43 x Reader

Warnings: None (?) just fluffy fluff. There may be grammatical errors, my apologies!!

Stars decorated the sky, painting patterns across the earth. Crickets chirped softly while teasing banter and laughter mingled with the gentle melodies of the top hits radio, enveloping the outdoor patio of the Hughes’ lake house. You and your family had made their way to Michigan every summer, staying with the friends you call family. Your mother and Mrs. Hughes, who insists you call her Ellen, shared a college dorm, and the rest is history.

The two families gathered around a lit fire sharing stories from throughout the year, making up for the time spent apart. You stepped out onto the porch after using the restroom to see that all the folding chairs and loveseats had been filled. You gave a tug to your sweatshirt sleeve, scanning the seating situation to decide your next move. The youngest of the Hughes brothers, Luke, glanced your way, initiating eye contact.

Being the same age as Luke created a unique bond between you, distinct from your relationships with his two older brothers. When Quinn and Jack would sneak out to meet with some girls by the dock, it would be you and Luke in your makeshift fort binging movies. Or when everyone would pile onto the boat to go wake surfing, Luke would stay behind cause he knows you get seasick. It was the stuff like that growing up that made you two so close. Your mothers would gush behind your backs, betting on your future together on who would confess first. But you two were young and oblivious, just living in the moment, cherishing all the time you could be together before summer came to an end.

As your eyes met Luke's, his demeanor changed; his eyes softened but his body tensed. He raised his hand, tapping his leg, signaling you to come and sit with him. For some reason, you were slightly taken aback. It is not like you haven't shared a seat before… you guys used to have sleepovers and share a bed. But it may be the fact that you both are all grown up and that Luke got a whole hell of a lot more handsome. You mouthed “Are you sure?” over to the boy, and he just replied with a nod. The conversations around you continued as you walked across the wooden patio.

"Hey..." you began, glancing down at Luke. His gaze rose to meet yours, and a grin spread across his face as he wrapped one of his large hands around your waist, almost pulling you onto his lap. You followed his lead and took a seat. His arm then encircled your waist completely, and he rested his head on your shoulder. Your body initially tensed at the sudden display of affection, but soon you relaxed against his chest as the two of you eased into a casual conversation.

Luke's older brothers didn't miss his bold actions. Quinn nudged Jack in the side and discreetly pointed in your direction. Jack stifled a laugh followed by a playful jab to the gut by his older brother. “Who knew Lukey had game?” Jack joked with a stupid smirk. Quinn merely shrugged, signaling Jack to halt his teasing before you and Luke caught on.

Throughout the rest of the summer, Luke's gestures did not simmer down. Anyone who didn't know the pair would think they were a couple. Whenever you were together, one of you was always hanging on to the other, like a support beam. If one of you headed to get food, the other promptly followed suit. And if one of you emerged from the lake sopping wet, the other immediately wrapped them in a warm towel. Luke's actions weren't entirely surprising to you. Longing touches, tight embraces, the gentle tucking of hair behind your ear—all felt like natural extensions of your friendship. But both your mothers saw. They saw the subtle dance of affection that whispered of deeper feelings. It was in the lingering gazes, the softness of their voices when speaking to each other, and the way their laughter seemed to harmonize effortlessly. Luke's brothers could see it. They could see the unspoken attraction between you, clear as day. Deep down you knew it, Luke too. Yet both of you could not rattle the idea that the other didn't reciprocate.

The boat ripped through the water under the control of Jack. “Jack ease up man! You're gonna kill us all,” Quinn yelped. Luke, who sat lazily right next to you, just chuckled at their antics. You looked a little pale in the face.

“Hey… You okay y/n?” Luke questioned, dragging his hand through his damp curls.

“Does he not know how to drive this thing?” You complained sluggishly.

“Awh is someone feeling a little seasick?” He teased. “Jack slow down you asshat or let Huggy take over!” He shouted over to the two boys who still happened to be fussing at the wheel.

“C’mere…” Luke slung his arm around your shoulder and you instinctively rested your head against his.

Jack shuffled out of the driver's seat annoyed. He shot a glance over in your and Luke's direction.

“Oh my god, can you guys just kiss and get this over with already… Jesus,” Jack mumbled, letting out his frustration. The color returned to your face as Quinn took over, but the pale was replaced with an embarrassing red. You hid your face in Luke's chest trying to ignore Jack's words.

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke retorted. “You're such a dick.”

The sun had set and the boat pulled into the dock. The sky was all different hues of pinks, yellows, oranges, and reds. Jack had rushed off the boat to meet up with this ‘rocket’ he was talking to leaving you, Luke, and Quinn. “Don't worry Huggy we can clean this up,” Luke said, gesturing to the empty beer cans, towels, and sunscreen that littered the boat. “You sure?” Quinn hummed. You could tell he was tired; I guess it is hard work being the boat's captain. Luke nodded back at his eldest brother while you let out a groan. The boat bobbed as Quinn stepped off. You shuffled across the boat's floor, grabbing a trash bag. Luke tossed the empty cans into the bag that you held open. “Maybe you picked the wrong sport, Lukey,” you joked as he threw another can in, mimicking a basketball toss. Your teamwork was pretty effective, only taking 15 minutes to get the boat back in good shape. Luke hopped off the boat onto the dock. His hand extended to grab yours.

“M’lady,” He snorted, taking a bow, helping you off the boat.

You hit him with your hips. “Dork,” you rebutted.

As the colors of the sunset faded into the velvety embrace of the night sky, you and Luke found yourselves on the dock, your feet dangling over the edge. The only sounds were the gentle whispers of the wind through the trees that seemed to be as tall as skyscrapers, the crickets that chirped into the early hours of the morning, and the crashing of water as it rolled into the muddy lakeside shore.

Luke let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on you with a look that made your heart flutter. You tried to keep your composure, your eyes focused straight ahead. But you simply could not help yourself any longer.

"What are you looking at, Hughes?" you quipped, breaking the silence.

"You," he replied simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his hand gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a warmth deep within you.

"Me?" you echoed, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"Only you," he murmured, inching closer until there was barely any space between you.

He took his hand, guiding a piece of your fallen hair behind your ear. His hand then stayed resting on your cheek. Placing your hand on top of his you spoke, "Luke…".

“Can I kiss you y/n?” he interrupted.

Your eyes dilated, still staring back at his. Your throat went dry, parched by the sudden rush of adrenaline, while your heart pounded against your ribcage, drowning out all other sounds. The only thing you could do was nod. He brought his face close an inch away from yours. His hot breath whispered against your cheek. Time stretched, suspended in a haze of anticipation before his lips finally met yours. His unoccupied hand quickly found a new place to reside, resting on your hip, pulling you in as close as possible. Your lips parted, both in search of air. That single kiss was not enough for Luke. He dove back in, pressing kisses to the side of your neck, trailing behind your ear, with his hair tickling your jaw. The new sensation made you gasp, locking your fingers into his hair. “Luke…” you groaned.

Eventually, the heat had worn down, leaving both parties in shock at the events that had just occurred.

“Y/n…” Luke started, “I have liked you- wait no…” he stopped himself. “I have loved you for the longest time. At the end of every summer, my stomach twists itself in a knot. I dread leaving the lake, I dread leaving summer behind, but I dread leaving you the most. I am not sure how I have been able to get myself through the long winters and the busy fall. It may be the lingering thought that I will eventually make my way back to you. You are my best friend, you always have been and you always will be. I don't wanna screw this up, and if you don't like me back we can pretend this never even happened…” he rambled.

“Luke.” You cut him off.

“Yeah?” He quickly replied, turning his eyes onto you.

“We literally just made out you idiot… I would hope I like you back.” His chest sank back in relief with an exhale. “I cannot picture my life without you.” You added with a more serious tone. “We have grown up together and I expect to grow old with you.” Luke didn't reply with words. He pulled you back into a deep kiss.

The sun had officially set, leaving a blanket of twinkling lights. The young couple spent the night together in the wake of new romantic revelations. This was the night where their friendship had blossomed into something more.

#jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes 43 #hockey #nhl #new jersey devils #simplyhughes

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moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

Text

dreams unwind, love's a state of mind

a/n: i am posting the prompts i'm doing for challenges a bit late cause i haven't been here. but this is my first ever days of future past logan fic and i am nervous! i originally planned to do it in the 70s but then an even angstier idea hit me. and honestly i'm kind of in love with how it turned out. this isn't as much smut as i intended, but who cares. enjoy!

tuna-tober 2024: day eleven - tears + "i'd be lost without you." + breast worship

summary: they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn't do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI 18+ ONLY!! angst, fluff, reuniting, tears, grief, logan has ptsd, mention of death, love, breast worship, body worship, biting, dry humping, they almost get it on in an empty classroom.

He never felt his heart beat this fast. A rapid thud, thud, thud against his ribs as he took long strides through the halls. His eyes scanned each corner and passing student for the sight of someone familiar. Logan didn't have any worries that you would be unrecognizable. He didn't worry that you were different.

His soul would know you from miles away—the connection that tied you to him stronger than his will to survive.

No matter what Charles told him. He didn't go back for him or Jean or Storm. He didn't fight to change history just to get a chance to save his family. That remained only part of the reason. Logan survived—he clawed his way through the past—for one sole purpose. He would finally get a second chance; he'd get to see you smile again, hear you laugh, feel your lips against his.

Going through hell became worth it if it meant getting the opportunity to have you in his arms.

Students pushed past him on their way to lunch. Several greeted him with a term he would have to grow accustomed to—professor—others tossing him a warm hello before they scurried by. He seemed to have a solidified life here. The promise of peace in a world that once ripped him in two. He wasn't just the Wolverine in these hallowed halls.

He was Logan Howlett too.

"Baby!" he called, running down the empty hallway towards the set of classrooms. "Princess are you here?"

Charles directed him in his mind, pushing images of moments he couldn't recall to the front of his mind. Smiles hidden in secret during meetings packed in a too small office. Touches that you hoped went unnoticed through training sessions and meals in the dining room. Jokes about the two professors who snuck into each other's rooms at night for months on end, long before they finally decided to move in together.

Time he'd never get back. Memories that never belonged to him in the first place.

Would you like this version of him? The Logan that had seen far worse, who endured a war, who held your dying body in his arms as a battle went on behind him. Would you love the scars that ran just a bit deeper? The pain that lingered for far longer than you deserved.

Fear gripped his heart at the thought of anything other than your love. He wouldn't survive a life spent without you. He went through that once and every day felt as if his soul was being torn from his body. Each gruesome wake up to move places and fight for mutants who may never make it out alive, became lifeless—colorless—because you weren't there.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, turning in a circle, his chest heaving with gasped breaths. The air seemed to be stripped clean of your scent, no mark of your existence filled the mansion as it once did.

He felt his body seize—the familiar numbing ache trickling down through his body.

No reason to live resided in his heart if you weren't here to spend it with him.

"Princess!" he practically shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Fuck. You gotta be here. You gotta–"

"Logan?"

The soft lilt of your voice forming his name on your lips punched him in the chest, effectively stealing whatever breath he clung to. He whirled around, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, as you popped out of the classroom door behind him. He'd never seen such beauty until today. A wash of relief flooded his body, the weight on his shoulders landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

He drank in the sight of you with a smile. The curve of your hips in a too tight black and white pinstripe pencil skirt, the way your white button down rolled at the sleeves hugged your breasts—the black lace bra faintly evident against the sunlight that streamed through the windows. He devoured you with his gaze alone. Yet the hunger still persisted. It ate at his heart, begged him to move, to gather you in his arms.

But for the life of him...he was unable to gain control of his limbs.

They were stuck. Frozen against time as you moved a bit closer, your black heels clicking on the hardwood floors.

You looked exactly the same. Though some differences lay in the style of your hair, the red lips painted deep and enticing, the glasses tucked into the front of your shirt, Logan felt as if you were ripped right from his memories.

His girl. His princess.

"Baby," he murmured, doing what he could to catch his breath.

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed as you regarded him with a flash of concern. "Is everything okay? Charles let me know you were looking for me."

The mention of the man's name forced him to finally move. What little of Charles still lingered in the back of his mind quickly retreated—the mission to find you now complete. This was his way of giving the both of you some privacy. A chance to reconcile with the woman he thought he'd never see again. Logan thanked him silently, promising to speak after all was said and done—after he got a chance to hold you for the first time in nearly a decade.

"You're here," he sighed, his feet moving faster than either of you expected.

"Of course I'm here. I had a class to teach. Quantum mechanics, well actually more a study of molecular physics today. I thought I let you know at breakfast–" His hands gripped your waist roughly, pushing you back into your empty classroom with a growl. "Logan!"

His foot shut the door, hand blindly fumbling for the lock, as he dragged you against his body with his other arm. An explanation would be given later in the dark confines of your shared bedroom. He'd explain it all to you, every gruesome and grave detail. All the questions he knew swirled inside your head—ever the curious woman he fell hopelessly in love with.

But right now he'd have you on the nearest desk (preferably yours). In this fleeting moment he would reclaim what was so brutally taken from him; the love he felt now pouring out from every part of his body. Beating in tune with his erratic heart.

"What are you doing?" you gasped, hands pressed against his chest to steady yourself. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

His stomach fluttered, the sensation of being on cloud nine now a reality the longer he looked at your pretty form. Hands quickly roamed his shoulders and arms as you checked for any injuries that might appear at a moment's notice. Nevermind that he healed quicker than any other mutant in this school. Nevermind that he stared at you with an expression that could only be described as awestruck.

You still did what you felt was necessary to ease the growing worry in the back of your mind.

"'M more than okay baby." The low rasp of his voice forced your gaze up to his within seconds. A soft oh echoing in the empty room.

No explanation was needed when he looked at you with pupils that devoured the hazel of his iris. You knew what he wanted—could feel the desperation in his tight grip. The thickening sweetness of your scent curled around his senses like a drug, filling his body with a need that permeated the air.

"I missed you," he breathed. "So much."

Logan wished there was a way to convey how much anguish his heart went through in the years after your death. The nights spent yearning for your touch. The memory of you passing onto a plane he couldn't follow burned onto the back of his eyelids. He couldn't escape what happened.

Death was an easy option for him. A choice he would have made in the blink of an eye. But the laws of his own being were unable to be severed. He'd never be able to join you—forever stuck in a world without your light.

He longed to tell you all of it, but feared he might fuck it up.

"You saw me a few hours ago," you grinned.

"God I wish that were true."

Your mouth parted, eyes overflowing with worry, and Logan could no longer fathom a moment without your kiss. Dipping down swiftly he slotted his lips against yours with a groan. His hands gripping any plush part of your body he could reach. Unable to stick to one spot because there was so much of you he missed. The feel of your ass in his hands as he gripped you close, how you blissfully sighed into his mouth, relenting to his hold.

Kissing you felt as if he gained back all the years he missed out on. The time he thought was unsalvageable.

The feel of your tongue pressing against his drove him over to the edge of madness. A feral moan coated in a gravel hoarseness ripped from his throat, his fingers squeezing your body to drag you even closer. He sucked on your bottom lip, licked into your mouth with whimpered broken sounds, and refused to stop even when you pulled back for air.

"W-We're in a classroom Logan," you gasped, high-pitched and layered in a neediness that matched his own.

"I don't fuckin' care."

"I don't want to get caught–"

Sucking your tongue into his mouth with a grunt, he began to walk until the back of your thighs hit the grand desk you sat at. The plaque of your name now lay with a pile of papers that landed on the floor. He groped your breasts, tugging the buttons until they popped free—scattering across the room with soft pings.

"My shirt!"

He grinned. "I'll help ya find them later, princess."

"You're not fucking me here. We have a room for a reason." The words were accompanied by a moan, your head tipping back to give him the expanse of your neck.

Space he happily began to sink his teeth into. He sucked at your skin as he pulled at your bra, his thumbs running across peaked nipples that practically begged for his attention. An act he was more than happy to partake in. With a grunt, he sucked one into his mouth, spit smearing into your soft skin with the promise of making a mess wherever he could.

"F-Fuck," you panted, fingers ripping at his hair as your hips canted up into his. "What's gotten into you baby?"

He answered with a deep grind of his hips into yours, the sticky precum practically drowning his cock in the confines of his jeans. Self control wasn't his strongest ability at this very moment. Not when he could feel the heat of your cunt call his name. He'd be surprised if he lasted long enough to sink into you—to finally indulge in the warmth of your body.

Teeth dug into the side of your breast, his hands tugging your cunt along his jeans as tears pricked his eyes. Losing you wasn't the worst part of all of this. Not being able to remember the last time he felt you this way—the final day of joy in your relationship before it happened—would forever haunt him. A memory he should have solidified in the back of his mind slipped free before his very eyes.

How did you smile at him? Was it a stolen moment by firelight? Were you smiling just to appease his growing anxiety about losing you? Or did you feel a flicker of joy?

For the life of him...he couldn't bring that moment to mind.

"Logan?" Your hands tugged his head back, thumbs wiping away tears he didn't know started to fall. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

He grinned, broken and marred and bleeding all the love his weary body could muster. "I'd be lost with you."

You paused, disbelief shrouding your features. "What are you talking about baby? Did something happen?"

The time to reveal it all would be now, but how could he move past this? Your breasts were free and coated in his spit, your eyes were darkened with wanton lust. To him you would never look more beautiful. Entirely disheveled, yet still willing to help him by any means necessary.

You would always be—and forever remain—the other half to his scarred soul.

"I'll tell you later," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your wrist. "I'll tell you everything."

"But–"

He shook his head. "Lemme have this. Okay? I need this."

A discerning smile crossed your lips as he leaned in for another kiss, his body pressing you down until your back hit the desk. This certainly wasn't how he envisioned your reunion happening. A quickie in the confines of an empty classroom that you'd eventually teach in a few hours later. But Logan couldn't fathom waiting. He'd spent years pining after a soul that might never walk the same ground as him.

A brief moment of bliss. A short forever in the allotted time.

This was something he could steal for himself.

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