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strang3lov3 · 1 month

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Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel.

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple. You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something.

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy.

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand.

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you.

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic.

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable.

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you.

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.”

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake.

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.”

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.”

The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear, “S’okay, sweet girl.”

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles.

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft.

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you.

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

“Is that it?”

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says. “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.”

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste.

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to.

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.�� Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs.

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view.

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try.

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you.

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips.

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment.

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt.

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt.

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold.

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure. You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure.

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on.

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg.

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend.

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man.

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x virgin reader

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chrollohearttags · 8 months

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silver foxes

the men who are twice your age and half the headache. The ones who show up to your doorstep, flowers in hand and gifts in the other before taking you out on a date. That’s only after he told you to go crazy with his credit card to buy the perfect dress and heels for the occasion. The kind of a man that opens your door, drapes his coat around you and even puts it on the ground so you don’t dare splash your feet with that puddle. He’s the man that teaches you never to settle or compromise on your standards…to always expect princess treatment and nothing less of being regarded as his queen. The man that has your bills paid on time on every month before you even have time to look at them and tells you put your money up because hey, he’s got your hair and nails covered too. Five star dinners, always dressed in designers and smells like Tom Ford cologne. He’s also the man that brings you home after a night out and undresses you right there in the doorway because you looked far too sexy in that tight red dress..accenting every curve on that beautiful body. He’s the man that starts out with slow, sloppy kisses that trails from your lips, neck and down to your belly button but disrespectfully devours your pussy through the seat of those panties he can’t even be vexed to pull off. Only tugging them to the side long enough to spit onto those folds. Honestly, he doesn’t see himself as your sugar daddy or anything but he can’t help but get a taste of that sweetness. Especially when it’s trickling down his chin; staining his stubble and slightly wrinkled cheeks. Right before he decides to hoist your legs midair and bounce you up and down on his cock. You’re thinking to yourself how he possibly harbors so much strength for a man who’s past middle aged but he’s fucking you so good, like someone in his prime youth that you don’t ever question his skills. You claw his back, scream his name and even come twice as he’s twisting you to his leisure. In a full nelson with your panties tucked between your teeth; that dick curving inside of you..a hand on the back of your head and pushed face down into the pillow of the couch as he gives you backshots. Who tells you ‘I know, baby..I know.” When you’re whimpering with his thumb between your lips.,The man that goes rounds with you until you’re both spent and he’s splattering your tight little cunt full of his warm seed. Who tells the Plan B and breakfast in the morning is on him but first, he’ll go run you a warm bath and get you ready for bed.

the type of man that once you start fucking with him..you’ll never go back to the ones your age.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

erwin smith, miche zacharius, levi ackerman, captain smoker, crocodile, leonard burns, kenny ackerman, worwick, silva zoldyck, gildarts, shanks, toji + anyone else you wanna add :) 🫶🏾

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luminnara · 2 months

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Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

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Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #unheavenly creatures

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andypantsx3 · 5 months

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READY OR KNOT | 1 | TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! LENGTH: 4.6k, 1st of 7 chapters

Tetsutetsu’s apartment was exploding with people by the time you made it in from the cold.

Even from outside, you could hear the chatter of dozens of voices, the thumping bass of a distant party playlist. The front door was practically wedged shut by all the bodies blocking it, and you had to suck in a breath as you squeezed yourself through, slithering through what seemed to be every single employee of the Pink Riot agency—a plethora of bulky pro heroes stuffed in among lanky support techs and sleepy-eyed case analysts.

Inside, it stank of warm beer with a slightly sweeter, sharper liquor undertone. Your nose wrinkled. You could only imagine what the scent was like to your alpha and omega coworkers, grateful you had a beta’s dulled sense of smell, and no innate reaction to the physical proximity of other secondary genders. The space was already almost overwhelming as it was, the press of people nearly claustrophobic, although no one else looked like they minded much.

You shoved yourself through the crowd, squeezing through people, somewhat regretting how late you’d gotten here. You hoped there was still something good to drink.

In your defense, you’d gotten bogged down with a bombshell of a new case at the agency, something Mina had pulled you aside to talk about on your way out to the party. She’d meant for you to pick it up Monday, as you couldn’t take any action until a supervising hero had been assigned to you. But it was so unlike any other case you’d been handed in your years at Pink Riot that you’d immediately yanked your coat back off and holed yourself up at your desk, poring over the information in shock.

The case file told you that there was a rogue pro hero harassing and assaulting the omegas in Bunkyo ward—the very ward the Pink Riot agency operated in.

What was more, local authorities suspected someone from the agencies within Bunkyo itself, considering the attacks were exclusively confined to the ward and had so far never deviated. The police had been alerted to the fact that a hero might be involved when one of the omegas who had been attacked last night had escaped, shaken but untouched, and reported their aggressor attempting to strap quirk suppressors on them—tech that was almost exclusively a tool of the heroics trade.

And so all Bunkyo-based agencies had been asked to internally investigate their heroes, with mandatory out-of-agency supervising heroes to be assigned to the cases as well, to ensure everything was above board and no cover ups were being staged. And you, as Mina’s personal friend and therefore the case analyst she trusted most with a sensitive file like this, had been assigned the task.

And it was already almost too mind-boggling for you to bear.

You plowed your way towards the kitchen, eager to chase away the idea of any of your hero coworkers as the perpetrator. You liked and trusted all of the heroes Pink Riot had on call, and hoped so desperately that another agency was at fault here. You couldn’t imagine a single one of them being responsible for something like this. You couldn’t imagine the harasser themself attending this very party.

Once in the kitchen, you discovered that Tetsutetsu had invited more than just the Pink Riot agency itself—he had also apparently invited a plethora of heroes from his former UA days. Sero Hanta and Uraraka Ochako were propped up in the kitchen with Mina and Kirishima, smiling and chatting, while Iida Tenya stood next to them, looking, as usual, like he was on the verge of a hernia. Monoma Neita was skulking in a corner, along with a couple of lower-level heroes you recognized as Tetsu’s Class B friends.

Mina perked up immediately when she caught sight of you, hopping off the counter at Kirishima’s side, beckoning you closer with a hot pink nail.

“You have to taste this disgusting thing Tetsu made,” she told you gleefully, gesturing at something vaguely gelatinous on the stove. You recoiled reflexively, even as Mina ladled a generous portion into a plastic cup for you, passing it over.

You did not like the weight of it in your hand—and the smell of it, even to your duller senses, was not exactly appetizing, more nail polish remover in profile than anything.

“Wow, this looks almost as lovely as the new case file. How generous of you,” you intoned, taking a small, investigative sip. The taste zipped down your spine all the way to your toes, so alcoholic you could almost taste an emergency room visit.

But it figured. Pro heroes in general were a hard bunch to get drunk, their metabolisms fast and their bodies honed to withstand limits a normal person could never. You imagined this was Tetsu’s own invention based on years of personal research.

Mina sloshed her own cup at you, bright-eyed as she normally was, but otherwise looking unruffled. “Tetsu and Eiji already have a bet going which of them can put back more of this, but my bet is on me,” she grinned. “They’re behind a cup already.”

You winced. “Such responsible agency heads I have.”

Mina practically cackled. “You love it.”

You couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at your mouth, listening to her bright laughter. “I do.”

And it was true, after years at the Pink Riot agency you were spoiled for anywhere else.

Your caseload was broad and interesting, Mina and Kirishima the perfect amount of invested but trusting, always caring about the results you brought in for the safety they brought Bunkyo ward, but never micromanaging you or demanding the impossible. The agency was a little bit smaller than other agencies founded by members of their former class—a mid-sized, fairly-closely knit operation that prioritized action and minimized bureaucracy.

And it was a sort of family operation. Mina was an omega, small and bright and totally beautiful the way so many omegas were, the warmness of her personality like a magnet. And Kirishima was her bonded alpha—fairly friendly and easy-going for one, you thought—but strong, firm in his resolve, and deeply committed.

You liked them, liked their relationship, and liked how their traits translated to their management of their joint agency. You liked how the agency had basically sprung up around them, filled to the brim with good people. And so yeah, Mina was right. You did love it.

“Make sure you unwind,” Mina ordered you, flashing a pink nail in your face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that it’s been like two hours since I saw you disappear with that case file.”

Your cheeks heated. “Did you know some agency heads like it when their employees do their jobs?”

Mina grinned wickedly, then made a sort of clucking noise. “Did you know that some agency heads are no funsies? I like when my employees do their jobs and still have time for a social life.”

A smile tugged at your mouth. Your social calendar had never been so full as when you started working at Pink Riot, their rosters absolutely packed with outgoing heroes. Someone or other was always throwing a party, organizing a celebratory dinner when an especially big case was closed, or dashing across the floor yelling “drinks on me!” after nailing a particularly notorious villain.

Between the agency and your own friends you thought you were kept rather busy. But the sudden, shifting look of undue interest on Mina’s face told you she thought otherwise.

“When was the last time you went on a date, hmm?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. “I never catch you smelling like anyone. Looking for anyone here?”

“And who told you you could smell me?” you demanded.

Mina cackled. “It’s not like I can turn my nose off. Plus you smell nice and comforting. Very beta. I wouldn’t stop smelling you even if I could.”

Your ears went hot. Alphas and omegas were always so nosy and inquisitive, a byproduct of being able to smell way too much for your comfort, a fact you and your circle of beta friends never missed a chance to bemoan.

And this was not the first time you’d been told as much, most betas apparently smelling some level of chill and less intrusive than the insistent scents of alphas and omegas. You didn’t exactly understand how something could smell chill, but enough people had said it that you accepted it.

“Well then it’s good I’m not polluting that with other smells,” you said. “Now mind your business.”

Mina’s grin was sharp as she reached over to ladle more of Tetsu’s concoction into your cup, a small revenge. “Fine but keep your options open tonight! I know plenty of nice beta boys I can set you up with—there’s a couple of analysts from Ingenium’s crowd here tonight.”

You nodded, affecting sincerity, although you had absolutely no plan to follow through. You were going to find your agency friends, go ham on some apps, and then head back home just as soon as Mina and Kirishima ended the night the way they usually did—locked mouth to mouth after drinking a little too much, causing a scene.

You waved Mina away, poking your head back out the kitchen door and surveying the rest of the party. Over near the couch, you caught a flash of a couple of your fellow case analysts in conversation with Asui Tsuyu, a beta hero at your agency who you got on well with. Your people exactly.

However, no sooner had you started to push back into the crowd than something slammed into your shoulder, sending you stumbling back into the wall. Your drink splashed right up over your shoulder, cold and biting. You let out a strangled noise, turning your head on impulse and catching a mouthful of hair.

“Oh my god, I am sooo sorry,” a soft voice said. You realized you’d collided with an omega analyst from another Bunkyo agency—a girl you vaguely remembered from a joint case a few years ago. She was small, petite, and delicately pretty in the way of most omegas. And she had also managed to empty nearly the entirety of your cup onto you.

“Shit, shit—I got your shirt wet!” she said, yanking herself back from you. She looked a little glassy-eyed, but genuinely apologetic, and she wiped at your shoulder with her bare hand. Definitely a bit drunk.

“No—it’s fine,” you told her, attempting to duck her hand. “I also didn’t see you!”

The omega girl didn’t look reassured however. She frowned, pausing over you—then suddenly slithered right out of her cardigan, throwing it over your shoulders.

“We’ll hide it like that. Please take it,” she said, her delicate fingers flitting back and forth over your now-covered shoulder, like she still itched to fix something. The cardigan was soft and warm, and even you could tell it smelled good—a soft, powdery, classically omegan scent.

“It’s really fine—” you insisted, immediately shrugging the cardigan back off, though you appreciated the gesture. You glanced down at your shoulder, surveying the damp patch that was slowly soaking closer to your boob. “It’s clear—it will dry in a couple of minutes and no one will be any the wiser. It already stinks like alcohol in here anyway.”

The omega girl hesitated as you handed her sweater back to her. She leaned in to sniff you tentatively. “Are you sure? I really am so sorry. Your mate is going to be so mad, now you can’t really smell you over the vodka unless you get in close—”

You held up a hand, sending her a reassuring smile. “I don’t have a mate, so there’s no problem. I promise.”

You did not add that as a beta, your pool of potential mates was limited to other betas, and that no beta’s sense of smell was enough to get worked up over this. Alphas and omegas tended to forget that not everyone was as sensitive as they were.

She bit her lip, the gesture pretty, but looked somewhat mollified. “You’re sure?” she ventured one last time.

You nodded. “Totally sure. I appreciate the gesture though.”

She nodded, still looking hesitant, and you decided there was only one way to put an end to this.

“Nice to see you, though. Maybe I will catch you around later!” you said, waving her off firmly. You quickly abandoned your now empty cup on a nearby table and turned to head back into the living room. You spotted Tsuyu’s head of dark green hair through the crowd of shoulders, a homing beacon in the dim.

As you charted an unsteady path through the crush of people, you noted several more heroes and analysts from other agencies, including Kaminari Denki and a beaming Midoriya Izuku, crammed into a corner and chatting animatedly to—oh.

Your cheeks flushed. Pro hero Shouto was here.

The other hero stood tall and solemnly handsome across from Midoriya, just as maddeningly gorgeous as always. You, like every other person with working eyeballs, had long nursed a tiny bit of a celebrity crush on him, as he was literally the most beautiful person on earth—a fact evidenced by his now six-year running sweep of Tokyo Beat magazine’s cutest hero award.

In your time at Pink Riot, you’d worked a couple of joint cases with Shouto’s agency and met him a few times in passing. You’d always found him to be a little bit intense, but kind, thoughtful, straightforward, and diligent. He was every bit the reassuring hero the media made him out to be, and even more striking in person. He also always wore scent patches flush at the sides of his neck, concealing what his secondary gender was from prying noses, although you’d always sort of suspected he had to be an omega.

He was tall and solid and strong in the way of most pro heroes. But his features were so finely-wrought, so strangely graceful and elegant for a man, that you would have put significant amounts of money down on his omega status.

Not that it mattered. Betas really only dated betas, and alphas really only omegas, so Shouto’s status wasn’t much to you, regardless of what it was.

You slipped past, averting your eyes, wondering absently if an omega like Todoroki Shouto ever encountered harassment like the victims in your newest case file. Maybe his scent blockers were for this very purpose—hiding his omega status so he didn’t run the risk. You imagined with a face like his, he would be sure to garner migraine-inducing levels of undue interest.

This thought was suddenly arrested, however, when a hand pressed to your chest, shoving you back into the wall you were sidling past.

Your breath wooshed out of your lungs as a strangled “fwuuh” noise escaped you. Your gaze jerked up to find an alpha you somewhat recognized was holding you against the wall, grinning in an incredibly unsettling way.

Fuzzily, you matched his face to one of the techs from the support department, someone you occasionally saw at work functions but never worked directly with. Support interfaced mainly with the heroes, mending their tech, inventing new items, and—if Mina’s complaints were to be believed—running up quite the bill for the agency with their experimentation.

“Can I—help you?” you garbled out, staring the alpha down.

He leaned in, leery, slurring, “What’sa pretty li’l thing like you doin’ here, huh?”

He smelled strongly of Tetsutestu’s horrid concoction, like the alcohol was literally seeping from his pores. You frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his hand. It was large, and too-warm against your shoulder, and the desire to turn and bite it welled up in your mouth.

“Can you get off me?” you asked, grabbing the alpha by the wrist. A support tech though he was, his hold on you was firm, and your grip didn’t dislodge him. He clung to your sweater, his gaze glassy but intense.

He closed his eyes, nose twitching like he was-–ew—like he was scenting you. “Aww come on baby. A li’l omega like you? There’s no need to pr’tend you don’t want this.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion bubbling up inside you. A little omega like you? What the fuck was he talking about? Was he that blasted?

“You have three seconds before I bite you,” you said, certain that would be clear enough, even if he was too drunk to tell you were a beta.

But his hand didn’t move. Instead he laughed, hot and humid and smelling strongly of liquor, and he fumbled with something at his belt.

A hot wave of fear suddenly washed over you, a stab of panic lancing your heart. He wasn’t going to expose himself right here, was he? You pushed back against the wall, feeling entrapped, yanking at his wrist harder to get him off of you.

“I’m not an omega,” you said loudly. “And I’m not interested, now get—”

The alpha’s hand was gone. You blinked, suddenly finding his face missing too, your vision gone entirely gray and strangely…knitted?

“Do not touch her,” a deep voice intoned, and you realized you were staring at a broad back, clad in a handsome gray sweater. You tipped your head back, your gaze fixing on a suspiciously familiar mop of scarlet and white hair.

Shouto. Pro hero Shouto had put himself in between you and the asshole alpha.

A thrill raced down your spine.

“The fuck I won’t,” a snort issued over one of Shouto’s strong shoulders.

There was a small, silent moment where you watched Shouto’s head tilt just the tiniest bit. He didn’t say anything in return—but a sudden, creeping unease slithered over your senses, raising the hair on the back of your neck. An audible hush fell over the people nearest you, though you couldn’t see what exactly was happening, caged between Shouto’s back and the wall.

You could just make out Shouto’s scent patches, perfectly even against his neck like always, and wondered whether they would help—-if the alpha couldn’t smell Shouto was an omega, maybe he thought he would respect his boundaries more?

“Dude—” someone hissed, from somewhere near the alpha, just as Shouto spoke once more.

“You will leave,” he intoned in that deep tone again. His voice was soft, placid—but the feeling of unease grew within you, a strange itch under your skin. You had the sudden urge to flee, but one of Shouto’s hands closed over your wrist, as a cerulean eye caught yours over his shoulder. “You…please stay.”

You could do nothing but nod, your feet practically freezing in place, the desire to obey subsuming your entire brain. What the hell was happening?

As Shouto turned back to face the alpha again, that hunted feeling grew stronger, like there was something in the apartment that you should be very, very wary of. Your throat started to close up, and your breath came a little short.

The room was so suddenly silent that you could hear the nervous shift of the people beyond Shouto, and you caught the sound of the alpha suddenly stumbling back.

“You’re—are you fucking Ordering me?” The alpha asked, but you could hear that he was still backing away.

The question crawled right under your skin along with the unsettled feeling.

An Order. As in, an Alpha Order. From Shouto? Pretty, kind, patient, careful Shouto? Classic omega material Shouto?

Was…using an Order on an alpha, and it was working?

Your head spun with the mismatch between Shouto’s face and the latent command in his tone. It was almost too strange to be contemplated, and yet here it was playing out in front of you.

Shouto, for his part, didn’t bother answering the question. “I believe I asked you to leave,” he said firmly. His voice carried an inflection that sliced through the air like a knife.

“Sorry, Todoroki, he’s super fucking drunk—I’ll get him out of here,” another voice said, one you recognized as a different support tech.

It sounded like he didn’t need to expend the effort, however, as the alpha’s footsteps were already beating a hasty retreat. The other support tech’s footsteps followed, his pace clipped on the hardwood.

As soon as they were out of view, the suffocating feeling all but evaporated. You could almost feel the sigh of relief around the room, and the line of Shouto’s shoulders untensed.

He turned to you slowly, drawing in a deep breath. His normally blank expression had been exchanged for something troubled, his perfect eyebrows knitted in concern, his full mouth pursed up like he’d just let it drop from a snarl.

He blinked down at you for a second, those distinct heterochromatic eyes flicking over you, before you found yourself suddenly crowded back into the corner, your back bumping the wall. Shouto leaned down and gave a delicate sniff at your temple, as if checking your condition.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was still strange, rough with something you couldn’t name.

He was warm where he lingered over you, his shoulders broad enough that they blocked the light and cast falling shadows into the meager space between you. He was near enough that the dip of his sweater collar rasped over your shoulder, sending a swarm of tingles over your skin. You drew in a careful breath, trying to figure out just what the right answer was, coming up with nothing.

Shouto frowned over your lack of a response. His nose pressed right into your hair, and he crowded even closer, like he was trying to find the source of your discomfort—even though he’d just chased that source right through the front door.

“Your scent is difficult to find,” he murmured, his chest expanding and contracting. “It is covered by many things…” He trailed off as he seemed to find it—and then something strange happened—even stranger than the scene with the support tech alpha.

Shouto froze in place, going so unearthly still he might have been transmuted into marble. You heard his breath catch and hold in his lungs, and his fingers came up to grasp your sleeve, clutching you tightly.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when a shudder swept down him, from head to toe. His grip on your wrist tightened for a moment, and a groan bubbled up from somewhere low in his throat.

“Your scent—” he rasped, then cut himself off.

He huffed out a harsh breath instead, stirring your hair, before his face dropped into the cradle of your shoulder. He breathed in, slow, measured, his mouth just barely touching the skin of your throat. You could feel his long, pretty eyelashes flutter against your skin, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine.

Something under your skin shifted in response, then.

To your utter shock, you could feel yourself tilting your head to the side, baring your neck. A strange feeling of malleability settled over you, like your bones had jellified and your muscles had atrophied.

“Shouto—?” you garbled out, unable to articulate any question beyond what the fuck was happening? You knew it had something to do with the way Shouto was most definitely not an omega after all. The thought made your brain fuzz with static.

Pretty, gentle, elegant Todoroki Shouto was an alpha. Kind, placid, beautiful Todoroki Shouto was even some kind of…distressingly strong alpha.

It crossed all the wires in your brain to think of that face possessing that kind of strength. But there was clearly something there. And you were being so weird and embarrassing about it, but you couldn’t have moved, even if you wanted to.

It felt like a short eternity, the time Shouto stood over you like that, his face pressed into your throat, your own throat bared to him. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest, simultaneously hammering a zillion miles a minute, and yet feeling slow, syrupy.

Distantly, you registered the hum of voices in the background, Tetsutetsu trying to rekindle the happy atmosphere. But Shouto was so warm over you, breathing slow and shallow, a tall, strong anchor weighing you against the wall.

It could have been minutes or hours before he finally stepped away. He looked calmer, but a little dazed. You felt the same way, mystified by what had just occurred between you.

His gaze picked over you in some kind of assessment. “You’re well?” he asked carefully. His voice was pitched low.

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat weirdly dry. “Yeah. I—thank you, Shouto.”

Shouto inclined his head in a nod. “You, as well. I don’t usually…I try not to rise to anger. But when alphas try to use their power to—” he cut himself off. His throat bobbed with some emotion you couldn’t name.

“Your scent is….calming to me.”

You nodded. The beta chill thing again, like Mina had said.

“Your friendly neighborhood beta, at your service,” you saluted him, trying to ignore the strange, lingering shiver in your limbs.

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Shouto’s mouth, but his gaze remained fixed on you, almost inhumanly intense.

“That is not quite what I mean,” he said, but did not elaborate. There was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t know him well enough to try to dig into it.

Instead you just gave him another smile, your face heating as you noticed several people around you were still watching you.

You figured it was probably time to make an escape after that little scene you had just caused, for Shouto’s reputation as well as yours. You didn’t need people thinking Shouto had been scenting you for any reason other than your apparent beta chill pill scent, especially now that people at the party would know he was an alpha.

God, he was an alpha, even with a face like that.

You waved at him, garbling out another, “Well, thanks for the save! I, um, have to be going, but I’ll see you around!” before throwing yourself back through the crowd, your head spinning.

Mina had come out of the kitchen and tried to flag you down as you passed. You waved back at her like you’d misunderstood, quickly fighting your way back to Tetsu’s front door. You felt the weight of dozens of eyes on your back, and the prick of two heterochromatic ones, somehow more certain and weightier than the others. But you didn’t turn around, eager to get out of the crowd, still reeling from what had happened.

You didn’t know how you had been mistaken for an omega by that drunk alpha, and understood even less what had possessed Shouto to sniff you all over like that, embarrassed by how much you had liked it. It most probably had something to do with how inherently non-aggressive beta scents were supposed to be, maybe helping Shouto down from how keyed up he’d been about that other alpha.

But it had still been so embarrassing and strange, the way your head had tipped right back for him, the way your limbs had gone to jelly in his hold. You hoped he’d had a little to drink too or he’d probably realize how weird you were, reacting like that.

Finally, you spilled out of Tetsu’s and into the night, the evening air cool on your heated skin. The phantom touch of Shouto’s mouth still lingered on your throat, warm and disconcerting.

You beelined for home, your head swimming. You wondered just how long it would take you to forget how very strange this evening had been.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #character: todoroki shouto #andie's writing #tw: a/b/o

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beesspacedotorg · 2 months

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Third Leg?

Summary: after spending time with Minho after exams, you remember something he said in the heat of the moment about your packmate Jeongin. You decide to confront Jeongin about it, because after all, what's the worst that can happen?

Warnings: sex. uh. poly ot8 and reader. more omegaverse. continuation of Dibs but can be read on its own. breeding kink?? manhandling ??? reader is lowkey a brat, uh. Jeongin's dick is huge. I actually don't know what else to add, so let me know if there's another thing I should put in here. reader is an omega but gender and genitals are unspecified as always

notes: I got possesed by a demon when I was writing this. I don't even have a breeding kink. Also if the title is bad, no. this is my first time writing Jeongin, so if it's bad no it isn't. this is his very late birthday present. Happy Birthday, King.

to read: Dibs

In most things, you try to be reasonable. It does not come easy to you, it doesn’t come easy to most people. You wish your pack would be more understanding of this sometimes. You know that’s an unfair thing to say about, to say to, your pack, but you can’t help it. You really don’t want to, you really can’t spend Jeongin’s rut with him. It’s the middle of the semester, you’re still convinced the Luna doesn’t like you, and you’d prefer not to think too hard about your relationship with anyone else. You’re comfortable with Hyunjin and you’re comfortable with Changbin. Everyone else, you think, couldn’t care whether you were around or not.

“That’s unfair to think, dove. Of course they want you around. We want you around.” Hyunjin says, he’s holding your face in his palms in a way that he often does when he talks to you.

“I know, but I really don’t feel comfortable yet, it’s only been a couple months, and it took me so long to get used to being around you.” You huff and you can feel a heat forming behind your nose. “I just really- I don’t want to spend Innie’s rut with him. I can’t.” Hyunjin hums affirmingly and swipes a finger under your eye to cut off a tear, but otherwise makes no comment about your crying.

“You want them to stop pushing,” he says, and you nod at him.

“I want them to stop pushing.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. But, please don’t say we don’t want you around. We do. At the very least, I do. Okay?” You nod at him and smile slightly as he kisses your nose, it turns into a laugh when he gets insistent, peppering kisses all over your face until you’re shoving him off and smiling wide at him.

“So.” You have a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth when he comes into the kitchen. In all reality, you aren’t supposed to be here. You only stopped by for a quick snack before you went to head into work, but then there was something at the shop so your boss told you to stay home. You’d intended to detour to the campus library instead to catch up on some homework, but between your first and second bowls of cereal you had switched out of your outside clothes to sweats and an old t-shirt, and now you’re standing three feet away from Yang Jeongin.

“So?” You set the bowl down on the counter.

“You don’t want to spend my rut with me.” You draw your shoulders up to your ears defensively. You think something in your scent must turn sour because you see Jeongin wrinkle his nose.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad or anything. I just wanted to know if you’d tell�� me why.” You pause, picking up your spoon and stirring the milk around the bowl, listening to the clink clink clink of metal on ceramic. Something about his question confuses you.

“If?”

“Yeah, ‘if.’ I don’t want to pressure you for information if you’re not ready to give it. If you’re uncomfortable with spending my rut with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to tell me you’re uncomfortable, that’s also fine.”

“I don’t want to tell you why.” He shrugs. You’re surprised at how easy that was.

“That’s fine. I have another question though.”

“Hmm?”

“Could we hangout, or something? Before you steer clear of the house for a week and a half, I want to spend time with you. Unfortunately,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ve come to enjoy your company and if I don’t spend some time with you I might do something drastic.” He’s slowly approaching you now, crowding you against the counter. He’s given you plenty of time to walk away or move, but you haven’t, so he continues.

“Drastic, you say.” He hums, taking your bowl and putting it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

“Drastic like breaking every single door that separates the two of us just to make sure you’re safe.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, nose against your neck. His hair smells like baby powder, like his shampoo that you and Hyunjin sometimes steal. You can feel him shake with laughter when your scent changes with arousal as he gets in your space.

“You’re easy.” You hit his back slightly.

“You’re mean.”

“Will you hangout with me, though? I was mostly serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll hangout with you.”

“Great,” he says, and you let out a small shriek as he drags you in the direction of his room. The door is halfway closed when he yells across the house.

“I call dibs until my rut starts!” You can hear the groans and complaints through his now shut door.

So, you spend time with him, both before and after his rut, and nobody comments on how annoying it is that you’re monopolizing his time like you thought they would. There’s a point where Hyunjin interrupts you because he wants Jeongin’s dick in his mouth, and when you move to leave, they both start complaining. (You left anyway, not being ready for that just yet, but the idea made you feel warm regardless.)

You don’t get to spend much time with him after that though, because then you have Minho and exams flooding your vision and your senses, and while one of those things is enjoyable, the other isn’t and for two seconds you’d like your brain to be off. Just for two. That time comes and it’s as you’re waking up from your post-fuck nap with Minho that it hits you.

“You said Innie was talking about me during rut?”

“What? Sweetheart, we just woke up.” Minho is rubbing his eyes, smacking his mouth, and blinking cutely. You feel the urge to pinch his cheek but worry that would land you in hot water so you just poke it instead.

“Yes, I know, I know, but. You said Jeongin was talking about me during his rut.”

“Yes? Why do you sound so surprised? You’re our Omega after all.” You flush again at his casual claim on you, he keeps catching you off guard with it.

“He never mentioned it to me.” Minho yawns and slings his arm over your waist.

“You were busy, of course he didn’t mention it to you. Besides, you seemed so … hesitant to spend his rut with him in the first place that he probably didn’t want to mention it at all.” You frown, brows furrowing as you think about it. You move to get out of bed when Minho stops you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To talk to Jeongin.”

“It’s too early for one, and for two. I have some things planned for us.” His hand wanders up your shirt.

“But-”

“I thought you had learned enough to stop arguing with me? Does your mommy need to teach you a lesson?” He says this, but he’s not holding you back. If you wanted to, you could leave this bed and camp outside of Jeongin’s door until he woke up. But you don’t. You don’t even know what you want to say to him, and Minho is tracing soft circles on your skin and you’re struck with undeniable want. You ease yourself back into bed.

“That’s my pretty Omega. So good for me, hmm?”

You don’t get to talk to Jeongin until several days later. You’re too busy sleeping like the dead for a day and a half, then Chan steals you away for a celebratory dinner date, then when you finally get the chance to talk to him, you walk into his room and find him and Yongbok making out, so you’ve had to curb the conversation for later, until now.

“Innie!” He’s slipping his shoes on.

“Yeah?” He never ties them, you notice, ties them once and then slips them on and off over and over again.

“Where are you going?”

“On a walk.”

“Great.” You walk over to him and shove his jacket off his shoulders, then kick at his feet until he takes his shoes back off, and start dragging him to his room.

“What.” He’s confused despite the fact that he’s the one who let it get this far.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him so you can sit too.

“Minho mentioned that you talked about me during your rut.” It comes out of you in a rush. Jeongin’s face flushes red. He covers his face with his hands, his huge hands with their stupidly long fingers.

“Ah. Yes. I did. Are you upset?”

“Am I up- Am I upset?” You’re incredulous. “One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen and one of my Alphas wanted me during his rut and you think I’m upset?”

“Okay, to be fair. You didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of my rut to begin with.”

“I was new to the pack!”

“You’d been with us for three months!”

“Like I said, new!” He huffs and knocks you onto your back, laying across you in the way you’ve seen the others do to him.

“Why did you come to talk to me about it?” You flush at his question and you can hear his little chuckle. The members joke that he learned how to be mischievous from Minho and Seungmin, and you’ve never seen it more than right now.

“Oh? I see.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“Minho hyung says you like when people are mean.”

“Minho said what?!”

“I’m kidding, he refused to tell us what you two got up to, but now I know that I’m not too far off.” You grab a pillow from behind your head and smack him with it. He moves himself until your noses are touching and smiles at you. You smile back and poke around his face until your finger lands in a dimple.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” His voice is soft, low, because of how close he is to your face and he smirks when your scent fills the room.

“You do?” You nod at him and he tuts.

“Minho’s taught you better than that.” You huff and pout at him. He laughs and kisses you.

“I’ll let you get away with it because you’re cute.” You beam at him and he smiles back.

He starts with kissing you, because of course he does. It’s soft and sweet and a little hesitant and it’s similar to the way you’ve seen him kiss Yongbok, but different from the way you’ve seen him kiss Seungmin and you’re struck with the realization that he sees you as something soft and precious. That he’ll hold you with the same amount of delicacy he uses to hold Felix and your heart stutters in your chest for a minute.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He’s pulling away, looking at you with wide eyes as your scent changes. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head at him, pulling him close for a hug for a minute as you calm yourself down.

You’ve never had a pack before, your culture has moved away from it. You had to move from your family for school and since then you’ve been relatively alone. It’s been a while since you’ve felt loved, and when you’re faced with the sheer amount of it the eight of them have to give it overwhelms you every time. He hasn’t hurt you, it’s the opposite.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Ah, I see. Hyungs’ said you might cry a little. That’s okay. Do you want to stop?” You shake your head at him, answering with a verbal “no” after he stares at you pointedly. You lean in to kiss him again and he responds with the same gentleness he did before and you can feel yourself slicking up in your pants. You hear him take a sharp inhale and then you feel his grip tighten where his hands were resting on the side of your face and neck.

“Jesus, I can see why hyung keeps you to himself all the time. You smell so fucking good.” He stops kissing you to start making out with your neck, you can feel him starting to scent you and you tug at him, whining.

“Innie-”

“Yeah, I know, but-” he cuts himself off with a groan and you can feel his hips press into yours and dear God.

“Is that your leg?”

“No.” You whine again. There’s no fucking way his dick is that big. You tell him so.

“Well. Prepare to eat your words because it is.”

You huff at him again, and really, he should spend less time around the more sarcastic pack members because his attitude is making your eye twitch. He sees it and smiles mischievously at you before landing a soft peck right below the same eye.

“I’d like to see how you handle Hannie or Seungmin hyung. They’re worse than I am.”

“They also probably move faster than you do.” He grumbles at you at that and gets to work undressing the two of you. He’s sliding his hoodie off when you’re filled with the urge to bite his biceps. They’ve gotten bigger since you’ve been introduced to him and you think it’s crazy because you hardly ever see him work out. Suddenly, there’s a large palm against your forehead and any forward movement you had started is quickly stopped.

“What are you doing?” You can feel your teeth click together as your mouth closes and you blink a couple times.

“Nothing.” He squints at you.

“You were going to bite me, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re a liar!” You’re being manhandled now, and you refuse to go down without a fight. You grab a pillow and nail him in the face with it.

“I am not! I’ve never- don’t pull my hair- I’ve never lied!”

“You’re doing it right- why are your nails so fucking long- right now!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Did you just fucking- ow! What the hell?” You finally manage to get your teeth on his arm and it’s just as great as you imagined it would be. Your victory is incredibly short lived because between one second and the next Jeongin has you pinned to the bed. Your cheek is pressed against the mattress and he has your arm twisted in a way that’s mildly uncomfortable, but that’s overshadowed by how you can feel him pressed against you to keep you pinned. He’s all lean muscle and you can feel where his shoulders press against yours and where his cock is pressed against your ass and if you tilt your hips just right, you can feel him brush against your slick hole.

“Oh? Does my pretty Omega want something?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. You can also hear how it’s dropped three octaves and you can feel it rumbling from his chest. You can feel how his cock is starting to leak against your skin.

“Jeongin-”

“I think,” he grabs your other arm, pinning your wrists at the small of your back, “that if you want anything you should beg for it.”

“Innie, you’re not being fair-”

“I’m not being fair? You bit me. I have you pinned. If you want anything from me, you’re going to have to work for it.” You turn your head into the mattress and let out a small sob, wiggling a bit in Jeongin’s hold. His hands loosen on your wrists and he lifts his weight off of you enough that you could get out if you wanted to. Minho did this too, gave you signals with his body to let you know that it was okay to not want it, the problem is that you do. You like how Jeongin has you pinned, and you like the humiliation that’s going to come with begging for it.

He notices you haven’t moved and so his grip tightens on your wrists again. You feel the chuckle he lets out as he presses his weight down onto you again and you know your scent must be doing something because he inhales with his nose pressed straight against your neck.

“Get to begging, baby. I have all night.” You whine at that, wiggling and trying to push your hips back against his to fuck yourself onto his cock, but he pulls his hips back, readjusts until you couldn’t reach his cock unless you dislocated something and he laughs at you.

Jeongin does have all night, it turns out, because you spend a considerable amount of time with your forehead pressed into the mattress trying to will the shame that comes with wanting out of your body. At one point, he asks you if you’re alright, dropping the act for a bit and when you respond he resorts to taunting you.

He’s doing it now, taking his ridiculously large dick in his hand and gathering some of the slick that’s leaked between your legs to jerk it. You can hear the wet noises it’s making and you can’t help but think of how much louder it would be if he were actually fucking you. It turns out that your Alpha was thinking the same thing because he starts talking, and each word chips away at the lump in your throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby. Your slick is so warm, I bet it’d be warmer if I got it straight from the source, yeah? What do you think? You’re leaking so much you’ve made a wet spot on the bed, maybe I should fuck that instead, since you wanna be stubborn.” You whine in response.

“No? You don’t want me to do that? I think I should. Or should I just finish on your back?” Your next answering whine is more of a wail.

“Oh, I see. You’re a little cumwhore is that it? Want me to come inside of you? Hmm? Get our Omega pregnant?” You moan this time, drooling onto the sheets. Jeongin grabs your head and turns it to the side so he can see you better, or so that you can see him and how he’s about to waste his cum on you instead of in you. The drool smears onto your cheek and you can feel your eyes start to well up with tears because you know he’s close.

“Please.” It escapes from you in a pathetic whimper and the hand that was stroking his cock pauses.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” You know he did, but you also know that if you don’t repeat yourself and beg good enough he really will make good on his promise to finish on your back and leave you there.

“Innie, Jeonginnie, please. I want- I want-”

“Want what? Hmm? A slice of cake, a new Minecraft update?” You huff at his mocking, but it’s too wet to really hold any weight, and you can feel your lip wobbling, so you’re not surprised when what you say next is more of a sob than anything else.

“Your cock. Jeongin, Alpha, please. You said you wanted me during your rut, don’t you want me now?” It’s a low blow, and even through your desperation you know that, but you’ll do what it takes to get him to finally stick his huge dick in you.

“Oh, baby. I do. Don’t worry.” His fingers are searching for your entrance, stretching you out just enough for it to not burn too bad, but you’re so wet, and both of you are so needy, you know that you’ll just have to deal with the pain of not preparing for his stupid dick later because you want it now.

“Then,” he made the mistake of letting go of your wrists to grab your hip instead, and you ball your hands into fists and hit the bed in frustration, “why aren’t you fucking me?” He huffs a laugh.

“All that and you’re still giving me trouble? You’re lucky you’re cute, Omega. So lucky.” You start to kick your feet at him but you’re stopped by the fact that he’s slowly starting to push into you, making a home for himself inside your body and slowly forcing the breath from your lungs.

It burns, and you expected it to with how unprepared you were, but it feels good and you don’t care so that will have to be a later-you problem.

“Jesus, you feel so good, baby. Better than I imagined.” He starts a rough rhythm right off the bat, and you’re needy enough that it doesn’t bother you, besides, you’re pretty sure he was edging himself earlier, so he’s entitled to this.

“Felix hyung and I talked about it, you know. When I was in rut. You left.” The last part comes out as a soft growl, and he coughs to get himself in check before pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades.

“You left and I thought about how warm you’d feel inside. Felix wondered too, said he wanted to know how sweet you were.” You hear him chuckle. “Y’know I got him to come untouched from just talking about you, pretty baby?”

You gasp, letting out a shuddery moan at that, and you hear Jeongin laugh above you. You were already halfway to delirious with how good he was fucking you- hard enough to shake the bed and bang the headboard against the wall- but something about knowing that the pack wants you always makes you just that much wetter, always makes your head that much lighter, so you can’t help but clench down around his cock and get everything around you soaked with more of your slick.

“Jeonginnie, Alpha, I- please- I want to-”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, baby. I won’t make you beg for this one.” He presses himself down against your back, knocking your knees out from under you so you’re flat against the bed and have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“The next one, though. I make no promises.”

The new angle has you going dumber than you were before and you can feel Jeongin’s breath in puffs of hot air against your neck. You whine at him, moaning as you’re trapped underneath his body and when you come it’s with white spots dancing across your vision. You’re just coming down when you feel him start to pull out and you surprise both yourself and him with the growl that comes out of you.

“Yang Jeongin, so help me God if you do not come inside of me-” He shuts you up by doing just that, bullying his knot into you until it pops and rolling the two of you onto your sides so you’re not laying in the multiple spots of wet that have stained his sheets.

“You’re bossy.” It’s said against your hair while his stupidly big hands come up to massage the crick in your neck that’s finally made itself present. “How do you get away with that when you’re with Minho hyung?”

“I listen to him. Mostly.” He pinches you, you pinch back. You sit in silence for a minute.

“Was it good? Or, as good as you imagined?” You try not to sound insecure as you say it, but you know that you’ve probably missed the mark.

“Better. Way better.” He kisses the spot he was just massaging and winds his arm around your middle. “Nap time. You’ll need your energy when I get you back for being a little shit.”

“I wasn’t.” He scoffs at you.

“Yeah, sure. And my name is Chan.”

“Hi, Chan, how are you?”

“Cancel what I said earlier. The second we aren’t locked together anymore I’m kicking you out.” You laugh at him.

#bee blurbs #ft.innie #a bee o #yang jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #i.n x you #yang jeongin x you #yang jeongin hard thoughs #yang jeongin smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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darkdemeter · 2 months

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

A/N — Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hotto potatoh commanding a vessel on the high seas.

Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

*4.1𝐤 ────────────────┘

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

────────────────┘

There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss.

Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above.

You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew.

To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that.

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface.

A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger.

Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation.

Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body.

His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment.

He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation.

“I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

“Aye?”

Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep.

Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link.

However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance.

Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own.

Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf.

His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea.

The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back.

“Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion.

“But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze.

Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...”

A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest.

He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

“Yes, Captain Barnes.”

Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of.

Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes.

“That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge.

“All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp.

“She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

“She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands, “Do it.”

Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door.

He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.”

With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again.

“Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.”

His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours.

To remind you to whom it was you belong to.

His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath.

He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity.

“Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

“C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.”

Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder.

You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.

“That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder.

“I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.”

“Please, please… Cap—”

“Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.”

You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear.

His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop.

What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan.

In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm.

The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together.

“Still deny that you found nothing?”

His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side.

The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.”

Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

For you to be his siren.

Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out.

Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite.

You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge.

The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere.

Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval.

Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace.

This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief.

Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst.

You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts.

Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord.

Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song.

It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home.

But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head.

Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune.

He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so.

Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him.

“Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “I– I wasn’t—”

Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip. “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #pirate au #pirate bucky #siren reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader

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ciades · 6 months

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✪ — WINNER TAKES IT ALL ; bada lee x f!reader | !SPOILERS!

summary: it all comes down to this: bada’s just won street woman fighter, and needs someone to celebrate with. (spoiler: overstimulation + 🧠 from bada) the mighty fall universe

pairing: bada lee x swf2!f!reader

warning: SMUT!! it’s intense + not for the faint hearted. you’re responsible for what you read <3

Bada’s eaten you out plenty of times before.

But never like this— never with this intensity. You’re blushing furiously as she adjusts you, hooking one calf over her shoulder so she can nuzzle up against your cunt.

“This pussy is my reward, isn’t it?,” She murmurs, never before sounding so undone, so starved. “I won the competition, so I get to put my mouth on this pretty cunt, don’t I?” Before you can think of a reply to give her, Bada parts your labia with her fingers, pouncing forward to lick into you.

You let out a yelp, legs tensing automatically, digging your heels into her back as her rough tongue laps over your folds. The cold edges of the bathroom sink dig into your ass, and your thankful for Bada keeping you balanced and supporting most of your weight. Every flick of her tongue is precise and experienced, making you shiver as her nose rubs against your clit. The sensation has your back arching, a rising pressure— you’re sensitive.

“Bada,” you whine helplessly, no other option but to reach down and hold onto her hair. Bada hums against your pussy in affirmation, effortlessly sinking two fingers into your dripping heat. Your cunt stretches and clenches around the intrusion, and when she adds the third, a high-pitched moan escapes your mouth.

Bada moans in response at your pleasure, the sound vibrating through your core. You can feel her smiling against your skin.

Your hand, previously stroking her hair, clenches a fist against her now mussled locks. A loud groan leaves Bada’s mouth at the pulling sensation, lips latching onto your clit and sucking hard.

It all feels too much, you’re too hot, sweating in the white and pink outfit your Jam Republic team mates chose for you. Your dress is wrinkled from being pulled up to your hips by Bada. You’re breathing heavily and Bada purrs. She purrs and the sound goes straight to your clit.

“You- you feel so good, Bada please-“ Now you’re begging, but unsure what for. Your vision blurs when she starts fucking her fingers into you even faster, the squelching sound almost too loud to bear. Bada continues her devilish pace until the pressure in your belly builds, and builds, and—

“Wait!—“ You sob, but it’s too late. Bada pushes a fourth finger inside and you feel so full , drooling out another gush of slick, which Bada licks up.

The world blurs through the wetness of your lashes, on the wet heat of your breath puffing against your own hand in attempts to silence yourself, on Bada’s fingers, nudging you open as deep as she can go. It stings, but your toes curl. It stings, but your thighs shake, you whisper things like deeper, harder, don’t stop, don’t stop—

Your orgasm is sudden and splintering. You choke on a cry, your wetness gushing out of you and spilling onto Bada’s hand, which is still thrusting in and out in an eye-roll inducing rhythm. Bada laps it up eagerly, chasing your taste and nipping hard at your clit until you shake.

You’re oversensitive, nearly numb from the after shock, pussy flushed and twitching from Bada’s administrations. Bada drinks your release all through your orgasm, only stopping when you fist a hand in her hair and pull her away.

“B-bada,” You hiccup, flushed and trembling, “Too much.”

Bada rises from between your legs, face drenched with your slick, eyes wild and gleaming. She keeps her fingers plugged into your cunt for a few seconds, stroking your inner walls until you’re shaking.

“Good girl,” Bada says roughly, gently pulling her hand out of you, turning her head to plant kisses on your thighs. “My baby’s always so good for me, isn’t she?”

You just hum and smile in agreement, too tired to say more. Bada stands up and lets you collect yourself for a few moments before you both have to return to the celebration, peppers your face with kisses, moving flyaway strands behind your ears in a move so gentle you feel like crying.

“All those prizes and you’re the best gift yet.” She teases.

A scoff escapes you, raising your arms to engulf her in a hug. “Have I told you how proud I am? How much I loved seeing you dance on that stage?”

“I think you’ve shown me that plenty already, y/n.”

#bada lee x reader #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee #swf2 #bada lee x y/n #bada lee swf2 #Bebe #bada lee imagine #bada lee smut #badagf writes

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yabakuboi · 2 months

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Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

#steddie #steddie fic #this was originally meant for a steddie love month prompt but i missed posting it up LOL #when will i write steddie without robin??? never #their three musketeer-ism is so important to me #they probably fight over her for best man at their wedding #and they are joint best man at her's #the robin eddie rivalry for steve's love but also they are steve protection squad and steve gossip mongers and steve hecklers #steve 'affection-starved' harrington absolutely thriving having two ppl obsessed with him rn #my fic #dribble drabble #my steddies

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

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Hey! So I had this Hurt comfort fic idea with Charles where she is engaged to him. Have you seen the video about the crowd in Montreal surrounding him? So something like them arriving and he's signing and clicking pics through the crowd holding her hand and the crowd and paps goes a bit haywire and she is separated and then visibly very hurt and injured because of that. And Charles is angry and protective, with the "Idc about myself but if anyone touches/hurts you I lose it" or something similar. Add drama and spice as you feel

Thank you Babe ❤️

A Step Too Far || CL16

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut WC: 1.9k

Charles could remember the first time he met your father. Obviously it wasn’t the first first time but it was the first time as your boyfriend, and that made it more important than any of the times they met in the paddock. Toto had gripped his hand tightly as they shook, pulling the younger driver closer to whisper in his ear.

“That’s my daughter, Charles, you put her above all else. It’s my job to protect her, and I’m trusting you here.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll keep her safe.”

“What did he say?” you asked as you left for your date.

“Nothing, ma chérie,” Charles assured you with a smile and a kiss to your cheek.

For three years he had kept that secret promise religiously, even as his popularity grew beyond his wildest expectations. He couldn’t walk down the street without being recognised, crowds gathering and people asking for photos or signatures. It wasn’t exactly new for you having grown up the way you did, but Charles’ fans were far more excitable and passionate than the ones who met your father.

Monza 2023

Everywhere you looked it was a sea of red supporters, the tifosi out in force to celebrate the third and fourth places Ferrari had taken in the race. You could see the equal parts of pride and disappointment on Charles’ face as he watched Carlos take the third step on the podium.

After heading back to his driver room, he collapsed into a chair with a groan and hung his head in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, wrinkling your nose at the sweat that dampened his dark hair. “That was a hell of a fight, baby.”

His grunt told you he thought otherwise but he placed his hand over yours and gave it a soft squeeze. “I almost had it, amour.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck until his shoulders bunched up and he wriggled with a laugh at his ticklish spot.

“Okay, okay, no more moping,” he said as he stood up and turned to face you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You held up your hand that had a sparkly new ring resting upon it. “Or I wouldn’t have said yes.”

“I’m very glad you did.” He smiled as he took your hand and kissed the engagement ring. “I need to shower. There’s room for one more…”

Charles kept you tucked close to his side as he made his way through the lines of fans to where his car was pulling up. You were running late once again, after being distracted while you were meant to be getting dressed to go out for dinner. He left your side for only a moment to open your door but that moment was all it took as the metal barriers separating the crowd came crashing down and they surged forward.

The sight and the sound gave you a fright and you stepped back instinctively. “Charles!” He turned at your panicked tone and watched with horror as your heeled foot missed the curb, twisting painfully as you fell. For a second he lost sight of you in the sea of red and he was spurred into action.

“Back up! Get out of my way!” he shouted to the crowd as he pushed his way to you. Rage filled him as he found you crumpled beside his car, arms wrapped protectively around your head while the bodies finally started to give you room. Tears blurred your vision as pain radiated from your ankle and suddenly you were weightless as a familiar pair of arms picked you up. “Amour, are you hurt?”

You could hardly hear him as the crowd demanded his attention, screaming as they waved hats and posters in his direction. The look he sent them should have been warning enough but they were too high on his presence to notice.

“Amour?”

“My ankle,” you admitted with a wince as it was jostled.

He released a torrent of expletives under his breath as he carried you to the driver’s seat and climbed in with you on his lap, your legs hanging over onto the passenger seat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologised as he kissed your temple and pulled out of the hotel.

“It’s not your fault, Charles, I should have been paying more attention.”

“You got hurt because of me, that’s the only reason they were there. Shit.” His eyes darted to the centre screen as it announced an incoming call from Toto and he hit the accept button on the steering wheel.

“You haven’t lost your watch again, have you?” Toto greeted, his voice thick with amusement.

“We are almost there,” he replied as he turned onto the street where the restaurant reservation was booked. “We just ran into some trouble with some fans.”

The silence was deafening until it was broken by the scratch of a chair being pushed back on a wooden floor followed by the click of your father’s footsteps. “Trouble?”

You watched the door to the restaurant open and your father ignored the concierge as he stepped to the curb Charles was pulling up to. “This should be fun.” Charles grimaced at your words and ended the call as Toto tucked his phone away and opened the passenger door.

Toto stared at the empty seat before dragging his eyes across the space to find you on your fiancé’s lap. “Hi papa.”

“Don’t hi me,” he tutted as he walked around and moved the valet along with a wave of his hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you assured him as you accepted his hand out of the sports car. “You two are as dramatic as each other.”

The flare of pain was sudden and impossible to hide when your shoe touched the pavement, the joint weakly giving underneath you. If not for Charles behind you it would have been much worse but he took your weight and kept you upright.

“What the fuck have you done to my daughter, Leclerc?” You found yourself in a tug of war, but you were the rope. Your father tried to pull you out of his arms but your yelp of pain froze the very air. He relinquished his fight and raised his hands before pointing a damning finger at Charles. “Hospital, now.”

“But I’m hungry,” you whined as he instantly moved to follow the order, stepping back towards the Ferrari. “Can’t we go after dinner, please?”

You turned your pleading eyes to your father and watched his resolve weaken.

“No,” Charles interrupted before Toto could agree and you turned to him with a look of betrayal. “Don’t look at me like that, amour. I can’t bear to see you in pain, especially when it’s my fault.”

“At least you take ownership,” Toto muttered. “Susie and I will bring you dinner. Go.”

There was no room to argue, not that Charles would. He respected your father too much for that.

“You need to make a statement,” Toto said tiredly as he sat in the hospital chair opposite Charles. You were on the bed separating them, enjoying the lack of pain while the drugs did their job and waiting for the moonboot to be fitted. “Something like this cannot be allowed to happen again.”

“He didn’t exactly give them permission, papa.”

Charles cut you a look out the corner of his eye before nodding to Toto. “I’ll make sure of it, sir. It might be time to hire some security.”

Your father barely hid his scoff as he muttered, “Better late than never.” Toto sat up straighter and rubbed his tired eyes. “These are things you will need to think about even more in the future, especially when you have children of your own - you’ll realise you can’t wait until something bad happens before making changes. You need to start thinking about the future now, son.”

Charles’ stare turned out the window as he took the advice seriously. You could see the contemplation set in hard lines across his face. The look turned sad when the nurse arrived with the moonboot you would need to wear for at least two weeks and he started to withdraw into himself as he pulled his phone out. Only a few moments later you saw your phone light up with a notification that he had posted to his Instagram.

“Good man,” Toto said as he read the statement that in no uncertain terms warned his fans there would be consequences if they couldn’t respect the boundaries set.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” they both answered adamantly.

“You are all set to go, darling,” the nurse said with a soft smile. “Rest up, and if there are any concerns just come right back.”

After thanking her you hobbled along, sandwiched between your father and fiancé, to the underground car park where the car was waiting.

“I’ll come back to your hotel, make sure you get inside safely,” your father said as he opened your door and kissed your cheek.

“His fans have probably all run away by now.”

“I think you’re underestimating the tifosi. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Toto was right, because if anything there were even more fans lining the entrance to the hotel than before. Only this time there was also more security.

You were quickly ushered through to the quieter reception area where Toto shared a look that said ‘I told you so’ before bidding a goodnight and heading his own way back. The elevator ride to the penthouse suite was silent and it wasn’t the comfortable silence you were used to. It grew heavier with each level and you were itching to get out of the confined space by the time the doors opened.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered as Charles pulled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I broke my promise,” he said as his shoulders sagged further, like he was moments from imploding on himself. “I swore to your father I would protect you.”

“Charles, I love you, but you can’t protect me from the world - no matter what my father thinks.” You crawled over the duvet and onto his lap so you could cup his face. “I don’t blame you and it is me who is going to be marrying you, not him.”

His brows pinched together. “I hadn’t even thought about children.”

“What?”

“After the wedding, having children - what that would be like in this environment. I hadn’t thought about it. I obviously knew it’s what I wanted for us down the line but now…it’s a little scary to think what might happen to them.”

“Char, there’s no rush. We don’t know what our future will look like in five years, or ten.” You stroked his cheeks and dipped your head forward to kiss his pouting lips. “Just focus on the here and now, baby. Forget what happened out there. In here, it’s just you and me, and a king sized bed that’s far too neatly made.”

“It is pretty neat.”

“So why don’t we mess it up?”

His eyes flicked to your legs draped over his, lingering on the bulky boot. “Amour?”

Your fingers were already running down his chest, reaching for the waistband of his trousers he had worn to dinner. “You won’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

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