#watch me get unhinged about my setting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsdagger · 3 months ago

Text

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night.

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again.

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?”

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad.

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you.

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence.

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend.

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover.

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard.

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip.

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it.

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it.

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice.

You need something new, something fresh, babe.

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person.

Trust me, it’ll be good for you.

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind.

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months.

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes.

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome.

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember.

Fuck.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.

And oh.

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new.

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring.

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else.

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires.

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.”

Confusion floods his features.

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips.

“She cheated on you,” you retort.

“How did–”

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.”

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip.

“Hey, you raised him,” you joke.

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

You look at him pointedly.

“Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little.

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.”

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch.

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.”

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?”

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify.

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering.

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks.

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?”

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them.

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again.

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar.

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease.

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp.

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom.

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning.

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate.

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined.

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.”

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?”

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words.

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear.

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so.

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him.

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness.

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out.

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk.

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror.

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be.

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn.

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it.

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats.

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites.

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard.

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him.

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic.

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh.

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will.

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does.

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot.

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?”

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly.

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’ – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard.

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.”

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought.

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock.

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.”

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?”

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper.

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release.

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you.

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him.

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you.

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you.

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls.

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip.

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin.

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror.

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands.

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock.

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you.

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.”

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy.

And then it hits you.

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with?

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one.

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly.

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters.

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya.

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth.

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to.

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth.

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more.

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.”

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give.

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks.

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you.

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.”

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out.

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t.

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you.

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting.

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun.

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number.

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo.

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine.

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong.

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home.

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel.

He’s already watching you.

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid.

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash.

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

#wa-fucking-zoo bitch #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw daddy kink #tw dubcon #noelle's workshop

3K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 4 months ago

Text

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

2K notes · View notes

alastor-x-reader-stories · 4 months ago

Text

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader

You were a strange addition to the hotel.

A quiet sinner demon with no merit to speak of who just waltzed in without much fuss or fanfare. No blowing up walls, no trying to kill anyone, no entertainment what so ever.

You were so boring, Alastor didn't even want to mess with you.

...

At first.

Then, quiet and unassuming, you slowly established yourself as both over-forgiving and sharply blunt.

It was amusing watching the whiplash on a demon's face when you flip between them so much in a single day.

Once, Angel Dust was high as a kite and practically lobbed a brick at your head. Your response was "No harm done, don't worry about it." later that same day, the spider-fellow draped an arm around Vaggie's shoulder and slung some sort of ridiculous insult. You moved his arm off of her and said "You need to learn to watch what you say or I'm ripping this arm off and shoving it down your throat."

Usually that last threat would lead to some other comment, but the flat way you said it and moved on to a different subject left the spider fellow standing there without much else to say.

How amusing!

Even he was no exemption from your two-faced nature, it seemed. One moment apologizing for accidentally blocking his path, the next informing him that you'd use his antlers as forks if he didn't leave you alone. Silly little threats that were oh-so pathetic when said by such a...underwhelming, individual.

Alastor's favorite of yours was 'I'm going to eat your kidneys'. Then how rude you were to decline the cooking lesson he offered!

Typically your quips and comments were about trivial things, little things that Alastor would purposely do in order to get a reaction.

THIS TIME, THOUGH

He had a particularly annoying run in with Vox one day, trudging back to the hotel with his patience already at its limit. Husk knew better than to comment on it, shying away from him as he prowled through the lobby. Angel Dust was at the bar counter, eyeing Alastor as he strode on through.

"Ya look like shit." He commented passively.

"Thank you ever so much for the keen observation." Alastor said with a smile. Husker flinched, ears dropping. It was only then he noticed you there as well, a forgotten drink in your hand as you gaze lingered on Husk, a frown setting to your lips.

The rest of that particular exchange wasn't of any significance. It wasn't until later when you sought him out in the Hotel's parlor things escalated.

"You need to calm down."

His grin hitched up and he leered down at you. You were more than a foot shorter than him and your big eyes did little to make you look more intimidating.

"I beg your pardon, dear?"

"I said you need to calm down." Your tail swished in agitation. "I get you had a bad day but that's no reason to take it out on other people."

Alastor chuckled "Oh goodness. My apologies, my dear. But you have absolutely no ground to tell me to do anything."

He back you up against the wall, hands planted on either side of you. His antler stretched out and his eyes took on the appearance of dials as he leaned down. Sharp teeth grazed your face, hot breath stung your eyes. Claws carved their way into the wall on either side of you.

"So, my dear, what was it you said? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it."

"I said you need to calm down."

Alastor's eye twitched, his grin twisting into something so much more unhinged. No hesitation. Were you stupid?

A look at you said yes, but you knew damn well the danger you were in. You were trembling, pupils shaking breath shallow. But you still had the nerve to speak to him that way?

"All right, what if I don't?" He purred, tracing a claw over the side of your face "Go on ahead and let me hear whatever pathetic threat you have."

"I'll bite you." spoken in that flat tone of yours.

Alastor laughed "As amusing as always-"

Pain burst from his shoulder, sharp and sticky as fangs burst through flesh. Perhaps it was shock that had him stumble back, perhaps it was amusement that allowed you to get away from him. You opened your jaw, withdrawing your teeth from his shoulder as skin and cloth clung to the spaces between your bloodied fangs.

You gave him a pointed glare as your wiped some excess blood off of your face and prowled off without so much as giving him a second glance.

He had every right to hunt you down and rip apart your soul right then and there.

Instead he found himself losing his balance, falling onto his rear on the floor. Fingers curled over the fresh and large bite mark on his shoulder. The damn thing nearly covered the entirety of between his collar bone and his arm socket.

He pulled his hand away to stare absently at his own blood.

You must be venomous. That was the only way to explain why his heart was suddenly racing and his face suddenly felt far too warm. His breathing was off, shallow and uneven.

You actually bit him.

Were your threats actually not so empty?

Did you really intend to use his antlers as forks?

He laughed to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. This was ridiculous! If you meant even half the strange threats you threw at him....then...

Well. He was in danger.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

1K notes · View notes

starsofang · 6 months ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

1K notes · View notes

rafesdollette · 1 month ago

Text

NEW NEIGHBOR: BOY NEXT DOOR SERIES (1)

PAIRING: NEIGHBOR!RAFE X LUX!BABYDOLL!READER

SUMMARY It's your first day in obx and your neighbor isn't exactly what you expected.

GENRE: Fluff!

WORD COUNT 1,138

a/n: EEE first series I'm so excited!! This whole concept has been in the making before I even started this account so I'm so glad I'm finally making it happen. by the way, I don't care about this being a lil cliche cause I write for me and my enjoyment so if you don't like it, don't take the time out of your day to make a comment about it. SCROLL

Setting your last box down that's labeled 'kitchen', you glance out of your window, seeing a truck drive past your house and park at the one next to you. You were aware someone lived next to you but you weren't exactly sure who since no one was there when you first arrived.

This is your first home away from your family who lives all the way in Virginia and you've lived in that house since you could remember, so you're not sure what to expect of a neighbor.

As the car comes to a stop in the parking lot, you watch as a tall, short haired blonde guy gets out of the truck. His back was turned to you but you could tell by just the way he walked that he was entitled and maybe even a little snobby.

But still, you were a nice person so of course you were still gonna make an effort to talk to him.

So, you make your way over to his lawn as he mutters some sort of sarcastic comment under his breath as he watches you approach.

“Can I help you?” He asks with a bored expression on his face as he takes in the Saxs Fifth Avenue satin dress you were wearing. You definitely had money.

“Yeah, actually. I was just introducing myself. I'm your new neighbor-” He waves a hand, cutting you off before you can even say your name.

“Yeah yeah I know who you are, princess.” Of course he knew who you were already, the island wasn't exactly huge.

“Right. And you are?” You ask, not missing how he called you 'princess' in almost a mocking way. You weren't sure if it infuriated you , turned you on, or both.

He scoffs in disbelief, looking at you in absolute bewilderment. He was goddamn Rafe Cameron. How did you not know that? “Are you serious? What kind of question is that? Everyone knows me.”

You roll your eyes in response. “Well I don't, that's why I asked.”

“Rafe.” He simply answers. He didn't seem to talk a lot.

“Mm, okay.”

Rafe scoffs again, seemingly surprised by your lack of reaction to his name. “So you haven't heard of me?”

“No...I just got here today, remember?”

“Yeah, I got that the first time.”

You weren't sure what pissed you off more, his lack of enthusiasm or his smartass responses to everything.

“And where are you from, anyway?” He asks as his eyes look over you skeptically. “New York?”

“Virginia” you correct with a slight raise of your eyebrow “Why did you guess New York?”

He shrugs. It was either because of the way you dressed or the way you just carried yourself like you were from an expensive part of the city and aspired to be a model or something along those lines. “Just an assumption.”

You weren't exactly sure how to take his 'assumption' since all the people you met from New York were unhinged but either way, you were flattered.

“Need help unpacking or something?” He asks as he glances over at your house. From where he was standing, he could see right into your living room window that was currently filled with boxes.

The question surprised both of you since he knew he normally wouldn't help anyone without something in return, nor would he consider himself polite or 'neighborly', and it seemed you knew that too. But for some reason, he found himself wanting to help you out for whatever reason. Even though you guys barely even had a full conversation yet.

Once you nod and murmur a “Sure”, you lead him inside your house as he takes a good look around. He knew you had money by the way you dressed but he didn't know you were this well off. Your house was almost as nice as his...almost.

“You live alone or...?” he questions as he looks around at all the boxes you have scattered throughout the space.

“Just me” You step over a few boxes before adding “Oh and London”

He was about to ask who the hell 'London' was until he saw a golden retriever puppy with a pink ribbon tied onto each of their ears, padding into the living room where both of you stood.

Not too many people on the island had dogs unless they were for emotional support so he was a bit surprised to find out you had one of your own. He assumed yours wasn't for emotional support since you seemed fine to him, but then again, you can never tell. And he wasn't gonna ask either cause he wasn't that much of an asshole

He hums as he squats down to scratch behind London's ears “How old is she?” He wasn't exactly certain why he was suddenly so invested in your dog considering how much of an asshole he was acting just a few minutes ago, but he wasn't gonna dwell on that so much right now.

“Two months” You respond as you adjust her collar

His eyes move down to London's collar as you adjust it, scoffing quietly once he sees the Dolce & Gabbana logo on it. Of course you'd spend money on something like that. But then again, he was in no place to judge since he spent his money on alcohol and drugs.

When he finally stands up from interacting with London, he looks around the area again before asking “So where exactly do you want me to start?”

You shrug, looking around with pursed lips before answering “I mean, you could take the kitchen if you want.”

Rafe nods before picking up a few of the boxes and disappearing into the kitchen while you head off to start unpacking your room.

After about an hour and a half of both of you unpacking, you finally got your room mostly done and Rafe got all of the dishes put away in the cupboards.

“Need help with anything else?” He asks as he enters your living room where you're sorting out more boxes.

You shake your head “Nah”

He found himself a little disappointed by your answer for some reason. He'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna talk to you more. “You into partying?”

You shrug, not looking up from the boxes as you answer “Kinda. It just depends on the party.”

“Soo would you come to one of mine? They're pretty legendary.” It was true. Everyone always raved about a Rafe Cameron party since they were always the most chaotic and exciting parts of everyone's week.

“I don't think so.”

He rolls his eyes at your response. Normally people would be thrilled if he personally asked you to one of his parties, but you didn't seem at all fazed. You just shot him down without a second thought. “And why not?”

“I'm new to the island. What am I gonna do at a party? It seems pointless.”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly as he tries to come up with some sort of counter argument. “Well what better way to meet new people, right? Plus, you could always just hangout with me and my friends so you're not standing on a wall all night.”

He's not sure why he's so adamant on you going to this party or why he's offering to introduce you to his friends, he barely knows you. He waits for a few seconds before adding a “Please.”

Rafe wasn't one to beg. At all. He never begged for anything ever in his life, nor did he think he ever would. But here he is, begging a girl he just met to go to one of his parties.

“Fine.” You reluctantly agree. You weren't sure what made you say yes but you did. It was probably your own curiosity or the man in front of you. “I'll be there, when is it?”

He grins “Thursday at 9”

519 notes · View notes

siddyyyyyyyy · 2 months ago

Text

Unhinged

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI wc: 0.7K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive themes, no y/n used, actually kind of cringe a/n: my dear friend accidently gave me this idea while spamming me with delicious Red Hood edits (@dollyure), evidence will be shared at the end. enjoy!!

You never thought this could happen. You were so careful to leave your own thoughts to yourself and never let Jason see the things you tell your friend. But of course, nothing really goes your way for some reason.

It took one thing for you to end up in this situation. One thing. And that was leaving your phone unattented on the sofa for a minute. Unlocked.

It was a typical evening as any other, just getting to relax and wind down at the end of the week on your favourite spot at the couch with your roommate. Jason was always pretty quiet but respectful of the shared space, a good friend if you want to wind down together. You rarely get to see him in the evenings but on days like this, when he stays in, it feels like a small reward for you.

Of course he doesn‘t know about any of this. Doesn‘t know anything about what your silly texts between you and your friends. You keep it a secret pretty well, so he won‘t think you are a complete weirdo.

Well, until that evening. Setting your phone quickly aside to get to your boiling tea kettle, you forgot to lock it. Jason sits at the other end of the fluffy couch and watches how you scurry away to get the boiling water to a stop. With an amused grin he gets back to his book but keeps getting distracted by the bright phonescreen just a little away from him. Glancing over, he sees the outlines of text bubbles but he can‘t see what‘s written in there yet.

He isn‘t trying to pry or get into your privacy, but the way the other person spams you non-stop is making him more curious. Whatever this conversation is about, he wants to know if it‘s a conflict or some sort of gossip.

Jason checks if you are still in the kitchen and sees you preparing your tea and some sweets. He technically has enough time to snatch your phone while it‘s still open and gets to have a look over the texts. Who knows, maybe he will find out some interesting things on there. So, with these weak excuses, he grabs your phone and starts reading through them.

UNTIL YOUR TONGUE FADES COLOUR??? I mean every word I say. Wow. Just…

His brows furrow. What does this even mean? Are tongues even capable of fading colour? With a quick glance to the kitchen, he scrolls up, reading through the older messages.

From the couch, to the shower, to the bed, from the wall to the floor from missionary to cowgirl, straddled on top JUST LET ME HITTT

His jaw drops. Jason quickly composes himself and sits up, clearing his throat. He is sure he will need extra therapy after this. Ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling in his lower abdomen, he continues to read through them. Unsurprisingly, he finds a picture of himself in the chat. His profile picture, some random pictures he didn‘t even you had in the first place.

Until my throat memorises every vein.

That‘s the last message he sees from you before you appear in his sight again. Tea in hand, some cookies in the other. But most importantly, your flushed cheeks and regretful expression. His hand drops your phone and his cheeks also flush.

You can‘t look into his eyes anymore. This is the next worst thing that‘s ever happened to you so far. There is no way you can talk yourself out of this situation at all. He knows basically everything now. From the fact that you crush on him to the fact that you literally want to devour him whole.

Silently, he sets your phone back to its original spot and gets off the couch to stand up. Again, he clears his throat and speaks up first.

»I‘m gonna pretend I didn‘t see all this...«

And before you could apologise or say something to your defense, he is gone, retreating himself into his own room. Maybe even for the better, you can‘t imagine how awkward it would‘ve been if you were to sit next to him for the next few hours.

here is the so called evidence ( from my friends perspective)

and this was the final message that made me do this:

hope you enjoyed it somehow(★‿★)

part two

←MASTERLIST

#x reader #drabble #one shot #jason todd #jason todd drabble #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #batfamily #dc comics #batfam #dc red hood #dc characters #dcu #jason todd fanfic

521 notes · View notes

winterarmyy · 11 months ago

Text

Kiss It Better

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, cum eating, soft fluff, not much of angst but there's sprinkles of feels, body insecurities, bucky is in love and in heat tbh, i think he is particularly unhinged and filthy in this one but hey, you tell me. idk if i need to remind y'all about this but english is not my first language so my grammar are prolly fucked. Anyway--

Inspiration: Guess who felt a little soft and decided to wear a skirt to work? Yup, that would be me. No, because I commute to work (or basically anywhere) and there is quite a distance of walking in between the journey. Note that your girl here walk fast asf (basically running at this point). And because them inner thighs ain't got no gap between them, so i got myself some blisters/chafing :') then i fell into a self-deprecating despair for the whole day and it hurts whenever i walk, at that time i just want Bucky to kiss it better. Fast forward a few days later, here we are.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

She could feel it. His burning gaze following her every move. Observing, calculating. And she knew that she must not show any signs of discomfort; not on her face nor from the slightest jolts of her hips. She must not gave him a reason to question her.

She can't.

So she continue walking around their room, back and forth from the bathroom to the wardrobe, as if every step she took was followed by a burning sensation on her skin. She momentarily stood in front of the row of clothes hanging on the rack, her back facing the bed where Bucky had been sprawling on since she went in for a shower.

Honestly, she was standing there suspiciously 'too long', as if she was choosing an outfit for a date night, when clearly she was just getting ready for bed. When she realized that, she quickly pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and walk back into the bathroom.

Bucky's eagle eyes followed her figure, disappearing behind the locked door. His lips pursed as his cogs of thoughts spins around, trying to find an answer to a question that his lover keeps avoiding but it was useless.

He can't think straight. Especially when he was undeniably famished. He had not got a taste of her his sweet pussy for about 2 weeks now and he was quite literally about lose his fucking mind.

When his sweetgirl refuses to go further than kissing and making out, of course he obliged. She has every right to 'no' and he respects her wishes. Then it happened again the next day. And the next. Then again, and again.

Normally, people would've assumed that maybe she was on her period, and she is not comfortable having any sexual intimacy when menstruating. But, Bucky can tell that, that was not it. Because first of all, it was way too early for that time of the month, he knows her schedule.l very well. Second of all, he would've smell the blood if she was on her period.

Most of his senses are enhanced after all.

So, why was she avoiding it?

Bucky's is completely fine if sex was not something she wanted to do, but not even letting him eat her out? Now that's concerning. At least for him.

Because he needs her. He needs to suck on that needy little clit of hers, make it wet and swollen. He needs to lap on that sweet juices when she cums on his tongue.

Fuck. He's getting all work up now, thinking about it.

He swore that if this keeps going on, one of these days he might just spread his legs and fuck his fist on their bed while she's tied on a chair on the other side of the room. Maybe forcing her; seducing her, to watch his desperate cock become wet and messy would give her a clue of what he is feeling now.

Absolutely needy and deprived of that pretty little cunt of hers.

He was quite distracted with the filfthy thoughts until he heard the clicking sound of the bathroom door unlocked.

As she walked towards the bed, Bucky felt like his lungs stopped providing oxygen through his body, "Pretty." His eyes sparkled affection as the voice in his head echoed his thoughts. It wasn't that he have not seen her in those pyjamas before, he had. Many times in fact. The very same lavender set with tiny little cartoon cats printed all over the fabric.

The same ones that she wore when she came rushing to his side on one of those sleepless night. The time when she hold him close, distracting him away from the nightmare by asking the most random question of "You know, Bucky... These cats supposedly have the same expression, except for one. Do want to try and find it?"

He found it. It was near the hem of her right sleeve. And by that time, his nightmare was no where near his mind, the next thing he knew, he fell right back to sleep with her in his arms. It was his favourite pair of pyjamas that she ever worn. Nothing compares.

A loving smile unconsciously appeared on his face when his lady threw a sweet smile at him as she walked toward the bed, "My baby's so pretty." He thought.

The grin on his lips lasted, but not for long. Especially when he saw the tiny frown on her face, the faltered steps and when he heard that brief sound of a painful hiss slipped out of her lips.

So the moment she sat down on her side of the bed, Bucky already had his hands on her. Arms instantaneously wrapped around her waist, before effortlessly pulling her back onto his sturdy chest.

She giggled gleefully from his sudden rush of affection and that surely managed to trigger a chuckle out of Bucky. He hums and proceed to purr in crook of her neck, "What's wrong, baby?"

She could feel his throat rumbling at the back of her neck, "Did he notice it?". Her heart beat ever so slightly picked up its' pace but she planned to act like opposite of it, "Hmm? What do mean 'what's wrong'?" She asked.

Bucky can hear the change tempo coming from within her ribcage, he knew something was wrong, "I just want to know how are you feeling." He pressed a long and tender kiss on the shoulder.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin, "Now? Hmm. I feel very loved." She smiled dreamily as she closes her eyes.

Bucky left out a brief laugh at her response, this cheeky little bunny, "That's true, but how are you really feeling, hmm? Like physically?" He urges softly.

She thought about it for awhile; contemplating whether she should just tell him the truth or proceed to act like she okay. Well, she chose the latter, "Hmmm physically. In this position? Very comfy." She wiggled her body back into him, closing the non-existent gap between their bodies and gripping Bucky's arms around her a little tight.

Though her plushy ass was rubbing against his crotch just nicely, but the former winter soldier was not going to let that distract him from his mission. He needs to know what she's hiding behind that sweet smile, "Doll..." his voice was stern and she knew he was not having it.

His calling was only met with silence when she didn't reply verbally. Since she was looking down, Bucky cannot see the frown on face and the wobbling worries in her eyes. But he did picked up on the anxiousness of her heart; beating faster by the second.

"I..." her voice cracked at the first word she said, and Bucky knew he fucked up. He swiftly maneuvered her body to sit on his lap, facing him. His metal hand craddled her soft cheek, and his flesh ones gently caresses her back, "Hey hey hey, doll, what's wrong? Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you." His voice was laced with panic.

When she only had her gaze down, Bucky tenderly coaxed her, "Bunny, look at me." His hand guided her by the chin and when they made eye contact, he apologized again, "I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better. Forgive me." He leaned in a planted a kiss on her forehead. Then, her nose. And her cheeks, all over her face, muttering his words of apology.

She felt bad that Bucky apologized for something that was clearly not his fault. She's the problem in this situation. Her negativity, her insecurity was what drove her away from Bucky for the past 2 weeks. She knew that. And she knew it wasn't fair to him.

Knowing Bucky, he's probably blaming himself for her actions. And she didn't want that. She decided to tell him the truth, "I just..." Anxiety runs through her veins when she thought about it again. Would she be able to handle it if Bucky reacted negatively to her truth? Probably, not. "Just... promise that you won't be disgusted by it... Or get the ick from it."

Bucky frowned in confusion, "I don't even know what 'get the ick' means but I promise." He swore.

She let out a short laugh at his comment, causing him to smile along. Seeing how loving his gaze was, it gave her the strength to confess. She started with explaining how she had been busy at work this month. With launch of the new product, and her being one of th product manager, she was obligated to visit the branches around New York.

Bucky listened to words attentively, at first he thought maybe she was trying to say that she's been stressed lately. But then she started to explained about how she had been wearing skirts to work most of the days, because it was one of the their campaign's rules and Bucky does not think that 'stress' was what this would conclude to.

Nevertheless, he didn't lose his attention.

"But basically what I'm trying to say is..." She took a deep breath before continuing, "It's just... My inner thighs are chafed..." her voice was barely audible at the end of the sentence but Bucky caught it perfectly.

He thought about it for awhile before asking, "So, you mean to say that you got blisters on your inner thighs?" He wanted to confirm that his understanding was accurate.

She looked down in shame as she nodded to his question.

Bucky responded by pulling her closer, and kissed her forehead, "Aww doll. Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because it hurts? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've helped you. I mean I could help apply some meds or--"

Horrified at the idea of him seeing marks; the literal reminder of how fat she is caused her to blurt, "No!" She pushed Bucky away, eyes widen in horrid.

"No?" Bucky frowned quizzically at her intense reaction.

Realizing what she just had just done, she composed herself, and spoke, "It's... it's not a pretty sight. And I don't want to show it to you. Plus, if my thighs are a little thinner than they are now. Then, this wouldn't happen. If only these thighs are not like... fucking fat as they are we wouldn't have to go through this. And you wouldn't need to hear all this. You wouldn't---"

Bucky knew that once she was in the state of insecurity, she self-deprecate herself like she was less worthy than the goddesss that she is. So, instead of arguing with her, he simply intercepted her rambling, "Show me."

She stopped the seemingly endless word-vomit, and titled her head to the side, "Huh? No. Bucky I just said--"

Bucky grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her off his lap and onto the bed, caging her below him, "And I said... Show. Me." His tone was more like an order rather than a request.

She didn't dare to defy him, when his gaze was as rigid as they were now, so pulled her pants off; slowly, reluctantly. When the pants was at the last inches before it's completely off, Bucky took control and quite literally ripped it off from her.

The sudden action resulted to her body needing to hide itself from his darken eyes. Her thighs clammed together as a whine slipped from her lips. The friction of her wounds brushing against each other was burning her delicate skin.

Bucky quickly softens when he heard her pained voice, he pushed himself off from her and kneeled on the bed before her. "Doll, please..." His hands gently squeezes the side of her thighs as he pleads, "...Let me see."

Slowly spreading her thighs apart, Bucky's eyes are now focusing on the red marks on her skin. His thumbs absentmindedly traces the area around the broken skin. He was so concentrated that he didn't say a word. And that only triggered her insecurity that she started to rambled something about how she will start going in a diet and she'll add more intense leg workout in her routine.

But her voice was only a muffled strings of incoherent sounds in Bucky's ears when he finally processed everything that happened from 2 weeks ago until now.

The realization hit him like a high speed train with a broken break system. Did she really turned him down because of this? Did she really starve him out because of this? Bucky let out a growl of disapproval when he abruptly pulled her by her calves, forcing her hips to lift from the bed. She yelped in surprised but she saw the look on his face, "You..." he rasped.

Bucky placed her legs on his shoulders, letting it daggle on his back as he palmed sides of her thighs. He then, proceed to leave trails of kiss on her inner thigh, avoiding the irritating wounds on her skin, "You deprived me of my sweet little pussy because you think this..." he flattened his tongue and nibble on her softness of her inner thighs, "...would turn me off? That these thick, soft thighs that I love so much would bother me?"

He planted a delicate kiss on the marks before, "Well, guess what bunny?. You're absolute wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite." His lips travelled upwards until it found her core. Bucky's nose flared at the scent of her arousal, "And oh my sweet babydoll, I'm going to eat your pussy until understand that. Then, I'm gonna do it some more because I am fucking starving." He pressed a firm kiss on her clothed pussy, causing the cotton to soak the juices that leaks from her hole.

"Look at that. Does your needy pussy wants some pampering too, hmm?" She could see the lust dripping down his ocean blues; the same ones that were usually bright but now were now noticeably darker.

Bucky's finger traces the slit of her pussy, rubbing her over the fabric of her panties, making patch of wetness spread even more. "Yeah? Does she want me to kiss it better? Make her feel good?"

She moaned softly to his touch, "Please."

That was all it took for Bucky to rip her panties apart as if it was made out of paper. "Fuck, there she is. My sweet pussy." He brought his fingers over, widened the folds of her pussy. Even with minimal lighting, it was enough to show him the glistening pink flesh of leaking cunt, twitching and needing his tongue to explore her insides.

He was hungry of course, just simply looking at her pussy had made his mouth water and impossible for him to resist the urge of putting his mouth on the pretty little thing. "Hmm,," a sharp cry escaped from her lips as he blew on her little twitching nub. There was this glint in his eyes as he watched her try to buck up, cunt helplessly clenching around nothing.

Before she could beg for him, Bucky's tongue dipped in between folds. Pointed at first, from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit. The tip of his tongue swirl around the aching nub. A breath caught in her throat when Bucky repeat the same move but this time he flattened his tongue.

And then he does it again and again.

Bucky, is generally the larger man compared to anyone. He is tall and beefy. But he is especially big when he's in between her legs, gently devouring her wet pussy. Slow and long licks were his favorite, it allowed him to savor the taste of her. Always so sweet and he couldn't get enough of it.

With every flick Bucky's tongue assulting to her swollen bud, she couldn’t help but pull on sheets behind her, needy moans leaves her lips every time he explored her, teases her. Her body cannot stay still when the pleasure was taking her higher. But it was not a problem for Bucky to control. Whenever she tries to close her thighs together, he stopped her. He didn't want to irritate her wounds or cause any pain, so he kept pushing her thigh open as he nuzzle his face into her pussy.

"Ahhh fuck ,, that feels so good, Bucky!" She moaned his name as the overwhelming feeling of his wet and soft tongue gliding and rubbing on her core, guiding her to heaven.

And the salacious squelching noises to fill the room as Bucky laps and sucks on her clit. She was so wet that he could just shove his fingers up in her hole but he didn't. He won't. After so many days not tasting her, he want to only use his mouth.

Though the man barely spoke during these times, he’d much rather keep his mouth occupied with drinking up her juices or suckling on her cute little clit. But when he does. Fuck. Does he spill the most unholy things.

Bucky momentarily detached himself from her and rasped, "Gonna cum, babydoll? Come on, give it to me. Let me drink and lick your cum after." His metal fingers quickly finds her clit, swiftly started to deliciously rub it; just the way he knew she liked it. It felt so good that her tongued lolled out her mouth out of pure pleasure.

"Yeah, bunny. You're gonna let me clean you up with tongue so nice, so that you can make the same mess again and again. Cum in mouth, babydoll. Cum for me"

He delved right back where is mouth belongs, licking her clit into his mouth just to wrap his lips around the pretty pink bundle of nerves sucking it harshly. She whined needily her hips started to move on its own accord, searching for more friction of his tongue, “ahh ahh! hmmmm,, s-so fucking good! ahhh,, So close!” she was seeing stars in her hazy vision from how good and dirty she felt.

Bucky's eyes almost rolled back when let out a groan of satisaction against her spread out cunt; he can feel that she was going to cum and want her to do it with his mouth latched on her.

And cum she did, moments after she couldn’t help but squeal as her back arched from the bed, grinding herself on his tongue. Bucky growled at the streams of cream squirting out of her throbbing cunt right into his mouth, down to his throat.

So sweet and warm and addictive.

While her whole body was still shaking from the aftermath of the mindblowing orgasm, Bucky continued to lick and lap on her leaking pussy, slurping and suckling every bit of cream she had blessed him with.

Yet he was still hungry.

She mewled when Bucky started to suck on her clit again and when she looked over at him, he momentarily pulled away, "oh doll, did you forget? I'm not going to stop any time soon. So just lay there, look pretty for me and let me enjoy this sweet little pussy."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Have you ever gotten your inner thighs chafed? Anyway, thanks for spending your time to reading my work! Leave your thoughts behind, I'd love to read them ♡

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky smut #bucky fluff #avenger!bucky #bucky x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

unconventional-lawnchair · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do a Remus Lupin and Reader where she gets hurt during quidditch and he helps her around the castle? Thank you so much and I love your writing

A/n: Thank you so much for the request!! I literally dropped everything to do this, oml. I will always priorities Reqs but this was so cute!!

Also, just realized requests weren't set to allow annon automatically?? That has been fixed on my end

Break a Leg Not My Heart

Can't Help Falling in Love Elvis Presley

Remus Lupin x Reader

Wc- 4960

Cw; Use of Y/N, Cussing, negative thoughts, reader is unhinged, reader is unsirius, (Tell me if i missed anything!)

taglist- @otterlockholmes

Everyone knew Remus Lupin could be a bit of a push over.

Now, that's not to say he wasn't stern and serious when he needed to be, when he knew what was best, or just when Sirius said much of anything that started with ‘Hear me out.’

He was a Prefect, he was known for being a certain quality of student. Studious, always in the library studying with Lily Evans and {Y/N} {L/N}. Wise beyond his years, helping anyone who needed it. He volunteered to help tutor some of the first years with {Y/N} most Sunday evenings. Punctural, made a point to be on time to everything. Well, if he could help it, you did like to sleep in.

Not many people noticed the common theme in his actions. The traits that made up the Lycan were so tightly woven into his friendships, well, more particularly his friendship with you. He never gave up who he was, he never went that far, but it was clear that in the forethought of his, you were in every equation. Sirius certainly noticed.

Sirius would bemoan about it all the time, how you both insisted you were friends, absolutely clueless. He stood by it, however, friends don't look at eachother like you do. Remus insisted you were friends. Best friends.

The feeling was mutual, of course it was. Who doesn't want to spend every second of the day with their platonic soulmate? You would make a point to drag him around with you everywhere you went. You were never shy about it, your words slowly going from questioning to affirmatives.

“Remus, I am heading to lunch now, come with me?”

“Remus, we are going to the Black Lake, it's hot.”

“Remus, I have Quidditch practice.”

That was another trait of Remus Lupin. He could care less about Quidditch, but not much less. He would complain about going, as he followed you upstairs to your dorm to help bring your gear down. Would try to decipher the ridiculous rules while finding a seat in the stands with Lily and Mary, both coming to support their respective partners.

That's how you got here now, same routine. You were floating above the stands, even as a backup beater you still had to attend every practice. You would complain to James about it, seeing as you only agreed to it as a favor, but he would tease you about it every time. He was lucky some stuff he said was funny. He so rarely was.

You watched Sirius, who was currently the one you were assigned to tag out. It was a lot of time wasted, just floating near your friends and talking when you were sure James didn't notice. Eventually, you turned to Remus in the stands and smiled to see him furrowing his brow at the strange reps James was making the two beaters do.

“Rem!” You called over to him and lowered down to his eye level, still a good few yards away from them. He looked up at you and lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock!”

He looked at you confused before Lily nudged him. “The muggle joke?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her next before they shot up in realization. “Ah! Who's knocking?” He called over and you threw your head back in a laugh as Lily covered her mouth with a snicker. Mary holding Lily's shoulder as Remus looked at you three incredulously.

“That's the bloody line, right?”

“Who's there?” Lily laughed out, and you began to dry your tears.

“Tank!”

“Tank who?”

“You're welc-” Before you could even finish the line there was a loud thud and your head jerked forward. You were confused for a moment, smile slowly falling as you looked at the three.

Everything was slowing down, and no matter how hard you squinted, your vision continued to blur. Suddenly, and gradually, hot burning pain rushed threw the back of your head. It was so jarring you teared up, and you could faintly hear a bunch of voices, but you couldn't make out what they said. Slowly, your grip on your broom lessened.

Warm drops of what you could only assume was your own ichor dropped down your face. Then, your vision started to flash. You were far too loopy to panic, images of you on your broom slipped into a slideshow of you falling, that ended right before you hit the ground.

~~~

“She'll need to rest for the next two days for it to heal, her head is fine but her leg will need some getting used to. Two days in a cast should do her fine.”

Madam Pomfrey’s voice filled the room and you stirred with a whine. Eyes fluttering open and blinded by the lights above.

“Ugh.. my head…” You groaned, bringing your wrist to your throbbing temple. You fluttered open your eyes and looked around you, seeing James pacing the room and Sirius in front him, while Remus seemed to be shouting at him. Your ears began to ring as your blood rushed, so you couldn't hear him, but you could see the vain in his neck bulging out at his irritation. His tanned face a deep red, and Sirius looked apologetic, just taking the verbal battering.

There was a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see Lily and Mary sitting on the chairs beside you, Peter was behind them smiling softly. “Hey,” You couldn't hear him, but you could see his lips moving. You frowned as the words became more elaborate so you couldn't quite track them.

You looked around at your friends' concerned faces. Lily looked past you and you turned, seeing Remus was kneeling by your bed and saying something you couldn't hear. You huffed and rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. The ringing slowly stopped, but the sounds of the room never returned. You opened your eyes and Remus was looking at you, filled with concern. “Starlight?”

That was a mouth shape you recognized. You reached out to touch his hand and squeeze it, blinking a bit before you spoke. “I can't hear a damned thing. But did you get my joke?”

You watched as Remus seemed to go through the five stages of grief, before he settled on giving you the most unamused, annoyed, dead inside look you had ever witnessed. That made you smile. Well, smirk, mischievously. “That joke is literal gold, you just don't know talent.”

This time, Remus stood up and walked over to madam Pomfrey and after a small exchange she walked off. You looked around the room idly, trying to pretend you weren't anxious, patting your palms against your blanket covered legs. You could see your friends talking, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your nerves were on end. They looked worried, but you tried your best to keep calm and collected. You knew that if you began to worry, show even a bit of panic or upset, everyone else would too. What was the point anyway? Panicking wouldn't fix your hearing.

At least you don't think so-

Eventually, a hand rested on your shoulder. It was comforting and large, your right hand instinctively crossed your body to rest on it. You turned and smiled up at Remus. He held out a parchment to you and it had large chicken scratch on it. You always found how messy his handwriting was hilarious. He thinks faster than he writes.

‘You broke your leg. Pomfrey says it has to stay in a cast for a day or two, as for your hearing, she says it's a trauma response. Your body will return it when it's ready.’

You scoffed and looked at your hands with an offended bravado. “Who says they get to pick when my hearing goes? No appreciation! I keep you alive, you dumb thing!”

You didn't notice how Remus laughed at how ridiculous you were being. He always admired how easily you could brush stuff so big off. Like when you found out about his condition.

“Oh damn. That's.. so not the bee’s knees.’

Not the bee's knees. He had to have Lily explain that to him. Who in their right mind says that? To their friend in the hospital wing after confessing one of his most hated parts of himself?

He didn't know if he hated or loved you in that moment.

It grew on him, even if he denied it. You were just so damn strange.

“Darn, I guess no classes, hm?” You gave a faux sigh of disappointment. You turned to see Remus say something to Madam before turning back to you, smiling and waving his hand the quill began to write.

‘She says I can monitor you for classes, you should be fine.’

You gave him the dirtiest look you could muster.

“Hey, Rem, so you actually suck a lot.”

~~~

Remus had insisted on walking you back to the Gryffindor commons, carrying your equipment the whole way. You had to use a cane for the time being, so the second you tried to pick up the heavy bag you about gave Remus a heart attack.

Sirius, still pouting even after you accepted his millionth apology, coasted behind you both. You really wish you knew what Remus had said to him.

When you got to your dorm Remus set your things down and set your bed up with a prop for your leg. You continued to complain about the special treatment as he nagged you for your messy side of the dorm while he was at it. You had to admit, Remus was incredibly sweet. It made your heart clench a bit at how much he seemed to care about your current state.

You sat on your bed, taking off your robe and letting it fall behind you. Watching Remus rant on, for once, a little sad you couldn't hear his lecture. He seemed so determined to make sure you were comfortable.

Little did you know, to Remus, this was the perfect opportunity to return your kindness. To repay you for all the nights you spent with him in the infirmary, the forgiveness and patience you extended to him during the days up to the full moon, and the doting you gave him after. Not to mention, it felt a bit domestic. He would process his guilt over it later, indulging up such a thought with you unaware.

Eventually, your roommates got annoyed with his rambling. Marlene threw a pillow at him and she grabbed you from behind making you almost scream in surprise.

She said something to Remus that made him look away bashfully, and he looked at you, mouthing a goodnight that you returned.

~~~

Remus was at your door early in the morning, which gave you a right scare. He offered you his hand and you looked at it before tilting your head at him curiously he mouthed something and you'd don't quite understand, slowly setting your hand in his extended one.

He gave several different expressions in the matter of a second, before he threw his head back in a laugh. Usually, you'd be embarrassed, but you ended up laughing along with him. He looked happy and you knew Remus would never make fun of you out of malice.

He calmed his breathing and lowered your hand back to your cane, before reaching over this time to take your books and make, your mouth opening and a low, “Ooooohhh,” left you. He laughed at that too.

When you made it to breakfast you were talking animatedly and Remus was listening thoughtfully. He would occasionally make a nod or shake his head at some things you said, not able to face you with how your gaze was locked on him to gather all his micro expressions. He had set himself up for disaster.

Once you sat at the table and greeted everyone, you hardly paid attention to Remus. You focused mostly on your food.

You loved being around your friends, you did, but not being able to hear them was so isolating. You could see Remus talking to James, and by the look on his face, it was likely about something they had done they most certainly shouldn't have. You could see Lily, also giving James the most incredulous look ever.

Mary and Marlene were talking and glancing at the Hufflepuff table, but you couldn't gather a thing otherwise. Sirius was debating something with Peter who you could only describe as distressed. Some interesting hand movements later and a slap from Marlene, you could assume it was something vile. Soon, you gave in and just soaked up their presence. You didn't need to hear them to be a part of the group, just.. the conversation.

Suddenly, you gave a small yelp as your leg was lifted. Remus, without stoping his verbal battle with James, lifted your ankle and rested your hurt foot on his lap. You melted a bit, it was always the smaller things he did that let you know you had a best friend in him.

Just a best friend.

Even as his thumb trailed circles on your exposed knee, his forefingers resting on your inner thigh. Yup. Totally best friends.

~~~

Your leg ended up falling asleep like that. You playfully reprimanded him and he just gave you a laugh that you couldn't hear but your mind filled in the blanks. You noticed how proud and confident he seemed to be, taking care of you. It was sweet.

As you walked from class to class he carried your things and was there at your desk the second the bell rang. Then there were potions.

You shared potions with all of the boys and Lily, so you usually sat with Peter so Sirius could bum off of Remus’s hard work, leaving James to swoon while his girlfriend did all the work. You looked to the board and grimaced, wiggenweld. You knew it was a practice instead of theory day, but you were hoping for an easier potion.

To your surprise, Peter was sitting with a pouting Sirius, your usual spot cleared up. Before you could make a remark Remus put his things down and sat where Peter usually did. You found yourself smiling bright. “What the heck Remus?” You teased and sat down, once again, he lifted your leg onto his lap to keep it elevated.

Like a best friend would do.

“Can't leave me be for a half hour, Remmy?” You teased him as he took out his parchment and began to pull aside ingredients you couldn't reach with your stationary leg.

You were distracted storing out the ingredients by order and scribbling down notes on the more vague steps. You didn't get a chance to notice Remus smiling at you, his eyes sparking with new found fondness. “No I can not.” He muttered to no one in particular.

Not noticing himself as Sirius gestured aggressively to you two in aspiration. Lily laughed at his display and James covered his mouth to hide his smile. Seems Remus was finally clued in.

You began to work on the potion as Slughorn dismissed the class to their assignments. You prepped the ingredients and fell into an easy and fluid motion with Remus. You didn't have a clue why you hadn't worked together before, you did everything together anyway, and Sirius could suck it.

Your friends watched as you smiled down at the horklump, rubbing a spoon over it threw a strainer, giving a laugh as it splattered on your face. Remus watched you, smiling softly. He seemed distracted the whole practical exam, but there wasn't a moment he wasn't listening to you.

Your test ended with a passing grade, that's all you really needed. Still, Remus apologized for being distracted.

Remus Lupin was a perfectionist in everything he did. He felt that even in his best moments he was seconds away from failing. He improved himself until there was nothing to improve upon. He aced assignments, mentored underclassmen, pulled off some of the most outrageous pranks in Hogwarts history, he even turned down the head boy position for James, everything he had done in the last seven years felt unsatisfactory. Apathy wasn't a foreign concept to him.

Neither was pity. Those two things were handed out to him in the eyes of everyone he'd ever met. No matter how far Remus came, disappointment was still holding him by his in a silent reminder that nothing would outshine the worst of him. It swallowed him whole most days, his self doubt. So he stayed distracted, chasing the high of praise and approval.

He was much like Sirius in that regard, but Sirius acted out and Remus did his best to go unnoticed by anyone other than the people closest to him. Unless it was about his achievements.

He wanted to be remarkable and unnoticed, it was the contradiction that was Remus Lupin.

You made him feel those two things, like he was the most important thing in the world, like you couldn't do anything without him. Then, you made him feel like a normal student. Like he was just someone in the herd. He liked that about you.

But having you depend on him, just today, there was something new brimming in his chest. He grappled with the realization that you being dependent on him for a change was more fulfilling than his collective five years of overshadowed achievements.

You seemed him out; when you found him you needed him. Not that it couldn't be anyone else, you chose him. Well, he volunteered, but when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours he knew you had no qualms with it. He felt strong, he felt needed, and he felt like he wasn't the one hurting.

{Y/N} {L/N} never needed anyone. You made that clear since first year, you were remarkably strange and friendly, you never filtered yourself out for anyone. You were you, that's all you needed to be. You didn't need to be witnessed to live.

But you wanted Remus to witness you.

He was learning that he loved to. To witness you.

Yet here you were, none the wiser, while Remus realized how far he had fallen for his best friend. And in all honesty;

He wasn't scared.

~~~

Once dinner came around you were reminded just how out of the loop you were without your hearing. You were poking at your meal with your head down, pushing around a bit of your uneaten food. Today had been long, and every break mostly consisted of you trailing after your group and watching them laugh and indulge in each other's presence.

You knew it wasn't the end of the world, tomorrow morning you would be cut free of your cast and eventually your hearing would come back.

It drove you mad not knowing when though. You knew it wouldn't stay forever, you were self assured in that fact, but knowing the possibility of it being weeks, months, Merlin, even a year? An entire year of not hearing your friends' voices. Dragging Remus down with you.

You didn't notice your friend's concerned look. Eventually, as you stared down at the fork in your hand, a note slid into your peripheral, it was Lily's handwriting, the only person you know to be able to flow her letters so perfectly.

‘Ready?’

You looked up to see people had started packing up. You nodded and began to stand, Remus slipping his hand behind your lower back making you jolt a bit. He flinched away and you immediately cursed, ‘come baaaccck.’

~~~~

Your thoughts followed you to the common room. Before you could escape your friends, go allow yourself to mope, everyone insisted on drinking and talking.

You didn't want to. You really didn't. Remus was staying behind, however, and you know how much he hated when you'd leave him to be the only responsible drinker. Not that he had to worry too much, Mary always stayed sober to reel in Marlene.

You let yourself believe he just wanted to spend time with you.

So here you were, sitting on the couch, leaning you back against the arm rest and staring at the group as they talked. Your legs were resting over Remus’s, his lithe fingers rubbing up and down your exposed knee to the bottom of your skirt. Now, this was something Remus would never do, but you didn't even have time to enjoy the satisfying moment of slight intimacy, still too in the dumps.

Your frown deepened as you watched people get up to dance around you. Lily had put a song on the record, you only knew it to be ‘Love Grow(where my Rosemary goes)’ by Edison Lighthouse, because of the album cover she brandished to James with a little wiggle of her eyebrows. One of your favorites.

At this point, your arms were crossed in a pout as you watched everyone dance but you and Remus. You blinked away those thoughts and turned to Remus.

“You can go dance, I won't be offended.” You muttered out with a pout. He turned to look at you from the dancing figures. He seemed to come to some conclusion, and tapped your calf. You moved your legs and went back to watching the group before his hand was in your face. You looked up at him confused to see him offering it to you. You carefully took his hand and he lifted you up, leading you on the dance floor. You were wobbly, but he nudged your hurt foot until you arched it up, he took on most of your weight and you leaned into his chest to balance.

He began to sway, you laughed, and he beamed at how happy you seemed. It was ridiculous, you both looked ridiculous, Sirius gave a wolf whistle you couldn't hear and he couldn't give less of a fuck.

As you got more comfortable he pulled back and began to spin and slide with you. You were a giggling mess and he wrapped his arms around your waist and faced you away from him, making you tilt your head all the way back to see him. He could have died right there.

As the song faded out, you guys stopped your completely tone deaf moves, and he looked back with a dazzling smile at Lily who put on another song. He was panting, he could see all his friends watching with what seemed to be far too interested looks.

When his eyes went back to you, you were still staring up at him with a bright rush of affection. Somehow, always, Remus knew just what to do. Just what to say.

The song kicked up and Remus thinned his lips a bit.

‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley.

He knew he shouldn't. He should fool himself with something so intimate. But you were looking back at him with so much excitement, so much love, who the hell was he to say no?

… Wise men say

Only fools rush in

He nodded to you and you spun to face him again, leg swaying a bit from where you kept it up. You moved to put some space between you, but instead, he wrapped one hand around your lower back and took your other hand. His movements were identical to Marlene with Mary and James with Lily, Sirius even managed to get a girl from one of the many onlookers to dance with him. His being much more professional.

But I can't help falling in love with you

You were confused at first, but you wouldn't say you hated it. It was intimate, as he pulled your chest to his and gave you his smile now. You pressed your tongue to your cheek and smirked at him. He gave you a playful wink as you rolled your eyes.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

He gave you a slow and careful swirl, and when you returned to him, he pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin to your head.

… Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

He gave you a playful dip and you finally laughed, relaxing fully into the oddly familiar feeling. He's held you before, but never so carefully. Like he could loser you at any point if one thumb was misplaced.

… Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

He suddenly flattened out his hand against yours. You turned to look from where your face was peacefully nuzzled into his chest. You watched as he spread his fingers, and in turn, yours. Before he interlocked them. You bit your bottom lip and looked up at him. He was mouthing some of the lyrics, and you just managed to watch the last verse.

“For I can't help falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened. Was he.. was he serious? His eyes were staring into yours like he was putting himself on the line with those words. You took a deep breath and held it, as he leaned down towards you as you both slowed to a stop. You stared at his lips, waiting so patiently for his next words.

“I love you, {Y/N}.”

The words looked so natural on his lips. You didn't know what to say. You knew what he said. You didn't have a doubt in your mind about it. You suddenly moved in and kissed him, eyes closed before you pulled away. It was quick, it was a bit hard. His lips were chapped and his eyes were still on yours when you opened them.

He looked stunned, and you couldn't hear the loud, “Finally!” From Sirius.

Nor could you hear Lily’s delighted gasp when he moved in and kissed you again. His hands left your side and hand, grabbing your cheeks. His fingers loosen when you meet him halfway, moving down to your neck and resting his thumbs on your cheeks.

You broke the kiss again, forgetting how to breathe. His lips followed yours before his eyes fluttered but stayed closed. You looked at him in pure shock. What do you do now? What do you say? Did it matter?

Suddenly his face scrunched up and you narrowed your eyes a bit.

“Ow ow ow ow..” Remus muttered and you flinched back when you read his lips. You had rested your casted foot against his toes. Wincing and apologizing like crazy, you moved too quickly and the weight shift caused you to fall back. He quickly caught you in a very deep dip. One hand around your neck and the other around your lower back. Your arms wrapped around his neck and everything was slow.

What a lovely cliche.

It got even better, as he lifted you closer and kissed you again. His hand from your neck sliding down to help keep your casted leg bent to his hip.

It was perfect.

~~~ Bonus Scene ~~~

You woke up to the sound of Marlene and Lily talking idly in your dorm room. A few days after the dancing and you and Remus had slipped from friends to more in such a simple and seamless mesh.

A mesh of messy kisses and rushed ‘I love you’s in the hall. Late night rendezvous in the common room grossing out your friends with all the stolen kisses and messy cuddles where limbs weren't easily identifiable in the dark.

You smiled softly, unable to tame how your heart clenched and a goofy smile took your lips. Then it hit you. You could hear.

You shot your head up and began tos scramble for Remus’s jumper he left over last night. Marlene and Lily snapping over to look at you but not getting a word in before you were dashing out of the room in just your pajama pants and his sweater.

You don't know how quickly you were running until you made it to his dorm. Your healed leg throbbing from lack of use but you couldn't care less. You slammed your way into the prefect dorms, Remus long since given you the password.

You ignored fussy prefects and walked right up to Remus’s dorm. You knocked in a rush, and the door opened to show James. You'd didn't even care to ask him why he wasn't in the Head Boy dorms, just shoving past him to hurry into the room.

Sirius looked up from a lounge chair in the corner and smirked when he saw you, opening his mouth to make a smart remark before you interrupted him.

“Remus?”

“Starlight?” Remus called out from the closet, stepping out in pajama pants as well, no short, and a towel in his messy hair. He couldn't help but smile at your rosey cheeked winded gasps, despite his confusion. “What are you-”

“Say it.” You demanded quickly and closed the gap between them. He looked at you confused before it suddenly hit him that you had responded and reacted to his words. You could hear him.

He let the towel fall from his hair to his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close. “Say what?”

“You love me.” You commanded with puffy flustered cheeks. Suddenly so much less confident now that you faced him. He laughed and moved his hands to your cheeks.

“You came running all the way here for that?”

“Remus, I've been waiting years.”

“I love you, {Y/N}.” He whispered and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled and gave a sigh of bliss into it. This time, you were able to hear Sirius wolf whistle behind you.

429 notes · View notes

bangtanintotheroom · 6 months ago

Text

On the Nose (M)

I'ma put this pussy on your face

Open up boy, come and get a taste

🔊 just wanna - iggy azalea (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: Dokyeom x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Humor, Smut, Friends to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 2.5k

• Summary: Seokmin thinks his nose might be too big. You’re quick to give him reasons as to why he’s wrong.

• Warnings/themes: insecurity, reassurance, OC with the compliments 🥹, Seokmin getting carried away, face-sitting, oral (f. receiving), groping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

• Notes: Look, all I'm going to say is that my thing for noses flares up whenever I look at DK and that was the inspo for this drabble. So sit and enjoy AJ's unhinged mind 🤪✨ thanks again to @wooahaeproductions for being an awesome beta! 💖

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you’re interested in all future fics I post!

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is my nose too big?”

Your friend’s out of nowhere question made you pause your mobile game and look up in bewilderment. You found him standing in front of his dresser, head leaned in close to the mirror.

“What? No, it’s not.”

Seokmin hummed, the tone unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me, y’know.”

Frowning deeply, you set your phone down and rose from the bed to walk over and stand next to him.

“Seokmin, why would I lie? Your nose is fine. Did someone say something about it?”

“No…”

His trailing off did not deter you from digging deeper.

“Seokmin.”

Your biting tone and hard stare made him flinch, not wanting to feel your wrath.

“No one said anything, per se, but they were looking. Really hard.”

“Who?”

Seokmin’s reflection shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Multiple people. We’d be having a conversation and I’d just notice their eyes going to my nose at some point.”

His explanation gave you some clarity now, but were they really thinking negative thoughts about it? You couldn’t understand why the poor guy was so concerned about his nose all of a sudden. To you, it was one of his best features.

Yes, he had a blinding smile. Yes, you would kill to have his cheekbones. Yes, he was just a handsome guy in general.

But having a dignified and regal nose increased his looks by at least fifty percent (if you were being modest).

It just suited him so well that you couldn’t picture him with anything more basic or minuscule. Anything less pointy and upright would not fit Lee Seokmin.

“Seokmin, maybe they were looking because they like it.”

Your friend turned away from the mirror to study you with interest.

“You think so?”

You gazed up at him confidently.

“I know so.”

“But don’t people usually prefer smaller noses?”

A scoff left before you explained, “Fuck what beauty standards say, I think big noses are one of the best things anyone could have. Think about it. When people get plastic surgery, they can only go smaller, not bigger, right?”

”Right…”

“So it’s something that’s natural and only special people are blessed with! Like yourself!”

Your reassurance was paired with a tap to said special feature, pulling a bright grin from Seokmin.

“Y/N, you know just how to cheer me up, don’t you?”

“Of course, dummy. That’s what friends are for!”

The both of you giggled, the atmosphere lighter than before due to your affirmations. It felt good to ease his worries, but as you laughed, one last fact came to your brain.

It wasn’t as innocent as the previous ones, but it was a truth for you. One you had personal experience with on more than one occasion.

“Seokmin.”

“Hm?”

“You know what else big noses are really good for?”

Seokmin’s dark brown eyes watched you with curiosity and a hint of eagerness.

“What?”

You looked up at him, face blank like a sheet of paper.

“Sitting on.”

He became a cartoon character immediately, eyes bugging and mouth flying open to let out a yelp while his hands covered his ears.

“Y/N! What?!”

“Hey—” You reached up to rip his palms down so he could hear properly. “—it’s true!”

“Is it, you…you…pervert? Or are you just making things up to make me feel better?!”

A scowl came across your face as you lightly punched his arm.

“I’m serious, idiot! Have you never heard of a girl using someone’s nose to get off?”

“No! Well, I mean, maybe, but I wasn’t paying attention if anyone did say that.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and readied yourself to continue convincing him.

“It’s true, okay?”

Seokmin blinked before squinting his eyes.

“And who’s your source?”

You met him with nothing but passiveness.

“Me, myself and I.”

All he could do was gape at you like a fish, stunned that you were revealing such an intimate secret about yourself.

Now, you were used to Seokmin’s dramatic reactions to mundane or extreme situations, but he usually did it out of fun. Yet something about the way his eyes darted all over your face told you that it was genuine astonishment he gave.

Which led to you challenging, “What, you’ve never had anyone sit on your face before?”

“No!”

Huh. Shocker.

“Really?”

His frantic nod only made your brows raise in wonder. It was a shame that this man had never been privy to the act. God strategically placed his nose at such an angle to reach crevices deep within women and it was being wasted for everything else but that.

An idea began brewing in you, wanting to convince him that he was missing out on something fun.

Licking your lips, you cocked your head to the side and let your suggestion out.

“Wanna try?”

Seokmin became too stunned to speak. All he could do was sputter at your offer.

“I— Y/N, you—!”

“Seokmin, I’m serious. It’s an experience.”

The way you grinned slyly was akin to suggesting your friend cut class with you, not let you use his face as a grinding pad.

“How am I going to convince you if you won’t let me sit on your face?”

Seokmin’s ajar mouth finally shut, jaw clenched as he looked you over from head to toe, gauging the seriousness of your offer. He saw little deceit and seemed to relax a bit.

“Y/N…would you really do that?”

You nodded.

“If it’ll make you feel better about your nose, absolutely. You’re welcome to say no if you don’t want to, though.”

The other pulled in his lower lip as he mulled over his answer. You were middle of the road right now. If he said no, you would take no offense and carry on like nothing happened. But if he said yes…

“Then…let’s try it.”

Oh. Neat!

Smiling in triumph, you held your arm out towards the bed.

“Go get comfortable.”

Seokmin’s lips quirked lightly at your instructions, walking over to lie on his back in the middle of the mattress. His head lifted to peer at you with query.

“Is this a good position?”

“Perfect. You’re a beginner, so it’s best if you stay completely flat.”

Humming at your reasoning, his eyes widened when your hands reached for your bottoms, undoing them as if you were undressing at the end of a long day. You saw him visibly swallow when your pants pooled around your ankles. But then he clutched the sheets when your fingers crept under the elastic of your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Seokmin tried his best to look less petrified as you looked up after stepping out of your clothes and walked over. Climbing onto the bed, you kneeled next to his torso, raising a brow down at him.

“Ready for me?”

An audible gulp came from your friend before he nodded quickly. With a sigh, you eased, “I’m not gonna suffocate you. Relax.”

The reminder seemed to lessen his nerves as he laid back again, giving you a jerk of his chin. The invitation prompted you to straddle his chest and keep an eye on his facial expression, only to catch him staring between your legs.

“What?”

Seokmin’s cheeks reddened before he shook his head quickly. “N-Nothing. So how does this go?”

“Literally just eat me out like you would with any other girl. But throw your nose into the mix.”

“Like, nudge you with it?”

“Mhm. Just follow your instincts, there’s not much wrong you can do with it.”

The man underneath you nodded before taking in a deep breath. As soon as he motioned you to scoot up with his eyes, you moved forward to hover over his lips. Trusting your core to keep you balanced, you let out your own held breath.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Seokmin gave a thumbs up, waiting until you lowered down so your folds were a whisper away from his mouth. He leaned up to brush his lips against them, the light touch making your spine straighten. It felt as if he was testing the waters, wanting to see just how sensitive you were. But he didn’t wait long to up the pressure, pulling the quietest of gasps out.

“Better?”

You would’ve giggled at the way his voice came out somewhat muffled if it wasn’t for the warmth starting to build in your gut.

“Yeah. Just do what you usually do, ‘Min.”

“Let me know if I have to switch it up.”

He returned to work, bringing his tongue into the mix to trace up and down. A louder noise came from your mouth at the thorough sensation, eyes fluttering. The question of whether Lee Seokmin was good at oral never crossed your mind, but now the answer was going to remain cemented in there.

Especially when the appendage sunk in between to run up and down your entrance.

“Oh shit—”

You were too distracted to see Seokmin’s eyes crinkle at your low moan, continuing the action to be rewarded with more. But after a while of this, you remembered the main reason why this was even happening in the first place. Swallowing a sound, you croaked out, “Seokmin.”

“Mm?”

“Your nose—”

The reminder had him make what you imagined was a noise of realization. And just like you wanted, the end of something soft yet sharp nudged your swollen clit.

“Ah— There you go.”

You gave encouragement, hoping it would push your friend to use his God-given gift to the fullest. It took some time, but Seokmin nuzzled the bud harder while simultaneously working his tongue below. Your warmth expanded into a tingling heat that traveled up and down your spine and into your fingers and toes, soft pants beginning to fall from your agape mouth.

You weren’t sure how long he had been at it, but you began to feel the telltale signs of a climax approaching. Not wanting to throw him off his game, you bit your tongue and allowed yourself to continue enjoying this experience of Seokmin learning the benefits of having a perfectly sculpted nose.

As the throes of ecstasy began to wash over your body, you hoped that he would carry this lesson through the rest of his life to treat any lucky girl.

Panting softly as you came down, the attention between your legs paused for a bit. But just as you were about to climb off and congratulate your friend for a job well done, the motions started up again, forcing you to gasp in sensitivity.

“’Min, what are you—”

A harsh bump to your still throbbing clit interrupted your query and a poke to your twitching cunt silenced you completely. All you could do was sit above Seokmin in utter shock as he continued to please you with his mouth.

Your complete surprise melted the further he went, brain shutting down to simply enjoy what he was giving you. At one point, you felt vibrations and started to hear something akin to mumbling from between your legs.

“Huh?”

The vibrations went on, but you still couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Seokmin, I can’t hear you, stop for a second.”

What might have been a groan sounded against your slick folds before Seokmin pulled back to husk out, “Sit on my tongue.”

Your mouth dropped, stunned at the request and the way he stuck out said muscle between his slick-coated lips.

But your hips went on autopilot and moved forward to grant him his wish. As soon as you sat down, the desire to use his tongue as a grinding pad came over. It seemed to be a wise choice as you could feel the strongest vibration so far against your pussy.

Seokmin surprised you again when one of his hands moved from the bed to rest on your waist before sliding over and up your torso. It seemed to be on autopilot as it aimed to touch your covered breast, only stopping short just as his fingertips were about to brush the bottom curve. Clicking your tongue at his unwanted hesitation, you covered his palm with your own and brought it to its intended destination.

“Don’t hold back.”

As soon as you let go, Seokmin took your command and ran to the bank with it. Long fingers groped and massaged at the mound, making your back arch in enjoyment. Enjoyment that pushed you higher and higher to another precipice, faster than before. While you trembled above your friend, you couldn’t believe that he kept this up. You figured that once would be enough to prove your point, but he just would not stop.

He continued even after you came for the second time, giving everything he had. You could feel yourself hurtling towards a third orgasm as Seokmin wouldn’t let you be. But when the tip of his nose felt too pointy and the flat of his tongue too rough for your sensitive folds, you decided to put an end to the experience.

“S-Stop—“

Pointless. He just kept going.

Stifling a whimper of discomfort, you were forced to reach down and pull at his dark brown locks.

“Christ, Seokmin, stop!”

Finally, your prayers were heard. Seokmin winced at your tug and removed his mouth from you to gape incredulously.

“Yah, why’d you stop me?”

You ignored the unusually titillating rasp of his voice to scowl down.

“I think you proved my point…too many times!”

Your emphasis was supported with a flick to his wet nose.

“You trying to kill me?!”

“No! I just got caught up in the moment! I’m sorry.”

The genuine remorse in his explanation made you relax a bit, soothing his scalp with a gentle ruffle of his hair.

“It’s alright, ‘Min. You did good…too good.”

As expected, Seokmin’s smile outshone the sun itself, thanks to your praise.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Returning the grin, you realized that you should give your friend some breathing room and climbed off to lay next to him, a tingle still present in your toes.

“So what have we learned today?”

Seokmin puckered his lips as he looked up in thought.

“I learned that my nose is big, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Um…that I can use it when I’m eating someone out.”

Your lips tilted.

“Go on.”

A melodic hum came as he continued to rack his brain.

“Mm…oh! How could I forget the most important one?”

You watched as his head turned to fixate you with a sweet grin.

“If I’m ever feeling insecure about anything, I can come to you for help.”

His answer made you smile wide, heart warming at how at ease he seemed to be now. Granted, you never expected to sit on his face, but if it made him feel better, you’d do it a hundred times over.

“Anything for you, ‘Min.”

851 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Protective

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

Summary:

During his first full moon, Isaac needs to think of something to ground him - to keep his newfound powers from getting out of control. Derek suggests that he use anger, and he knows that Scott grounds himself with his love for Allison.

Isaac finds something in between - thinking of the anger he feels when you get hurt.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 2,300

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: canon level violence - mentions of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd having to be chained up on the full moon (to avoid hurting themselves and others), mentions of Isaac's abusive father (somewhat graphic descriptions of the abuse that Isaac experienced); Isaac has a self deprecating inner monologue because of the psychological effects of his father's abuse; mentions of Isaac being injured by his father's abuse; the reader also has an abusive father and it's a point on which they related and bonded (and how they became such close friends); at one point the reader describes her abuse as being 'not as bad' as Isaac's abuse (but that is psychological trauma speaking); mentions of the reader experiencing physical and emotional abuse; reader is described as 'pretty girl' at one point in the fic (again, this is very self indulgent); Isaac has a crush on the reader but has never voiced it (it's implied that the reader feels the same way); Isaac and the reader exchange friendly physical affection; emotional angst - Isaac feels powerless for not being able to stop the reader's abuse; I think that's it for this short fic? The themes are on the darker side, but it comes from a personal place for me.

A/N: If you've been following me for any amount of time, then you know I have a thing for sad, abused characters. If you have read my Ellie fic 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind of Weapon' - then you would know why. Isaac is the kind of character I immediately connect to for deeply personal reasons, so watching the entirety of Teen Wolf through for the first time, I couldn't resist writing a fic about him. There will likely be more to come about him, but for now - here is this deeply self indulgent moment inspired by Season 2, Episode 9. If you don't relate to this, I hope you can enjoy it as a distant whumpy fiction, and if you can relate to it - I hope that Isaac can bring you some comfort like he has for me. Much love, happy reading.

...

While the chains rattled against the abandoned subway car and Isaac tried to ignore Erica’s groans of pain from having several large bolts bored into her head, he couldn’t help the question that was rattling around inside of him.

“How do you do it?” Isaac asked Derek as he arranged the chains around his limbs. He was trying to push down the sickly familiarity of it - being restrained. He was trying to tell himself that it actually was for his own good this time, not just a sick punishment given to him by a powerless, unhinged old man. “How do you keep it under control?”

“You have to find an anchor.” Derek told him, firm, determined.

It was nice to focus on the conversation instead of the anxiety rising in his chest, so Isaac pressed on.

“An anchor?” He questioned, unsure what Derek meant. “Like what?”

“Yeah. Something else for you to focus on. For me it's anger.” Derek paused. “But it's not like that for everyone.”

It was immediately obvious to Isaac who Derek was speaking of.

“Scott.”

He had Allison. It was some dreamy romantic bullshit - using his love for his girlfriend to keep from wolfing out. But apparently, it worked well for him.

Derek gave a subtle nod.

Isaac didn’t have anything like that. He didn’t have some cheesy romance to fall back onto. He didn’t have someone declaring a love for him so openly - because he wasn’t worth loving. Even with his father gone, the world had made it very clear that he was just a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe - a problem being passed around that nobody could seem to solve.

“It just has to be something strong enough to keep your mind present. A strong feeling you can hold onto. Anger, love, resentment, regret, rage. Just find something that works for you.”

Isaac nodded, and Derek went to check that Erica and Boyd were secure as the moonlight came to its full brightness.

…

It got Isaac thinking about you.

You were probably the one person in his life who didn’t think he was a problem. The one person in his life who loved him, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

He had felt all of those things - anger, love, resentment, regret, rage - the last time he had been with you. When he had been sitting in your bathroom, perched on the closed toilet seat lid after an argument with his father. Naturally, the argument had ended with Isaac having a black eye, and a large cut on his cheek from his father's ring colliding with his face.

You were the only person he ever went to. No matter how bad things got, you were the only person he ever told. You were the only person who ever understood. Isaac had found out the hard way that your own father was much the same as his. On the first day of freshman year, he had seen you wearing a sweater when it had been a balmy, sunny day, and he had volunteered to be lab partners with you - partially to get closer to a pretty girl and partially because a gnawing feeling was going off in his stomach.

Even back then - even when he was scrawny and powerless, his instinct to protect you had still been so strong. Even if all he could offer you was a shoulder to cry on and the chocolate bar out of his lunch, he looked at you and he felt the world turning on the simple hope that he could make your day just a bit better. Because he knew, even without words, by the tiredness in your eyes - that you suffered like he did. And he wanted so badly to make it better.

When the two of you were doing an introductory experiment of baking soda and vinegar to cause the classic foaming volcanic reaction, the rubber gloves you had been wearing caused your sleeve to ride up, revealing a menacing purple bruise on your wrist. Isaac spotted it instantly, and when you locked eyes with him, he held nothing but deep understanding there - not shock or even pity. Nothing but deep understanding and warmth.

He held your hand under the table for the rest of class, and you had never wanted to pull away. You felt a unique kind of mourning when the bell rang and you had to part ways.

At lunch that day, you found him under the bleachers by the lacrosse field. Without so much as a word, only a cursory glance around to make sure that nobody else was watching, he pulled up his shirt, revealing an array of horrifying bruises to you - some purplish, some green, some faded yellow - all collected from different points throughout the summer. The time when he had been trapped at home with his father, having nowhere else to go as the man got more aggravated with his presence.

You ran a gentle touch along the wounds - the most gentle touch he had been greeted with since his mother's death, something that easily brought him to tears. And from that moment on, the two of you had a silent understanding. You spent the rest of the lunch hour exchanging ‘war stories’ and laughing with a tainted dark humor about your separate twisted patriarchs. And the next time he was bloodied and bruised, he texted you to meet him under the bleachers in that same spot, and you didn’t hesitate to rush out of bed at three in the morning to get to him.

It became a sacred place for the two of you to escape to when you needed it.

The two of you became a sacred comfort to each other - knowing that there was little escape in telling the police or a guidance counselor, because you had nowhere else to go.

Today, when Isaac called you, you found your house luckily empty. Your mother and your father were away visiting relatives in another state, so when Isaac told you that he needed you, you texted him the all clear to come over to your house for a reprieve. He was lucky to be able to spend the night somewhere else - to get to sleep in your bed, cuddled up close to you for comfort, without fear.

He tried not to wince with pain as you dabbed disinfectant on the large cut across his cheek. He hated seeing you flinch with empathy every time his expression wavered even slightly. He could handle the pain. He could be better than this.

“Isaac.” You sighed his name pitifully, clearly on the edge of tears.

Both of you knew the thoughts that were pulsing thickly through your head, even without you having to speak them.

Isaac didn’t deserve this. You wanted to hurt his father in return. You wished you could take away his pain, you wanted to help him escape from it.

It was a ‘wishful thinking’ conversation that the two of you had dozens of times before. It always ended with you both more upset than when it started, so you swallowed up those thoughts now. But Isaac knew them too well, written across your face and swollen on your lips like the tears brimming your pretty eyes.

You put down the cotton ball you had been using and turned your back to him, poorly hiding your crying as you stiffly wiped off your cheeks.

“What do you want me to say?” He replied, hating that this whole thing had to upset you. “You know how it is.”

To an extent, you didn't. Your father was a screamer. He yelled loud enough to shake the walls, but he rarely escalated to physical violence. You found that you were lucky if you escaped a fight with death threats and tears rather than having hands laid on you. Isaac came to school with fresh bruises every other week - you had to feel that he was worse off than you were.

“We should just go.” You said, feeling bold in your suggestion. It felt obvious - escaping. “We should just run away. Get the hell away from all this.”

You whipped back around, still feeling a terrible twinge of pain and sadness inside you at the bruising across his face, the fact that his cheek was definitely swelling up now.

Isaac frowned. It was a nice dream, and he hated to be the one to dash right through it.

“You know we can't do that.” Isaac sighed. Ever the realist. Of course. “Where the hell would we even go? With what money? No offense, but the couple hundred dollars you have saved up from babysitting isn't gonna get us anywhere.”

“It's over fifteen-hundred.” You told him honestly.

It was a nest egg that you had been sitting on since middle school, hoping to escape your father and never look back. When you met Isaac, you had another thing anchoring you to Beacon Hills, keeping you from buying the bus ticket you had always wanted.

“But you're right. That'll get us - what? A couple of nights at a motel?” You let out a harsh, dry laugh. Trying to relieve some of the tension. “Well… we could go on a vacation? Escape for a few days?” You suggested, sounding hopeful.

The idea of spending time alone with Isaac - a getaway where the two of you could pretend none of it was happening, even for a few days - it sounded like paradise.

Isaac’s mind went to a dream-like vision - having you alone in a hotel room. A bed just for the two of you. Even just getting the chance to sleep peacefully with you, cuddle you, it sounded like a dream.

He had to pull himself back before his mind went to places a friend shouldn’t stray.

“A last hurrah before my dad kills me for running away on him.” Isaac sighed.

The consequences of it would be inevitable. The two of you would have to come back home eventually. He knew that your father would likely feel much the same. He would never forgive himself if you ended up bruised and battered because of something he had encouraged you to do.

You let out a sob then - the thought of Isaac dying by his father's hands had been all too real to you at times. A horror you imagined in your mind over and over again, especially after times he had come to you with half his torso nearly bruised black and he had been unable to move properly for days. His father was a monster, and you didn’t doubt that he would be capable of murder.

Isaac rushed to stand up, and pulled you into a hug. His warmth, his arms surrounding you tightly - it was the only place you ever felt safe. You eagerly gripped him back, missing the wince he let out when you squeezed a bit too hard over one of his bruised ribs. But no - he would never fault you for holding onto him too tightly.

Holding you like this - he felt like he had the world in his arms. Something tight in his chest, telling him that if anything ever happened to you, he would become the same kind of monster that his father was. But in the same way any threat to you made him boil over with rage - you made him gentle. You made him soft and loving. You were the only person in the world who made him feel okay to weep.

He kissed the top of your head, not a stranger to comforting you with affection even though the two of you remained strictly as ‘friends’. As much as he yearned for more - you were a life vest while he was drowning and he wouldn't risk fucking that up just to kiss you and call you his girlfriend. He wouldn't throw any messy feelings into the mix.

“It'll be okay.” He told you.

Coming from his lips, you had to believe it.

“Thank you, Isaac.” You sniffled. And then, something hit you. “You came over here for my help, and now you’re comforting me.” You let out another dry chuckle, clearly resisting the urge to scold yourself.

“This is helping.” He told you, hugging you tighter. “This always helps.” He said the last part quieter, a dropped whisper that you could barely hear.

It was a truth he was afraid to confront just yet.

…

But in the present, it was a truth that was helping him more than anything.

Isaac hadn't spoken to you since he had gotten the Bite. He had been terrified of hurting you somehow. The last thing he ever wanted was to become the thing that you feared. It would have been his worst nightmare to be the one to make you cower in a corner and cry rather than to be the one giving you comfort from it.

As the moon came to a full wane overhead, and the mighty rage and power pulsed through his veins, Isaac thought of you. He thought of using that power to tear apart anybody who had ever hurt you - to finally free you from those tears. He thought of giving you the same relief he had felt when his father died. He thought of his love for you, even if it was a silent love that he had never gotten the chance to voice.

“I see you found your anchor.” Derek remarked to Isaac later, after he had gotten Erica and Boyd back in their chains, tightening Isaac’s binds once again, if only as a precaution.

“I did.”

Derek looked at him with intrigue, as if waiting for him to explain.

“Well, you said that you use anger. And Scott uses love.” Isaac told him. “I guess that mine is… some combination of both.”

“Protectiveness.” Derek explained. “That's what wolves call it.”

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, and I wrote this to be a closed off story/its own little moment inspired by the show. This is a complete story, however, if there is enough interest, I might turn this concept into a longer oneshot and expand on the idea. It would not be me writing a 'part 2' of this, it would be me using this concept and writing a longer oneshot. I do have a personal vested interest in writing about powerful characters defeating abusers, but currently I don't have the time to turn this into something longer, so this is all I wrote. Please do not harass me about making this longer or posting something more, and if you're going to leave a comment asking for a continuation, please also tell me what you liked about this current story. Though I have something else in mind, I do consider this to be a completed story on its own.

#sundrop writes #teen wolf #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you

626 notes · View notes