#i don’t have a father lol but i will pretend like i do and take advantage of those deals | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsmochi · 8 months

Text

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

series masterlist | main masterlist

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

#SORRY THIS IS KINDA RUSHED UMMM #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut

1K notes · View notes

vettelsvee · 2 months

Text

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

965 notes · View notes

allurilove · 3 months

Note

If y/n gets pregnant with a yandere, what will their reaction be when they find out

(good luck with your math score)

lol tysm!

Yandere boyfriend:

“…but…” He comically gulped. Your boyfriend stood there unsure on what to do and say next. You saw a flash of confusion on his face as he tried to figure out the last time you two were close in an intimate way. He was silent for a while, his eyes slowly traveling down to his groin, and he swore he always used a condom.

“We live in a tiny apartment near campus, it’s always noisy because of the frat parties, and you still have school to finish.” He scratched his head. “How would we take care of the baby?”

“What would your parents think too?” Your boyfriend groaned, his head now in his hands and he gripped his hair. “Fuck, I don’t want them to hate me.”

Yandere stalker:

“Do you know who the father is?” He asked first and foremost. When you give him a look and put your hands on your hips, he scoffed. “Oh don’t act like you haven’t slept with your ex. I know what I saw.”

“Listen, you don’t have the best track record.” Your stalker rolled his eyes and his hand is now placed on your shoulder. “Regardless… I’ll help you out.”

He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapped around you gently, and he slightly swayed you back and forth. “Only if I can name the baby.”

Yandere husband:

He wasn’t surprised when you came clean that you’ve been pregnant for about two months. “Hm.” He pretended to be deep in thought, and his fingers stroke his chin. “I knew it. You were acting strange…asking me for cuddles and stealing my lounge shirts.”

“Do you want to keep the baby…?” Your husband asked you gently, and he took your hands into his. “I know three kids can be a lot… let’s just think about this alright?”

Yandere knight:

Yandere knights heart dropped and he sighed deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have given into his desires and take you that night. Gosh, if your parents found out… he would be executed immediately. Your knight touched his neck, his fingers felt his wild pulse, and he thought about how much he would miss having his head attached to his body.

He could imagine it now. A public execution in front of everyone, the people booing him and throwing rotten food at his body, while one of the guards leads him to the guillotine. Your knight gulped and he reluctantly nodded. “Thats… quite unfortunate.”

Yandere classmate:

He immediately looked displeased and he crossed his arms. “I hope you’re joking.” Your classmate took the pregnancy test from you, and his scrutinizing gaze was now on the plastic. “Can we pretend that two lines means that you aren’t pregnant?”

Yandere neighbor:

“Really?” He brightened up by your words and his hand is now pressed against your stomach. You weren’t showing, but he was excited at the thought of starting a family with you.

“You know… I’ve always wanted to have a family of my own and celebrate the holidays together! Awww, c’mere love.” He opened his arms.

Yandere best friend:

“Oh. OH!” He loudly gasped and he slapped the sandwich out of your hands. “That has deli meat! You can’t have that, right?”

He then sadly looked at the disassembled food on the ground, and he sheepishly chuckled when you glared at him. “Sorry, I was just trying to save my friend and the little one… please don’t hurt me.” Your friend joked and he started to run off when you took a step towards him.

Yandere blood bag:

That wasn’t much of a surprise to him considering how active you two were in the relationship. It was bound to happen anyways. He shoved his face with healthy foods, worked out extra hard, and made sure his body was in tip top shape. He exposed his neck to you, and he felt your fangs sink and break into his skin. You drank hungrily, and he had to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to complain, especially to someone that was pregnant, and he just took it.

“Ah- baby be careful.” He whined and he rubbed your waist. “I feel light headed…”

Yandere chaebol:

“About time.” He huffed and he got up from his chair. “I’ll start designing the baby’s room, hiring a night nurse, and all that. Just keep yourself healthy, and walk often.”

Yandere chaebol started to dial his mother on his cell phone. He referred to her as eomma, and he talked to her in his native language. He actually sounded like he was being respectful and polite, he then wrote down recipes that were perfect for pregnant women. For example, the seaweed soup was given to the woman after birth. He got up, walked past you, and he handed the list to his private chef.

#Allurilove asks #yandere oc #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere husband x you #yandere stalker x you #yandere neighbor x you #yandere knight x you #yandere classmate (yearbook guy) x you #yandere boyfriend x you #yandere best friend x you #yandere x vampire reader #yandere chaebol x you #yandere oc x you

412 notes · View notes

m0nsterqzzz · 5 months

Text

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar -

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack.

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives.

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

596 notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Text

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

#bodyguard!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #abby tlou2 smut

2K notes · View notes

zepskies · 8 months

Text

The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile.

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well.

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t.

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed.

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter.

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February.

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful.

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned.

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.)

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it.

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm.

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place.

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable.

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it.

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying.

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room.

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead.

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day.

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings.

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all.

Castiel fixed the problem.

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it.

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration.

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age.

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said.

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were.

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked.

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag.

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh.

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.”

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.”

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you.

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep.

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former.

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark.

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards.

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test.

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however.

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests.

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together.

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face.

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven.

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests.

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously.

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat.

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him.

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.”

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears.

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt.

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little.

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

#the old-fashioned way #bonus tracks #never say goodbye #bonus track 4 #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #soulmate au #soulmates #castiel #jody mills #bobby singer #zepskies writes

454 notes · View notes

ceilidho · 10 months

Note

Hi crazy Johnny with a single mam anon back because im insane and have brainrot and am seriously contemplating writing it bcus i feel compelled by the power of Christ (Johnny’s cock) to write something pervy and nasty and creepy but ultimately sweet but im also just braindumping and sharing bcus not enough johnny content floating around I fear so have to pull up my bootstraps and do it myself (this is so long ceil im so very sorry)

anyways so I think this is sooo much hotter if Johnny is either on a prolonged medical discharge or he’s been forced into retirement for one reason or another (because then can keep an eye on you lol) he and like this has been touched on before but he’s just got. nothing to fucking do. And holy hell he’s going crazy. He needs something to do. So his silly, terribly adjusted brain latches onto the poor single mam next door who DEFINITELY needs his help.

Im a sucker for forced codependency. You, who thinks you’re doing great on your own, versus ‘can’t handle this all on yer own, eh little lass?’ Johnny MacTavish. He’s SO fucking subtle about it. Commenting on how hard it must be to have to raise a baby all your own, and gods love you just look knackered here let me take the bairn for a bit. He comes round and makes little comments about your house being messy (disorganised, but not messy) and immediately starts ‘sympathising’ because you just mustn’t have time to clean up but it’s important to keep hazards out the way of the baby, here he’ll *help*.

Never questions your ability as a mother, god no, just slyly drops suggestions that you’re not coping as well as you thought. And it fucking NAGS at you. And eventually, you start going to Johnny more and more for help. I honestly think he would cause problems in your flat (fixable ones, like fucking up the electrics or messing around with the pipes but stuff he knows he can fix) so you either have to A. Move in with him temporarily or B. Have to ask him to fix them. Eventually just says that your landlords a cunt for letting you live in a shithole and insists you just move in with him permanently. You do (it’s not really up for debate).

He doesn’t use condoms. I’m sorry he just doesn’t, but he will TELL you that he does- especially the first time you have sex. You’re all worried because ‘oh god Johnny I’m not on birth control I just put it off after I had the baby and we didn’t use a condom-‘ and he’s immediately tucking you into his chest and stroking your hair and shushing you ‘divvint be daft lass, course i wrapped it up, stupid thing just broke. Did ye not realise? Must’ve been heat o’ the moment, don’t worry yer little heed about it alright? Johnny’s here.” and kisses you on your hair and lulls you into sleep. Adamantly denies whispering about how pretty you’re gonna look pregnant as if he’s trying to subliminal you into pregnancy. lol.

Will legally adopt your baby. Like he’ll suggest it, straight up. And you’re probably a bit taken aback because it’s only been six months but he is insistent. This is probably the catalyst for his ‘im the biological dad’ delusions. Once he’s down as the father he’s actually losing his mind a little. Can imagine Simon or Gaz popping round to check up on Johnny on their next leave and suddenly he has a family and they’re actually a little concerned because when Gaz makes a comment about the baby’s being cute Johnny’s like ‘Yeah we did a good job, didn’we lass?” and between the two of them there’s just silence because johnny this is not your baby but they can see that slightly deranged look in his eyes. Defo asks about all the heavy details of your pregnancy and labour and the first few months so he can pretend like he was actually there for it and will talk about it as if he were actually there (extra bonus points if Gaz actually pulls you aside in the kitchen and asks about Johnny’s behaviour and tells you to be careful LMAO).

So yeah anyways.

PLEASE WRITE THIS IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!! im screaming at that last bit i need this so bad please......i don't ask for much but i swear to god please write this for me. this idea was designed in a lab to inflict the maximum amount of psychic damage on me. please write this and i will happily beta/edit it for you if you need any help omg

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2

491 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 6 months

Note

i have a poly!marauders request

you know that tiktok audio

“want a beer?”

“he’s 4!”

“i don’t know what’s im supposed to with him”

imagine that with the readers younger sibling

hahaha I couldn't quite think of a fic for this but I have some opinions about it! (I love that audio though lol, I'm sure that's how my sister and brother who were 15 & 12 years old when I was born felt 😅)

James:

I saw someone argue that James would be terrible with kids because he was an only child, had no extended family near (i.e., no cousins, etc) and his parents were quite a bit older once they finally had him, meaning even his parent's friend's kids would be older than him

I disagree, actually I think this is the only take on the internet I'd make a fuss over 😅

James Potter himself is 8 years old - he has the humour of an 8 year old, he would be SO good at playing pretend, he'd have the ENERGY of an 8 year old???? He'd be SO good with kids are you kidding

the man is also so emotional and so sensitive that a kid crying over a booboo or dropping their ice cream would just get so much sympathy from him ugh I love James Potter

Sirius:

he's the only one who had a younger sibling and cousins growing up (though his cousins were older than him) so he technically has been around children

however, he didn't exactly have a happy childhood (understatement of the century), and even as kids they weren't allowed to act like kids

so I see him being enthusiastic to be around kids like "hey buddy! I love your Spiderman backpack, that's so cool!"

but the second the kids starts crying/gets upset/get's hurt he's like "oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit" and he'd be like "uhm...hey kid....uhm....stop that.. stop crying, stop - erm, do, do you like money? here, here's a five....that.. no? more? uhm, that's all the cash I got. Do you want nicotine gum? no, that's not right...hm...."

so unprepared to deal with kids if it's not all sunshine and rainbows lol

Remus:

then we have remus.....

in any of my kids fics, I have him pegged as like the BEST uncle or the most doting father

but he's the only one I could really imagine being like "erm....what....what do I do with this?"

he had to grow up SO fast after being bitten at only 4 years old. He didn't get to be a kid - he couldn't play with the village kids, he couldn't attend school before hogwarts

so...technically, I could totally see Remus being like "what am I supposed to talk to him about?" or "do i....do I take him to the pub? can four years olds even go to pubs? what do I talk about? does he now how to do his taxes???"

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders headcanons #ellecdc fics

227 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 1 year

Note

BBY YES. I’m a curvy girl too and MY GAWD boxer daddy dom losing a match or having a rough match and taking it out on the reader is just *chefs kiss* boxer Steve has NO issue lifting us plus size girlies and taking us against a wall 🤤 I just love your writing and I think you doing boxer Steve would be AMAZING

In Your Corner (Boxer Steve X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Boxer Steve invaded my dreams and now consumes my waking life. Fuck I need him. Lol.

I hope I did your ask justice!

Warnings: Daddy Dom Boxer Steve and Plus Size Sub Reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), SMUT and angst, hella dirty talk, degradation (slightly), spanking, choking, pinching, rough play for sure, there's no details of the fight but there are mentions of the aftermath, slight bullying at the beginning with Steve's friends. I think that's it.

Word Count: 4449

Steve’s eyes focused on his coach in front of him as he danced around the man preparing to swing. You absolutely loved watching him train right before a fight. He was always dedicated to the craft but he became more determined right before and the passion drove you wild.

When you both attended high school together, he always seemed like a douchebag with his “King Steve” status. You ran in a different circle, which was mostly any circle that wasn’t the popular kids. They always found ways of making fun of you because you had a little more meat on your bones than they did. You did take note at the time that Steve never taunted you with them but he never stopped them either.

“Fuck off, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey, would you just relax?! I just wanted to come apologize for Tommy and them. You’re not a pig and you’re definitely not ugly.”

“Wow, thanks for that. Now I can die happy. If you will excuse me, I have to go find my journal and put our initials together in hearts.”

As you turned to walk away, his hand shot out to grip your arm, tugging you back towards the concrete wall.

“Would you wait a minute! I’m…I’m trying to tell you something here. I…I’m not like them. I want to get to know you better.”

Your sarcastic laugh lights a fire in his eyes that you would later come to fall in love with.

“Steven, whether you like it or not, you are exactly like them. You laugh along with them and don’t stop them from being mean to people. You hang out with them and give them your time like they matter. I imagine your dad is the same with colleagues; pretending that he cares about stupid, menial bullshit just to fit in.”

His head ticked to the side at your comparison to his father as you stepped closer to his towering frame.

“You want to get to know me better? Become a real man and stand up for yourself. BE yourself.”

After that moment, he completely changed, disconnecting from his friends, and focusing on other things. You found him in the library a few times scanning certain books or at the computer looking up videos. After graduation, he disappeared before finally resurfacing a year later at a party one of your old high school friends was hosting.

At the time, you had a date on your arm but as soon as Steve entered the room it was like no one was there except for you and him. His smile was brighter and he had a lot more muscle than you remember him having especially in his arms. When his beautiful brown irises met yours, you knew it was all over. You’d do anything for him, all he had to do was ask. You tried playing coy, you really did; smirking salaciously in his direction or crossing and uncrossing your legs a bit wider than normal to display the red silk panties underneath.

When all he would do in return is tilt his head and grin at you, it riled you up, huffing as you stomped away to the bathroom. Before you could do anything about it, Steve followed you in, attaching his lips to yours as he quite literally ripped your panties of your body. You marveled at his strength as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter and sunk his admittedly large cock into your cunt.

“Oh my god, Steve. So—f-fuck—so deep.”

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy is just making a mess, you’re so wet.” He grabbed your hair and forced you look between your bodies. “Look at how you just fucking coat my dick.” Once he felt like you had gotten a good enough look, he pressed your face into his shoulder as he thrust his hips faster into yours. “That’s right, honey. Fucking—mmm—fucking hold on to Daddy while I make you cum.”

Your pussy clenched tighter around him at the name and he grunted at the feeling.

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl? God, you feel so fucking good. Cum on Daddy’s cock, Y/N.”

Your nails dug into the shirt on his back as the coil snapped and you whimpered into his chest.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Such a good girl coming hard like that.”, he murmured. One of his palms landed flat beside you as the other clung to your lower back as rolled his hips. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum inside you.”

Steve wasn’t asking; he was telling you what he was about to do and at that moment you really didn’t care. The hand on the counter flew up to grip your throat, pushing you back against the mirror as he roughly pumped his seed into your body.

When he released you from his hold and helped clean you up, you half expected him to leave you there alone in the bathroom, walking back out into the party as a satisfied man. Instead, he took your hand and guided you towards his BMW offering to buy you dinner.

That night he told you where he had been and what he had been up to. Steve left Hawkins to train and study boxing. You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing this was the same kid who lost almost every fight in school. He smirked in your direction as if he could read your mind and invited you to his next fight which was just outside of town.

Watching him up there as he fought was a unique experience to be sure. He changed before your eyes into this more confident, determined man as he focused on his opponent and swung his arms. After winning, you brought him back to your apartment where you two barely even made it in the door before you were climbing on top of him.

“Can I ask you something?”, you asked and he answered with a soft but exhausted hm. “What triggered this? What made you say, ‘I’m going to leave Hawkins and get hit in the face for a living’?”

Steve rolled onto his side to face you as he reached out to brush some stray hair out of your face.

“Short answer…you.”

“And the long answer?”

“When you compared me to my dad and talked about me trying to impress those other assholes, it triggered something in me. I definitely don’t want to become my dad and I hated the way you looked at me when you said I was just like those other kids. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I did some research and came across boxing. Y/N, you have no idea how liberating it was for me when I threw that first punch and hit the bag in front of me.”

Your fingers tenderly caressed his face as his own hand slid down your back to bring you closer to him.

“I always thought about you. I told myself whenever I came back here my first goal was to find you and FINALLY get to know you better.”, he chuckled.

You smiled as you blushed as his words. “What if I had been with someone!?”

“Pfft. Then I would fight him.” Steve leaned back and pretended to box the air making you laugh.

“Or what if I saw you and I was like ‘Ew. Look at the god-awful Steve Harrington! With the muscles and the pretty hair. Ugh!” His lips cut you off mid-cackled as he rolled his body on top of yours.

“Then I’d fight for you. You’re mine, pretty girl.” The way his eyes were penetrating yours had you shiver at the intensity. His face hovered as his nose grazed the tip of your own. “Can you say it for me, honey?”, he whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he trailed kisses down to your neck.

“I belong to you.”, you moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Mmm…you belong to who, baby girl?”

“I belong to Daddy.”

Three years had passed since then and you couldn’t be happier or prouder of everything Steve had accomplished. Next Friday was supposed to be a big fight. If he won, it would lead to more eyes on him which in turn would lead to more revenue.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing today, angel.”

“I’m good, Jimmy. How are you?”, you beam at his coach.

“Oh, never better, baby. Never better.” As you climb up the ropes to hang over the ring, Steve hastily runs over to you as he pulls off one of his gloves and helps you into the area. “Do you want some gloves, missy? Give Steve here some real competition.”

You giggle as your boyfriend tilts your head up for a kiss. “God, no. He’d knock me out in a second.”

“What’s the matter, honey? Scared?”, Steve teases.

You playfully glare at him as Jimmy brings you some gloves that are your size and places you across from him. You both do the gloved fist bump you’ve seen him do with opponents numerous times and take your stance.

Steve smirks as you circle around each other and after a few moments you take your first swing that he swiftly blocks. Both your moves at each other are light and joking, not in any way meant to harm.

“That’s good, baby girl. You have to twist your arm a bit more.” You concentrate as he shows you the move and once you follow through, he claps his gloves together making you smile with pride. “That’s my girl!”

You grin as you fall into his chest and he pretends to fall over bringing you down with him.

“Let’s hope you do better than that on Friday, yeah?”, Jimmy asks as Steve nods. “Alright, I’m out of here. Harrington, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for our last training session and talk strategy for the fight, alright?”

“Thanks, Jim!”

“You are…disgustingly sweaty.”

Steve turns his attention back to you as you lean forward to grab his wrists and remove his gloves.

“Yet you’re still on top of me.”

“I’m doing it to hide the gigantic erection in your shorts right now.”, you whisper.

“Hey, it’s not my fault when you walk into the room, I get all hot and bothered.” Once his hands are free, he rests one on your thigh as the other comes up to caress your cheek. “Did you have a good day today?”

“I did. My boss was only half an idiot today.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sure.” You grin leaning down so your lips are just above his own. “I can handle one stupid, ignorant man.”

“I know you can, sweetheart. I just hate the way he talks to you. He better hope he doesn’t say any bullshit in front of me.”

“Oh, big tough Daddy. I like it.”

Steve smiles as his hand glides to the back of your neck and roughly brings your face closer to his. “You know you love when Daddy takes care of you.”

You bite your bottom lip as he begins grinding hips up against your own.

“Do you wanna take care of Daddy while he takes a shower? Say it.”, he commands when you nod your head.

“I want to take care of you. Please, Daddy. Let me help you relax.”

His grin grows as you both rise to your feet and he helps you down from the ring. As soon as his feet touch the floor, he lifts you into his arms, and you giggle as he carries you into the empty locker room.

############

The night of the fight came and Steve was more than ready. You stayed by his side until exactly an hour before he was meant to exit to the ring, kissing his lips before hugging him tightly to you.

“Good luck, baby. You got this.”

He curtly nodded as you gave him one last comforting smile. You understood he had a process and this was usually how he was before a fight. He was zoned in and prepared, ready to take on the world.

As the ushers walked you to your seat in the front, you froze when you saw who was sitting beside you.

“Hey, Y/N! How are you, sweetheart?”, Mrs. Harrington cooed as she got to her feet to give you a hug.

“I’m…I’m good. What are you two doing here?”

“This is a big fight, right? I don’t know why my son didn’t invite us. ‘You can watch it on TV he says.’”, Mr. Harrington rolls his eyes.

As the announcer began to speak, you panickily looked around, trying to figure out what you should do. He never had his phone on him on nights like this and the match was about to start so you couldn’t go back to the locker room.

Please don’t let him notice them.

Steve entered the ring with his usual bout of confidence that made you swoon. You continued to pray as you watched them introduce him and rattle off some of his stats. His eyes found yours for a moment before he looked beside you. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when you watched this version of him and the high school version have their own fight within his beautiful, brown orbs as they noticed his father.

When his focus shifted back to you, you silently mouthed that you loved him, and again he nodded before the match finally began.

***

Steve angrily stalked into the apartment you two shared and headed for the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and filling it with the hardest liquor there was. Your eyes carefully watched him as he moved about, finally stomping outside onto the patio, and lighting a cigarette.

Nights after a lost match were always the worst, you never knew how he was going to behave. Sometimes he would do like he had just done and sit outside for hours smoking and drinking till he passed out on the furniture. Other times, he would take that anger out on you and you allowed it. You allowed him to be rough with you in bed till you both were fully spent. Even when he was upset, he needed to make you feel good to.

More than anything you just hated how hard he was on himself. He always gave 110% in everything he did but it wasn’t enough for him. If he lost at something he was a failure and there was nothing you could say or do to make him feel otherwise.

Normally, you left him to his thoughts but you couldn’t do that tonight. You knew he was in a lot of pain, not just physically but emotionally as well. Slowly, you stepped outside and tiptoed to the other chair that was next to him.

Steve was leaning back lazily with his legs stretched all the way out as he held the cold glass to the bandage just above his eye. Occasionally, he brought the cigarette to his busted lip before dangling it back over the arm of the patio chair.

“Baby…”

“Go away, Y/N.”

You heavily exhale as you try again. “Sweetheart, you did really well. Don’t let your dad or anyone else make you feel like you didn’t do a good job.” As you spoke, he casually got up, tossing his cigarette, and walked back inside. “There will be other fights like this one.”

“Y/N, I’m only going to say it one more time. Get…away…from…me.”

“No.” His head leaned to the side at your answer. “Baby, everything’s going to be okay.”

Steve sarcastically chuckled, taking another sip of his drink before abruptly raising his arm and violently throwing his glass against the adjacent wall.

“You wanna play, baby girl. Let’s play. First off, fuck you. Don’t stand there and pretend like you understand anything when it comes to boxing or my job, alright? You are my girlfriend not my coach or my manager. Your job is to stand by my side and shut the fuck up while I do what I need to do.”

Oh, that’s how he wants to play tonight? He had just entered another ring and you were the challenger. He needed to spar with you and he knew you were a worthy opponent. You knew how to challenge him and you didn’t take his attitude or temper lying down. He needed you to put him in his place so he could properly put you in yours.

“Secondly, we needed this fucking win tonight. You like this apartment, the pool, that fucking outfit you’re wearing? All of that cost money, Y/N.”

“I see…so this is all my fault? I’m the one that wants expensive things apparently? I’m not some gold-digging trophy wife, Steve. I work and I help pay for things around here. I have never once asked you to buy me anything extravagant because I don’t fucking need it. And yes, I am your girlfriend but I actually fucking listen to you when you talk. You will have more fights. If you wanted a girl who would be silent and just swipe your credit card, you should have looked somewhere else!”

He fumed as you yelled at him, his fists clenching by his side as he listened and his angry eyes never leaving yours. You pointed your finger in his face as you stepped closer to him.

“You can blame me all you want, Steve Harrington, but you needed to win that fight for you and your fucking ego.”

“Take off your dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said…take off your dress. You don’t need these nice things anymore? That’s fine. I can return that and the other fancy things I bought you. Tomorrow when I wake up, I can go look for one of those studio apartments for you so you can move in there.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t need you to help me look. I can find a new Daddy on my own who won’t act like a fucking baby.”

There it is. That particular look in his eyes that tells you he’s in the right headspace. He may not look like he’s in control to any outsider looking in but you’ve been in love with his man for three years. You knew.

You two stared at each other for a few seconds before you turned and bolted to the bedroom. You could hear him hot on your tail before he practically tackled you onto the bed. Your hands tried to push against him but he was too strong, straddling your waist as he pinned your wrists to the mattress.

“You want to find a new Daddy? HUH?!”, he screamed in your face. “You think someone else can take care of you as well as I have?” Steve shifted your hands so he could hold them with one of his own he climbed off you and reached under your dress to bring down your panties. A couple of his fingers roughly slid into your core as he set a brutal pace.

“Little girl always talks a big game but when we get down to it, you’re always still so fucking wet for me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, still trying to fight against hold but not wanting him to let go. You buck your hips but it just pushes him to be rougher as he curls his fingers inside of you. “There you go, baby. That’s the spot right there, right? Daddy knows. I know every fucking inch of your body and how to please you. You think anyone else can make you cum like I do?”

His palm released your wrists and quickly slid down your throat, gripping it just so between his thick fingers as he watched your eyes roll back. Your hands feebly reach for anything they can, settling on taking hold of his knee. Steve always made sure to have some part of his body near you that way if you couldn’t speak but felt like you needed to tap out you could.

Just like with his boxing, he had rules and regimens in bed. He always wanted you to feel safe and gave you strict guidelines for how to get his attention should you need to. Three taps meant stop but right now all you were doing was grounding yourself as you focused on your own high.

You whimpered, digging your nails into his skin as you came. While you laid there panting, he climbed over your limp frame and yanked off your dress. With hooded eyes you watched as he removed his clothes before tugging you to the edge of the mattress like a ragdoll and flipping you onto your stomach.

His strength always amazed (and intimated) you. Being a bigger woman, you weren’t exactly light and all the men in your past never even bothered to try lifting you into their arms. When Steve did it that first night you were together, you were awe struck. More than anything, you swooned at the fact that he didn’t even hesitate; he just did it knowing he could.

The first time you questioned him about it he looked at you like you were speaking gibberish.

“Honey, you’re not heavy.”

“Uh oh, I think you’ve been hit one too many times. You’re going blind.”, you giggle.

Steve grinned slightly before his face got serious. “Y/N, just because past relationships couldn’t handle a beautiful woman like you doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

“I know. I just…no one’s ever even bothered to try and lift me let alone everything else we do.”

He stepped forward and lifted your chin with his fingers. “You have a real man now, baby. You and your curves don’t scare me.”

You smile, lifting up on your toes to kiss his lips. “You don’t scare me either.”

His rough, calloused hands lifted your hips and spread your ass cheeks apart before his palm came down hard as he spanked you. You moaned when you felt him spit into your cunt before aggressively breaching your entrance with his cock.

“Daddy!”

Steve’s arm came into view beside you as you felt him hover over you and begin rolling his hips.

“You want to act like a fucking brat, I can…I can treat you like one.”, he grunted. “No more fucking dinners, fa-fancy clothes, fucking nothing! You—f-fuck—can just be Daddy’s toy. Huh? At least until you find your new Daddy who’s not a fucking baby.”

His fingers gripped your hair as he stood up and thrust into you so hard the bed shook underneath you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he continually hit all the right places inside of you, overwhelming your senses. Tears began streaking your face as you felt the warmth build in your tummy again. He really was the only man that knew how to satisfy you.

He noticed your lips moving but couldn’t hear what you were saying. Steve’s palm smacked your ass as he yanked you to your knees till your back was against his now sweaty chest.

“What’s the rule?”, he growled “If you’re talking I…I need to fucking hear you. What were you saying?” When you don’t answer, he stops pumping into you before reaching down to pinch your clit between his fingers making you whine and try to pull away from him. “Answer me, little girl.”

Your head lazily falls back on his shoulder as you continue to cry. The hand that was in your hair loops around to your chin, turning your lips to his as he softly placed a kiss on them.

“I love…you… Just want…you.”, you panted out as best you could.

Steve released your nub from his grasp and wrapped his arm around you stomach as he began thrusting into you again.

“Cum, baby. Cum for Daddy.” You laid your arms over his own, clinging to him as your body spasmed and you did as he commanded. “That’s my girl. Fuck… my beautiful girl.”

As he chased his high, you continued to try and whisper things in his ear.

“MY…Daddy. No one could…make me…feel this good. I’m…oh my god… so proud of you, baby. Please…cum, Daddy. I need…need it.”

His hips began to sputter and he grips you tightly as he roughly pumps his release inside of you. You both were still like that for a while, trying to catch your breath as he held you.

“I’m going to pull out now, ok?”, he whispered.

“Okay, Daddy.”

You winced as he cooed softly, placing feathery light kisses on your skin as he praised you. He detached from you for moment; long enough for you to hear the shower turn on before he was back by your side and lifting you into his arms.

Steve wasted no time taking care of you as he cleaned your body and washed your hair.

“I DO listen to you when you talk. One of the things I love about you is how passionate you about boxing. I remember in school you always seemed like, I don’t know, you were coasting by. On our first date, you told me about the maneuvers and explained things to me.”, you smile as you continued. “Your hands were moving a mile a minute and your eyes lit up. It was amazing.”

His fingers lightly gripped your shoulders as he turned you to face him. “I may not know everything about it, Steve, but I know you. I know there will be another fight and I know you’re going to win because you are the most dedicated man I’ve ever met. You’re not going to stop until you get where you want to be.”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and said all that stuff. I don’t really feel that way. I was just upset.”

“I know, baby.”

After turning off the water, he quickly grabs a towel, drying you both and guiding you back to bed. Steve grabs his boxers and throws one of his big, baggy shirts over your head making you laugh.

“I love that you speak your mind and challenge me. Hell, if you hadn’t done that in school, I never would have gotten into boxing.”

“I’m so proud of you, Steve. I really am. Whether you win or lose, buy me fancy things or give me gifts from the dollar store…” Your smile grows as he laughs and kneels down in front of you, laying his head on your thighs as you gently pet his head. “I’m always going to be in your corner.”

#boxer!Steve Harrington #dom!steve harrington #daddy steve #steve x plus size reader #steve x reader #brat reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #joe keery smut #stranger things #fan fiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #daddy steve harrington #plus size reader #Steve Harrington ask

1K notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 9 months

Note

Can I please request a Dom!Theon with Sub!F reader smut!! Like the scene with Theon and Yara on the horse but continued later that night🥵 I love your writing!!

Theon Greyjoy*Give it Back

Pairing: Theon x f!reader

Word count: 1330

Warnings: teasing, enemies to lovers, make out, f! receiving oral, smut, 18+

A/n: this does deviate from your request a bit but I just couldn’t figure out how I wanted to do it that way so hope this dom theon works instead lol

Masterlist Here

You had arrived at Winterfell a couple of weeks ago with your family while they were conducting business with the Starks, but business was far from your mind. For some reason your mind had been taken over by some cocky, good for nothing, ridiculous, mean, pompous, gorgeous boy who somehow was so attractive despite his arrogance. You say this since the first time you met Theon, he tried to flex on who his father was and who he was and how great he was. You were half tempted to punch him in his very kissable face.

Instead, you decided to try ignoring him to curb your stares. “Look who it is,” Theon’s voice snapped you from your peace. You were sat at a table in the courtyard reading a book when you felt Theon’s arm fall over your shoulders, “Little lady sunshine,”

“Hello Greyjoy,” you said, refusing to take your eyes off your book.

“Leave off,” Robb laughed as he pulled Theon from you and moved to sit beside you. Theon quickly moved to sit across from you with Jon beside him. the three of them continued their conversation while you read, trying to ignore them all when suddenly.

“Hey!” Theon snatched your book. “Give it back!”

“Or what?” Theon snorted, “You’ll make me? I’d like to see you try,”

“Oh really?” you asked, standing up and pretending to be tough though you new it was a façade, “Give me it back,” you instructed again holding your hand out.

Theon laughed as he stood up, holding it out however just as you reached out, he snatched it back, “Or what?”

You sighed as you stepped over the bench and went to leave, “You are an ass Greyjoy,”

“Cmon,” he called after you. “Was only joking,”

You however ignored him as you rushed inside and decided to walk back to your room however you heard footsteps following you, “Hey wait!” you ignored Theon’s calls as you walked up the stairs with him coming closer to you. “Cmon I was only teasing,”

You turned round the corner heading to your chambers when you felt Theon grab your wrist, “Here you can have it back,” he said, holding the book out to you again.

This time you paused, sizing him up before suddenly trying to grab it but instead he just held it up out of your reach. You angrily sighed and went to storm down the corridor but Theon quickly caught back up, grabbing your wrist and turning you till your back was against the wall and he was stood in front of you, “You’re a feisty one,” he said and you hated the fact you were getting turned on by this asshole.

“Are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Theon smirked, stepping closer to you, “Well I could. If you asked nicely,”

“I’m talking about the book,”

“So am I,” he teased, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Though we both know you want something else from me,” his lips across your cheeks till they hovered over your lips, “Go on. Tell me to go away and I will. Unless you don’t want me to that is,”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat then suddenly your lips moved up as if with a mind on their own as they pressed against his. Theon was shocked at first but soon melted into the kiss. His hand moved to hold himself up against the wall while yours moved to his shoulder, trailing down his arm then…

“Hey!” Theon protested as you snatched the book and ran down the corridor giggling. You managed to open your chamber door but as you went to shut it Theon held the door open, “You took my book,”

“It’s my book,”

“Says who?”

“Tells me,”

“Oh yeah?” he said, pushing his way into your room not that you were trying very hard to stop him, “Why’d you kiss me?” His question however caught you off guard as you tried to stutter a reply, but he continued speaking cutting you off, “If I didn’t know any better id say you like when I tease you. think I don’t notice it when you blush?”

“I don’t blush,” you mumbled, realising the door was shut.

Theon laughed, raising an eyebrow, “No you do. I see you do it. I see that cute little face of yours get all embarrassed when I rile you up,”

“You’re an ass,” you tried to say but he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest making you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his eyes searching your face. You tried to avoid his gaze, but he used a finger to make you face him, “I asked you a question. Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to show you how a Greyjoy does it?” he asked, his hot breath fanning your face.

Your lips really must have a mind of their own cause they were suddenly pressed to his again. You dropped the book, no longer caring about it as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue ran over your bottom lip. When you didn’t open his hand suddenly moved to squeeze your ass. You gasped into the kiss and Theon took the opportunity.

Suddenly you felt him walking you towards the bed. Your knees hit the back of the frame and Theon only broke the kiss to push you to fall on your back on the bed. “What are you- “you tried to ask as he sunk to his knees in front of you, pulling you to the edge of the bed, “Theon- “

“Its my lord to you,” he instructed as he pushed up your skirts, “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he asked, his hands wandering up your thighs, “Me in your chambers like a dirty little secret? Teasing you, touching you, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull?” he said before suddenly nipping your thighs making you gasp, “I asked a question,” he said with a pointed look.

“Yes, my lord,” you said though it was half a whimper when his head dipped down and you could suddenly feel his hot breath fanning your wet cunt, “Please Theon-I mean my lord. Please just fuck do something please,”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned, kissing your inner thigh, “Love it when you beg for me. Knew you were dirty, so I did. fucking love, it,” he said, his mouth moving further up till he placed a kiss to your clit making you moan.

He took this as encouragement however as his lips moved to lick over your clit, your hand shooting out to grab his hair as he did so. His tongue began to work wonders, massaging your bundle of nerves before moving down to your hole. You gasped when you felt it sink in, your legs moved to rest on his shoulders. Theon’s hands moved to grab your thighs, his fingernails sinking into your flesh as his nose began to nuzzle against your clit.

You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that came from you especially not with a knot quickly tightening in your stomach. As you felt yourself come closer to the edge Theon moaned against your cunt, vibrations shooting down your spine as you felt your body tighten before you finally reached your peak while tugging on his curls. “Oh fuck, Theon,” you moaned, his tongue not stopping till you fell limp on the bed.

You were both panting as he came up for air with a grin on his now wet face, “So much for hating me,” he chuckled as he moved to lay on the bed beside you. he brushed the hair out your face as his lips moved to hover over yours, “Now where were we?”

Taglist Sign Up Here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @justtilly

Game of thrones taglist: @mysunflowerspace @xyinparadise @nyotamalfoy @asgards-princess-of-mischief

284 notes · View notes

garbinge · 2 months

Text

EVERYTHING (2/?)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader // Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Part 2 to One in a Million. Your reminisce about your past while your brother walks you home from The Hard Deck, all while you figure out what your future holds. When you head to base the next day, you run into a new friend, a few times and you get familiar really quickly. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Fluff. Mentions of parental death (both characters), mentions of reader being adopted, small mention of saying goodbye to a pet, no use of Y/N. Falling for someone, quickly. Insinuates at sexual situations between scenes. Reader is Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia's sister. Took some liberties like giving Rooster a tattoo lol. A/N: These two live in my brain rent free.

“How do you know Rooster?” Mickey was asking you as you strolled on the sidewalk. The sun had gone down, you were buzzed from the handful of beers you shared with Rooster, then Rooster and your brother, and then just your brother through the night. Your walk home was only minutes from the bar, but you both were taking your time walking. The sounds of the waves behind you, muffled by the bar patrons, by the cars driving by, tourists on bikes. It all felt like home and you wanted to soak in every second of it.

“Apparently he’s my boyfriend.” With a chuckle you looked down and kicked a rock, passing it to your brother who stopped it with his foot as he also stopped in his steps.

“Come again?” His eyebrows were raised, a mix of confusion and concern in his tone and also plastered on his face.

“Relax. It’s a joke. I just met ‘em tonight. He saved me from some egotistical asshole.”

“So you met Hangman.” A smile grew on his face and he tossed the rock back to you. It was something the two of you did growing up, finding something to do when there was nothing to do.

“Man with a track record I see.” You tossed the rock a few more times yourself before passing it back to Mickey, all while you both kept walking home. “Bradley pretended to be my boyfriend, then when Hangman left, we just started talking.” You shrugged.

Mickey nodded, he wasn’t the type to tell you what to do, not only because it wasn’t his style but also because he knew you wouldn’t listen. He just liked having the information, all the pieces to the puzzle, that’s how he always was. It was how he got the call sign Fanboy. He knew anything and everything about fighter pilots, about Top Gun, about F-18s and honestly any other plane in the naval aviation hangars. He learned from your father, but the interest to keep learning was all him.

“How long you staying for?” Now he was kicking the rock back and forth with his feet before he bent down and picked it up, tossing up and down into his palm.

“Not sure. I wrapped up my last article for The Post and now I’m focusing on the book.”

“And home is where you can write the book.” Mickey understood, and if anything he would have done anything to help you out and support you, especially with this. “You still planning to write about Dad?”

“Yea, but I don’t know. I might write more about my journey, you know? I’ve been thinking about a lot of it lately.” With a deep breath, you felt the alcohol starting to fade as the topic got a bit more serious between you two.

“About being adopted?” He tossed the rock over so it was now your turn to catch it.

“Yea, but also just all the resilience and love I’ve seen throughout my life.” You started to think through how you wanted to tell this story, was it fiction, was it a memoir, was it a mix of it all? “Our lives were so unique, you know?”

“Oh trust me, I know.” He laughed as you both stepped in front of your house, turning to look at it as you stood in the driveway.

Memories of you as kids in the front yard chasing each other with water guns, sitting in the driveway with two of your dogs standing guard over the three of you, your dad picking each one of you up and flying you through the yard. Images of your eldest brother climbing down the trellis as he snuck out to some party with some girl, your younger brother laying in his bed pretending to be him until he was back. One of your favorite memories was the block parties that were always held here, hundreds of military officers would show up, you’d get lost in the crowd but then found by a kicking rock from one of your brothers, or a dog guiding you through the crowds. They all weren’t good memories though, as you looked at the front door, you remember taking Shadow out for the last time, draping the blanket over him in the trunk wishing him to get better. The black town car pulling up on the street and the uniform men informing you of your father’s death. Leaving through that same door for the funeral, your brother in his own uniform, your youngest brother in a suit for probably the first and only time. Your mind flashed back to the first time you stood where you are now. A child services agent, helping you out of the car at 5 years old, your teddy bear in one hand and pretty empty backpack in the other as you stared at what was about to be your life, your father was the first one to come out and greet you. He had his uniform on and you remember being terrified, but he knelt down in front of you and smiled, offering you his hand to shake and it was like every fiber of fear vanished in seconds. 20 years later, you remember that same feeling of fear reentering your body when they said he had died.

“Everytime I’m here it’s so…much.”

Mickey let out a sigh, as he nodded in agreement. “It’s why I stay on base when I’m here. Only come here when I’m too lit to drive back.”

“So every night?” You felt his hand reach up and push you slightly before you used his arm as a way to balance yourself and then brought yourself closer to him in a sideways hug. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” He tossed his arm over your shoulder and rested his head over yours.

____________

You should’ve seen if your brother could have brought you on base, now you were trying to search your bag for some credentials that could get you through the gates. You had plenty, being a writer and journalist you collected them like someone would stamps or coins.

“Fuck.” You mumbled as you searched your bag coming up with event passes and useless press badges. “Really could’ve used that white house press pass right about now.”

“Need help?” The familiar voice came up from behind you and startled you.

“Was looking for my badge, trying to get on base.”

“Badge?” Rooster was extending his hand to help bring you into a standing position, you had made the patch of grass right outside the gate your own bag search area.

“Uhm, yea.” You were knocking grass off your clothes and grabbing the couple things on the ground before you looked up and realized who you were talking to. Part of you knew, even though you had only met him once but now you were really taking him in. He had on his flight suit, sunglasses perched on his nose and a large smile as he tried to understand what was going on.

After tossing your bag over your shoulder, you exhaled and laughed. “I’m uh, journalist–a writer. I have press badges.”

“What do you write?” His arms crossed curious to learn more about you.

“A column in the post. It was called Life in Brief. It was sort of memoirs–briefings on people I’d meet traveling around the world.”

“And now you’re going to write one about one of us.” Rooster was bending down and picking up your notebook which was still on the ground.

As he handed it back to you, you smiled curtly to thank him before tossing it back in your bag, “I, uh, don’t write them anymore. My last one got printed a month ago, I’m working on something new.”

“Something new, huh?” His arms were crossed and he separated his feet slightly as he questioned you. Moving his left hand up to push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, he waited for your reply.

“Yep. Something new. But I don’t think I’ll be getting on base today. I meant to ask Mickey last night but I forgot and I don’t have my white house badge to get me through.”

“White house badge? Fancy!” He called out as he grabbed your bag from your shoulder and started walking past the gate with it. “Hey Lance, bring a friend for free day, alright?” He pointed back to you. With a light jog, you were trying to catch up to him, stopping at the gate where the guard just buzzed you in and waved his hand for you to enter.

When you thanked him, you continued to catch up to Rooster. “Bag please?” He had it raised above his head and lowered it at your words. “Thank you.”

“Who's on your list to talk to?” He asked as you were looking around at the hangars around you, the buildings, it had been years since you set foot on this base.

“Don’t have a list.” You answered, distracted by it all.

“Mission without a plan. That’s like the first rule: all missions have plans, multiple plans if anything.”

“I’m not really a girl with a mission, Rooster. Never have been.” It was then that your head bounced off his chest, he had turned around and stopped walking while you were looking around, causing you to have run into him.

“Maybe I can help with that?”

“Plan to be my ghostwriter, Rooster?” You rubbed your head where you ran into him.

“Could be one of the plans.” He teased you, it was then that you saw Hondo starting to walk on the concrete out of one of the hangars.

“Let’s keep that on the back burner, Bradley.” You tapped his chest as you started to take a couple steps towards Hondo. “Hey, uh, thanks for getting me in, I owe you!” You were now yelling as you said it, your hand pointing at him but your mind focused on catching the man who was best friends with your father.

_________

Before you knew it the day was over and the stars had filled the sky. Ending your day of research, if you could even call it that, on the beach was your way of trying to gather your thoughts. You were still trying to figure out what you were going to write, how you were going to write it. Spending the day talking to people you grew up with, friends of your father, being back in a groove of things you haven’t been in so long was giving you a lot of ideas, but nothing felt right. You had spent the last few years of your career writing about other people, their stories, their grief, their happiness, their accomplishments, their regrets. Writing about your father’s, your brother’s, this life, should have been just like that.

“Talk to me, Dad.” You whispered as your toes dug into the sand and your head looked up to the sky. Searching for any sign of what to do. It felt like you were in a new chapter of your life, and this was one that had no ties to your previous one, which bothered you. It was the first time you were doing something that your dad wasn’t involved in. He had been there when you graduated college with your degree in journalism, started your internship which led to your column, but now, this was new. You felt alone.

There was commotion behind you, you were sitting on the beach in front of The Hard Deck so it wasn’t unusual. But this time, unbeknownst to you the commotion was Rooster with a few of his friends. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” He was tapping his friends backs and he caught you sitting on the beach, a smile growing on his face. Before he even knew it, he was heading over to you and plopping down next to you in the sand. “So you gonna tell me about this project you’re working on?”

“That would require me actually knowing what the project is myself.” Your hands were wrapped around your knees.

Rooster mimicked your position, but his arms resting on his knees versus being wrapped around them. “That what you’re doing out here, figuring it out?”

“Thinking about figuring it out.” You corrected him with a smirk.

“Maybe if you don’t think it’ll come to you.” He offered a suggestion, his shoulders and arms raising slightly as he said it, his mustache moving downward as he frowned.

“Don’t think. Brilliant advice, Bradley.”

“Do I still have more questions?”

“Why?” You were wondering what he wanted to know.

“Just wanna know more about you.” Another shrug came from his shoulders.

Your lips curved at his sentence and you looked over at him, resting your head on your knees and the tops of your arms. “It’s a book.”

He was about to question you, the words what’s a book were about to come back from his mouth when it hit him.

“So there is a plan.”

“That’s all I got. Don’t think I’d call it a plan yet.”

“I read some of your columns.” It was blunt coming out of his mouth, like he almost wasn’t in control of saying it or planned of saying it himself.

That got your attention, your eyes were glued on his waiting for him to continue that thought with something more.

“Before I knew they were yours, I’d read them back when I was in the Academy, when we weren’t allowed to have phones, a lot of us started reading the papers every morning.”

“It got published digitally, too.” You weren’t living under a rock to know that the papers were a dying form of journalism.

You were not expecting the next thing he said. “Snippets on instagram, too.” When you looked at him with wide eyes, he laughed. “I enjoyed them, followed The Post to keep up with them when I got my phone back. “The one about the painter from Times Square, that’s the one that I read first and remember. Where the guy started painting the rocks in Central Park they were all covered in sunlight and by the time he was finishing up they were all shadowy.”

“He had to decide how he wanted to remember them.” You knew exactly which memoir he was talking about. “Travis.” You kept your head on your knees and closed your eyes.

“It was really powerful stuff, the idea that even with the things we can’t control– time passing, the sun setting, we still have the power of choice.”

“Why don’t you tell me about you, Bradley?” Your eyes opened and you looked into his eyes.

“What do you wanna know?” He dropped his head down similarly to yours but in a bit of a teasing way.

“Everything.” It was insane that you had known this man for barely two days and your conversation yesterday of getting to know each other was flirtatious and now it was borderline pining.

______

The pining didn’t last long. You were now naked in bed with him. His arm was around your shoulder and resting on your back as you head laid on his bare chest.

“Is this how you get the scoop on all your features?” He joked and pulled you back in closer to him when you pushed him away teasingly.

“You barely told me anything. I specifically asked for everything.” Your hand started to play with the tattoo on his chest, outlining it with your finger.

“Tribute for my dad.” He was looking at the ceiling as he said it, feeling your light touch outline the goose silhouette that was next to the F-18 fighter jet silhouette.

You nodded, having figured so much. “Tell me about him.”

“I was young when he passed. Don’t remember much.” It was obvious he was lying, but you weren’t going to pry or try and pull it out of him. And you didn’t need to because he was closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Sorry, reflex.”

“You don’t have to share. I know how hard it can be thinking about them.”

“He was funny, always knew how to lighten the mood. He played piano, pretty fucking good too.” He laughed almost like he still was shocked at the thought. “He loved my mom fiercely. Loved me fiercely.”

You knew that well, your dad was the same exact way. “When did you decide you were going to enlist?”

“I couldn’t tell you, it just was something that I feel like I always knew.” His fingers were caressing your collar bone.

“Mickey was the same way.” You let out a chuckle remembering no time where your eldest brother wasn’t obsessed with aviation.

“They don’t call him Fanboy for nothing.” Rooster was laughing along with you. “This your room?” He was looking around but there was a lack of personality in the space.

“Yea.” You agreed with him.

“Whole lot of nothing.” His eyes looked over the bare walls, just the old light yellow paint on the walls, there were nail holes, furniture scuffs, but nothing besides the bed, sheets, dresser and walls.

“I took it all down when my dad died.”

“Does it feel lighter?” He was staring at the ceiling as the question was asked.

You frowned and looked over at him. Feeling the shift in your position he looked back down at you and gave you a seeing smile. “I know what it’s like to live with the weight of their memory.”

“Doesn’t feel lighter.” You settled back into the crook of his shoulder.

“Damn.” It was whispered just above your head. “Was hoping this might’ve been the secret.”

You let out a little chuckle. “You hungry?” Rolling over you went to grab your clothes to put them back on, all while Rooster let out a groan in complaint as you moved away from him. “Come on,” you threw his jeans over at him, “kitchen.”

As you both moved down the stairs together, he saw the frames of your family on the wall and stopped when he saw some of your columns framed.

“This is the Travis column.” He was stopped on the landing and you were already on the ground level. His face was turning in a smile as he pointed to the frame.

“It was one of my dad’s favorites.” You remembered when he called you to tell you he was framing it and putting it on the wall, your eyes smiling at the memory. “Come on, Rooster. Let me cook you breakfast.”

“It’s 10:30?” He questioned as he skipped down the steps to catch up to you.

______

Sitting on the island, you stared at Rooster who was using his fork as a knife to cut a piece of the pancake off. “Good, right?” Your eyebrows raised and you went back to picking off your plate.

“Phenomenal.” He spoke with his mouth full.

“So what haven’t you told me, Rooster?” You picked up a few scrambled egg pieces and plopped them in your mouth.

“Hmm, I’m a Cancer, my favorite color’s yellow, I play piano, I own a lot of movies–bootlegs to be honest, I guess you could say I’ve collected them over the years, my favorite food is Pho, but I’m strongly considering changing that to these pancakes.” His mouth was full as he spoke so his words were muffled but you understood them perfectly. “Your turn.”

You gave him your zodiac sign, a few interesting skills of yours and then looked at him and gave him a new fact. “I think these have been some of the best days I’ve had in a really long time.”

At that sentence he looked up from his plate and into your eyes. He was across from you, probably 3 feet away, standing, but leaning against the counter his leg crossed over the other. Within an instant he was pushing off the counter and taking two steps towards you until your face was cupped in his hands and he was placing a kiss on your lips.

“Glad you agree.” You whispered when he pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath.

“What else?” He asked you, his forehead on yours as he asked the question. “Ask away.” His voice was so soft if he wasn’t this close to you, you never would have heard him.

“I think it’s your turn.” Whispering it back, your hand started playing with his button up shirt.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I love watching antique roadshows.”

He let out a bellow of a laugh, and brought you closer to him at the statement, placing a haste kiss to the side of your head in between chuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Bradley?” Your eyes squinted as you looked up at him.

He started fumbling on his words, wondering if he got the vibe mixed up. Maybe this was a one time thing for you. For him, he liked you. He knew it was quick but on base situations like this were always quick. Time went by differently on base.

Interrupting his thoughts, you spoke. “If it’s a date, I want flowers.”

Relief fell on his face and he nodded in agreement. “Roses or lilies?

“Sunflowers, yellow’s my favorite color, too.”

Part 3 Dividers by: @mikeykuns 🛫Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!) CHAPTER INDEX <- where you can find previous chapters to this fic!

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley rooster fanfiction #Fanboy #mickey fanboy garcia #top gun maverick fanfiction

97 notes · View notes

itwasntimethatdidit40 · 1 month

Text

Special Needs

Gif credits

Pairing/AU: DBF!Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak

Rating: +18, Minors please don’t interact, NSFW

Summary: Joel lets you convince him that you can help him get back in shape. (Do you remember the episode of Friends where Monica convinces Chandler to work out with her? The idea came to me while watching that episode. What came out of it, however, has almost nothing to do with that episode. LOL but I used the name Geller as a tribute)

Word count: 4254

Warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 22, Joel's age is not explicitly mentioned but I would say around 46/48), pov switch (I hope I succeeded because it's my first time), reader has breasts and vagina, she is wearing shorts and a sports bra and has a ponytail, other than that there is no other particularly accurate description of her, brat taming dynamic, power dynamic, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill, please take precautions IRL), spit, cum eating, oral (m receiving), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), sex in a public place (a park LOL), risk of getting caught, swearing (A LOT), Joel is mean, reader is mean too and also a total brat, rough sex, praise kink, a little bit of orgasm control, a lot of bickering, Joel wears shorts (!!!), Joel comes inside her, sort of (?) seed kink, pet names (mostly good girl, honey, bratty little thing, cheeky little thing, babe), use of the term daddy once, readers calls Joel and old man and other nicknames multiple times, Joel slaps reader once during sex, I don’t even know what to say, you all, it’s pure filth 💀 Title is from a Placebo song.

As always, English is not my first language so please be kind, no proofreading, no editing, no beta, it’s all my fault and I’m very sorry, I hope this makes sense, otherwise pretend it never existed, thanks.

And thank you so much for reading my silly little stories, I'm still in disbelief that anyone is interested in what I write 😭

Joel hadn’t considered everything when you suggested it. He’d looked at your big, shining eyes as you told him he didn’t need to pay a lot of money to join a gym, you’d take care of getting him in shape.

Running had always been a part of you and you did it every morning so there wouldn’t be any problems.

Luckily, you had just returned from college for the summer and would be spending three months at your parents’ house before classes started again.

At first it seemed like a sentence, you would have preferred to go to Europe with your roommate but you had decided to save the money you had earned working as a waitress and you didn't feel like asking your parents for them.

As soon as you got out of your dad’s car, you saw Joel waving at you from across the street and you remembered when you had a crush on him. You thought you’d put it behind you and that it was just a passing teenage nonsense.

That day you realized that it wasn't like that, it hadn't gone away at all.

Two weeks had passed and your father had invited his best friend Joel for dinner.

Sure, why not.

You were so nervous that it took you an hour and a half to choose what to wear, your mother had come to your room twice to see what the hell you were doing and why you hadn't gone down to the kitchen to help her yet.

Why the hell did you get yourself into that situation?

After all, blowing your savings in Europe was probably not such a bad idea, after all you are 22 and had the right to enjoy your holidays. Stupid conscience, by now you could have been in Spain or Italy or even France.

You ended up wearing denim shorts and a crop top. Pretty much what you usually wore, but you thought you saw Joel peeking at your thighs few days before and you obviously liked the idea.

When your mother saw you she didn't make any comment, she had never made a fuss about how you dressed. And she certainly didn't imagine that those skimpy denim shorts were there to get her husband's best friend to look at you, it didn't even cross her mind. You were above suspicion.

When you saw him enter the dining room followed by your father you almost lost your breath.

Why was he so damn attractive? You should have convinced yourself to forget about him but you hadn't. You had tried to do it that night too, until he mentioned that he wanted to join the gym and you almost interrupted him and said "you could come running with me."

You felt like you were watching yourself from the outside and if you could you would have slapped yourself. Why had such a bullshit come out of your mouth.

Fuck.

You actually knew very well why.

Joel looked at you with a surprised expression. “Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Excuse me, you live across the street, is it possible that you’ve never seen me running? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I never noticed, kid, honestly noticing your habits is not a priority in my life” Joel had replied nonchalantly.

Your father had laughed, covering his embarrassment.

Of course he knew. He had seen you scampering around the neighborhood in those skimpy shorts and that way-low-cut sports top. He had also wondered where the hell you had bought that stuff, didn't the good old tracksuits that covered everything exist anymore?

“Well, you could at least try. We’ll start with a short route. Just a few miles, do you think you can do it?” You replied, batting your eyelashes and looking at him with an angelic expression.

“Sure, kiddo, I sweat all day to earn a living,” he retorted defiantly. “Who do you think I am?”

“An old man” you said candidly.

This time even your mother, who was usually composed and cared more about education than anything else, giggled.

Joel looked at you with an ironic expression “ok, little girl, I'm in”

“Good, then I'll see you at 6 because it will be too hot later, I'll come and knock on your door” you replied mischievously.

“Pfff Do you think it’s a problem for me to wake up early? I’ve been waking up at 5 for decades”

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday”

Joel rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

You had won, incredible.

Your father looked at him smiling and shrugged, “what can I say, I have a smart daughter”

Oh sure, you looked so pleased with yourself.

You hadn't won the war yet though.

————

The next morning you wake up at 5, get ready, put on the shortest shorts you could find, a sports top that reaches just below your breasts, and go out quietly so as not to wake your parents.

You knock on Joel's door at 6 o'clock sharp, imagining his expression when he saw you.

Joel opens the door with a cup of coffee in his hand “hey girl! do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks you with a seraphic expression painted on his face.

He would never give you the satisfaction of being caught unprepared.

“I’ve already had it at my house. Don’t try to postpone the inevitable Mr Miller.” he hates it when you call him that, it makes him feel old and you know it.

“When did you become so simpering? I need to have a chat with your father.” he smirks.

“Of course” you reply rolling your eyes “So are you ready or not? I won’t wait all morning.”

“I was born ready, little rascal, I'll take this to the kitchen and then we can go”

“K, I’ll wait here”

You drum your fingers on the door frame as you watch him walk away. “Tick tock, tick tock,” you taunt and he turns to glare at you as he walks past the kitchen threshold.

You have to admit, he looks pretty cute in shorts, in fact, who are you trying to fool… he has amazing legs.

And clearly, even if you never tell him, you think that he doesn't need anything and that the effort he puts into his job has already shaped him enough. This is just an excuse to spend time alone with him.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, closing the door and putting his keys in his pocket. “Keep up with me, old man,” you say, smiling before stepping off his porch and running as fast as you can.

You hear him swearing behind you as he tries to catch up. After a hundred meters you see him coming up beside you and he’s out of breath “you did it on purpose”

“Of course” you giggle looking straight ahead.

“Can we slow down a bit now or were you planning on giving me a heart attack?”

“Okay, okay, I don't want you on my conscience, Mr Miller,” you start walking at a fast pace “we can do this for a while”

You turn to him and see his face all red and sweaty. “Damn, are you down already?”

“Not a chance, little girl. And stop calling me Mr. Miller, you know it gets on my nerves.” he grunts trying to catch his breath

“Yes I know, Mr Miller” you reply with a flirtatious tone and you know he didn’t miss it because he turns to you and looks at you and his eyes say “I’m going to make you regret this”

“So, why did you come back here this summer?”

“College is expensive and my parents already do enough for me, I’m trying to save as much as I can.”

“It’s a smart move and indeed very thoughtful” he admits

"See? I'm not as bad as you think” you say glaring at him while you keep the pace “While we’re on the subject, you might not call me kiddo, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yeah, whatever, kiddo. I’m good now just in case you are interested”

“Ok, you asked for it” you say in a challenging tone and start running again as fast as you can.

“Hey!” He shout “you little cheeky thing!”

“Blame yourself for it, geriatric” you shout back.

Joel huffs and tries to run faster to catch up with you as you run away laughing.

He doesn't mind being behind though, he can see your ass bouncing hugged in those ridiculous shorts you've put on that barely cover your butt cheeks.

He’s not supposed to think certain things, but you've been mischievous since you got back.

He has noticed how you look at him and how you always try to argue with him, he is pretty sure that this is your way of flirting and he finds it quite funny.

And well… you're definitely cute, much cuter than he remembered.

He forced himself not to do anything because you are his best friend's daughter but you don't make it easy for him.

And now you’re here in those skimp shorts and that sports bra so small that your boobs look like they could pop out at any moment.

And the worst part is your attitude.

Fuck, you’re making a mess in his pants lately.

“Come on, old man, you can do it” oh you are so insolent in persisting in calling him old, he really should teach you a lesson.

He tries his hardest to reach you and you slow down, let him get a little closer and run away again.

“Jesus Christ” he cuss under his breath and try to run faster and you let him getting closer and then you sprint away again laughing and calling him a couch potato.

You keep going like this until he can finally reach you and he grab your wrist.

You turn to him “Hey! Let go of me!” you look like an angry kitten ready to scratch.

“Now we're taking a break,” Joel hisses.

“What the hell? There are still two miles to go”

“I SAID. We’re taking a break. Now”

“Okay, lazybones, whatever you want, don't get too nervous”

Joel is looking mad, which is so dumb, you were just kidding and he should know it.

It turns you on to see him like this though, you have to admit it.

“How about you let go of my wrist for starters?”

He lets go and looks at you askance.

He's drenched, little drops of sweat slide down the column of his neck, his black, soaked curls are plastered to his forehead, his damp t-shirt lets you glimpse the shape of his nipples.

God, he’s gorgeous.

His labored breathing sounds like a hoarse roar as he tells you, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

Yeah, you shouldn't be so horny for Joel but you can't help it.

“I’m doing nothing” you shout

“Don’t scream” his voice is low but nark.

He looks around, you are near the park and there is no one else.

Apparently you are the only ones who had the crazy idea of running at 6 on Saturday morning.

He grabs your arm and drags you inside, you try to resist “Joel!” but you don’t really want to. He stops behind a tree and pushes you against it.

“You’re trying to do nothing, huh? You haven't been trying to tease me since you got here, have you?“

“No” you say, but you're so delighted that he noticed.

“So at the Geller party last week you didn’t intentionally drop your glass in front of me and bend over to pick it up so I could see your panties, right?”

“I dropped a glass, that's all,” you coo.

“And not even the day you stood naked in front of your bedroom window? You knew I was in the garden, you saw me“

“I was in my room and I had just showered. It's not my fault that you are a voyeur”

“Sure. And the other day when I met you and your father at the cafe and you were eating ice cream? Even then you weren’t trying to do anything?”

Oh. He noticed that too.

Yep, you were busy with that spoon. Pretty cliché of you, you felt so silly.

But apparently it worked.

“It's you who sees mischief where there’s nothing”

“Oh sure, I imagined it” he hiss

You feel the bark stinging your back as he presses you against it, his arms at either side of you stretched out against the tree.

You could duck and run away if you wanted to. The point is, you don't want to.

“And tell me, what did you think you were going to do with these shorts and this top?”

“I was thinking of running” you shrug, and you look at him batting your eyelashes.

He snorts, “You’re such a brat”

You raise your chin slightly, resting your head against the tree “So what?” you ask defiantly “What do you want to do, you moldy old rag, punish me?”

He presses you even more against the tree, staying an inch from your face. You can feel his breath blowing on your skin.

“This attitude will not bring you anything good”

“oooh how scary”you whisper, looking him straight in the eyes.

He licks his lips “Is this what you want?”

“Yes”

His mouth is crushing on yours in a second, his tongue forces your lips and slips inside licking you hungrily and leaving you breathless, his beard scratching your skin.

You grab his cock through his shorts squeezing it and you can feel it’s already hard.

He pulls off and hiss “Fuck, baby, you don’t waste time”

“Yes, I never liked wasting my time” you purr

He takes your hand and raises your arm, pinning it against the tree. “And you think you deserve that?” he asks you authoritatively.

“What the fuck. Of course I do”

“I don’t think so. Here's what you're going to do now. You're going to shut your mouth and do what I tell you to do.”

“No” you hiss

“Oh you will, brat, if you want my dick”

“Fuck”

He looks around again to make sure there is no one in the park. “Kneel down.”

“On the ground?” you raise your eyebrow

“Yeah, on the ground princess. Kneel”

“But I-”

“KNEEL. Fuck, don't make me raise my voice, someone might hear”

You kneel in front of him and he pulls down his shorts just enough to pull his cock out.

It's huge.

You swallow, wondering how you're going to fit it in your mouth.

“Open” he orders

“It won’t fit” you’re suddenly intimidated.

“It will fit, darling, open wide”

“But Joel…”

“Open. Wide.”

You open your mouth as wide as you can and wait. He spit in his hand and strokes himself a couple of times and then starts to slide it into your mouth, onto your tongue.

Your gag reflex almost gets the better of you when you feel it hit the back of your throat.

His salty, musky flavor is all over your mouth.

Luckily you manage to hold back and look up at him “Just like that, honey. See how much easier it is when you stop being a brat?”

He grabs your ponytail and starts moving your head up and down its length, the ground scrapes your knees, you try to breathe through your nose but you're still tired from the run and it's not like Joel has given you so much time to recover.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing but Joel immediately scolds you “eyes on me” and he tugs on your hair.

You grunt and in response he starts fucking your mouth again harder than before.

“Do as I say or your pussy won't even get touched today.”

And you stupidly think “well, I can do it myself” and you bring one hand up your shorts, right above your clit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you immediately hear him say as he takes his cock out of your mouth.

His hand is still tight on your ponytail, he pulls your head and slaps his cock on your cheek.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes” you murmur

“A little bit louder, babe. I can’t hear you”

“Yes” you repeat.

“You don't have an ending until I say so, you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good. Stick out your tongue for me, baby”

And you do. You want it too much.

He goes back into your mouth and starts rutting into it savagely.

You feel tears stinging your eyes and the ground is now unbearable under your knees but you don't protest anymore, his big fat cock throbbing between your lips and its veins sliding on your tongue are too delicious to do without.

You feel your panties getting soaked.

You look into his eyes again and you can see a pleased expression painted all over his face.

It's so infuriating and rousing at the same time.

Fuck, Joel Miller.

You don't even know how long he keeps fucking your mouth, you’re totally cock drunk at this point.

His orgasm takes you by surprise, you feel his seed invade your mouth and drip down your chin.

He finally pulls back and smear his seed all over your lips with his thumb.

He forces your lips with his finger “lick it clean, babe”

And you do, like a kitten starved.

“Such a good girl” and his little praise goes straight to your clit.

He finally gets you off the ground and he puts his cock back in his pants.

You look down at your knees, they’re full of grass and dirt, you brush them off with the back of your hand and they hurt. Great. You already know you’re going to get bruises.

“What are you going to tell your parents?”

“That I gave you a blowjob in the park after running. What do you think? Jesus, I'll pretend that I fell to the ground like an idiot" and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, bratty little thing” Joel smirk defiantly.

You sit up and lean back against the tree. You tug on his shirt, pulling him closer to you. “So are you going to fuck me or are you too old to come twice in a row?”

He doesn't even answer, he takes your wrists and holds them still against the tree with one hand, while he slips the other one past the elastic of your shorts and into your panties.

His thick, calloused fingers slide over your folds “You’re already soaking wet” and without warning he slides his index and middle fingers into your hole while his thumb presses on your clit.

You gasp so hard and he just says “God, you’re so tight, babe” and he starts curling them up into you “How does it feel?”

“Good” you whisper “so good, Joel, I feel so full”

“Yeah baby, that’s what daddy’s fingers are made for, to fill your pussy well” his scent mixed with sweat pervades your nostrils, he lowers his face to your neck and bites your skin while he doesn't stop moving inside you.

“Fuck” you hiss. You're intoxicated by him, your head is spinning “fuck, don’t stop, please”

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

And it’s absolutely true.

Joel shouldn't say this, but you've been stuck in his head like a nail since the day you got back and you won't leave him alone.

And now that he has let go of the leash of his inhibitions, it seems impossible to stop. He no longer knows how many times he has stopped to look at you, completely sucked in, his eyes glued to the curve of your ass or the roundness of your breasts, your nipples that peeked out from the fabric of your shirt.

And he managed to remain quiet anyway, until you pushed yourself to the limit by suggesting to go for a run together. And now he's even more fucked, because he's realized that feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock, your body on his, your tits pressed against his chest and your pussy opening up to his fingers is enrapturing.

And your shitty attitude actually makes him hornier.

“Fuck” he says in a hushed tone “Gosh, babe, you’re so pretty like that, all worked up over my fingers.”

“It feels so good, Joel, so good” you whine and you can hear you heart pounding in your chest so hard, he’s tormenting you as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you “More, I want more”

“Ask nicely” his voice is firm

You look him in the eyes and you wonder why he can't be satisfied with your gaze, you're sure it’s eloquent enough at this moment.

“Please, Joel”

“What do you want, honey?”

“Your cock”

It’s incredible that you’re doing this in this park, you’re begging him to fuck you here.

In an hour at most it’ll start to fill up with people, probably even some of your neighbors who have known you forever. “Manners, babe” He bites one of your nipple through your sports bra and sucks greedily, wetting the fabric.

“Your cock - ah - please”

He lets go of your wrists and his hand comes out of your underwear, your pussy aching for a release.

He pulls down your shorts and frees his cock again, he puts your panties aside and takes his cock in his hand “spit” he orders you.

You look at him for a moment without understanding, dazed at the idea of having to take his massive cock in your cunt, which is what you asked for.

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes “wake up honey. spit on it” he repeats.

You gather some saliva in your mouth and then let it drip from your lips, letting it fall onto his cock.

“Good girl. You'd be even better if you didn't make me repeat things twice, we need to work on this”

He pushes you back against the tree and slides inside you in one go and yes, you are dripping but his intrusion still rocks you for a moment.

It burns.

He stands still and looks you in the eyes “listen, we don’t have much time princess, don’t pout like that”

“Asshole” you say under breath.

He slaps you “watch your mouth, pretty thing”

Your cheek burns and yet you’re never been so aroused by anyone before.

“Fuck. Just… fuck me, please. Please, Joel”

He grabs your ass cheeks and starts moving inside you. You try to stifle your moans but one escapes your lips “God! Please Joel, please”

“Shut up. I wish I could stuff your panties in your mouth, brat” He silences you with a kiss while you think you wish he could.

And you're so delusional that you think "next time."

He licks into your mouth while he’s pumping into you, hitting your cervix just right, again and again.

And you’re almost there.

He pulls away from your mouth to catch his breath “Joel - I think - I think I’m coming”

He’s still pumping, faster and harder.

You hold onto his shoulders and clench your fists into his shirt “Joel I’m - ah- coming”

“Yes I feel it, I feel your pussy squeezing me, you’re doing it so good, so good for me, baby.”

“Joel” you're begging him, you're so close that you feel like you've lost your mind “Joel, please”

“Come for me, baby” he finally says against your skin “come hard for me”

You’ve been waiting for his permission and now that he's given it to you you feel your whole body shudder as a devastating orgasm washes all over you.

You're quivering against his broad chest, digging your nails into his shirt, trying to moan as little as possible to avoid making yourself heard.

He holds you tight as your legs shake.

He's still inside you and starts pumping harder after giving you time to calm down a bit "where do you want me to come?" "Inside" you whisper

"Fuck, baby, seriously?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill, please Joel, please fill me up"

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, please give it to me”

“Yeah, you want it, huh? You want my cum dripping down your legs, huh?

You nod “yes, please, please Joel”

And he explodes inside you an instant later, you feel thick sticky streaks of his seed painting your walls and he’s grunting so hard.

He takes it off you and puts it back in his pants, you fix your panties and shorts as best you can and you already feel it dripping between your thighs and it's a sensation that drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like that, all sweaty and hot for me”

You smile at him, actually grateful “it was amazing”

“Come on, let's get out of here before anyone sees us”

As soon as he finishes saying this, you see a man with a dog on a leash pass by on the other side of the park.

FUCK.

You run away as fast as you can and once outside Joel stops on the sidewalk, bending over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Fuck, do you think he saw us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But you know what? I don’t care.”

“You’re such a bad girl.”

Maybe you do, but you really don’t care, you’re too happy.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #one shot #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x oc #joel miller one shot #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader

126 notes · View notes

arandomnerd810 · 4 months

Text

personal TADC character analysis

uh warning this is long lol

autism time let’s go (/not in a negative way i have autism) stretches hands * I’ll go in order of the character episodes cause why not we have it (see below) i’ll put periods but it will just be to make it more readable not to be intimidating lolll

btw im completely open to interpretations of characters changing throughout the series this is just for fun

Gooseworx has said this series is mostly focused on characters rather than lore, and from what we know, i truly believe it. I don’t think any of the current characters will abstract because of this.

(I put a version of this in the glitch inn discord theory thing so if you recognize it that’s why)

Pomni: we already know her deal pretty well, as we’ve already had her episode. uuuh if anyone’s going to do something important lore wise it will probably be her as she’s the main character but can’t rlly tell what that may be. to review ep 2 though she’s an outcast who has felt like she was nothing and is a logical thinker.

(Kinger and Zooble will there their focus episode but i put it in order of who was revealed to be the ep 3 focus first)

Zooble: From their design (the entire motif is it can be changed at any time) and the fact she doesn’t know his gender, we’re dealing with some pretty clear identity issues. Friends with Gangle seems cool excited for next episode to learn more about them!

Kinger: One of the most interesting characters so far. I feel like we will get to learn more about abstraction though Queenie, the X-ed out door that looks like a female version of him. If i had to guess, since Gooseworx said they were not siblings, they were a couple. (Also judging by his age and the fact he could have been married, he may have been a father yeowch imagine that) I can see the common theory of the insect collection implying he was a coder before getting trapped, but i could also see him being some random guy who just likes bugs lol. He seems like really sweet guy behind his constant anxiety and disassociating.

Gangle: (My faveorite human rn) Her mask design can be interpreted in a lot of ways but it’s clear that the happy mask isn’t her real personality. My take on it rn is she doesn’t wana bother people with her stuff so she pretends she’s happy? She seems easily embarrassed and def has self esteem lower than the last circle of hell. What’s interesting though is she’s willing to stand up for herself from time to time, even though she’s easily shot down after.

Ragatha: Waaaay too nice for her own good. Also probably has self esteem lower than the last circle of hell and bases her self worth of others approval. Though she’s been here the second longest, she seems a lot more normal than Kinger. Makes me question how long apart their introductions have been. Probably copes via escapism.

Jax: I can see why everyone is very interested in him cause me too. He seems like the only fourth wall breaky guy (unless you count Caine cause of his intro at the pilot)which is rlly interesting how did he figure out more than everyone else? what’s with the keys? i have no clue lmao. He’s an asshole who makes the best of his situation by torturing everyone else. At the end of the day though, he’s a human and was sad at kaufmo’s abstraction but he probably isolates himself so it would probably be the same for anyone

but waAitTt a moment

that’s 6 humans but Gooseworx said we would look into 7 (cause of the “other” part) in her twitter post talking about the character focus timeline so we know our fav character won’t be left behind ⁉️⁉️⁉️ I hear you not asking well my dear hypothetical person, who better to fill the 7th character than Caine?

Why you did not ask? Too bad i’m info dumping. First, he’s the main antagonist and alongside Pomni, the commercial face (or lack their of haha teeth and eye joke) of the series. he’s an important character and loved by many. (and hated equally if not more aside the point lmaooo)

Yes, gooseworx can lie about stuff but I think she’s smarter than to lead this heavy into Caine depth/ angst territory if there wasn’t going to be anything On top of that, the entire purpose of the timeline post was so we know our faveorite characters weren’t getting treated poorly. It’s unlike for a character based show to suddenly drop such a major character for some random other guy were introduced to later or smth. i mean cmon there’s three episodes after all the humans at least one of them has to be focused on my boy.

Caine: I believe he really does have good intentions and wants to help but just does not understand people at all. This means he’s like an anxiety disorder; it wants to help, solves some issues but creates 500 more. Judging by the Tumblr post, loneliness may play a big part in what’s to come? I’ve always had a feeling his front was extremely fake and his VA saying “breaks keyfable” (an act that pretends it’s true) supports that theory. Episode two gives some insecurity vibes when Zooble didn’t want to go on the adventure. I find that pretty interesting cause he didn’t care at all if people went on the gloink adventure or not. Maybe he puts some adventures over others and he could have been proud of the candy adventure cause more time and care was put into it and he made a new AI. Why did he blue screen? i feel like he could have some blockages on what he can say built in though im not sure why he was blocked then if he even was. one of the biggest questions i have ab him currently tbh. what’s with him grabbing his cane like that in ep 2? if i had to guess simply be nervous = that? His VA also knows some depth to him even though his focus episode is likely going to be at least one of the last 3 episodes, which they have not gotten to recording yet. You know what this means Caine angst solidarity club? Sad Caine so more fan angst appetizers before the main cannon feast let’s friccin go‼️‼️⁉️⁉️

(try to guess my fav impossible /j)

#glitch productions #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc ragatha #tadc jax

106 notes · View notes

liasadventuretime · 2 years

Text

˗ˏˋyou jealous ? :) ´ˎ˗ - neteyam x reader pt. 3

⁀➷ part three : CONGRATULATIONS, FUCKER.

notes : so um… hi ! since y’all really enjoyed pt. 2 i decided i might as well write a pt. 3… i have to say that it was kind of hard writing this part because i genuinely didn’t think people would’ve liked it that much and had no idea of what to say anymore ☠️ but anygays … i had a BIG ASS fight with my parents so they took my phone, and they’re probably going to take my mac away too so idk when i’ll upload pt. 4 ( if y’all want one ), so i tried to write a bit more this time, i hope it’s sufficient.

tags : @xoxobabe @marcswife21 @arminsgfloll @rubysworld96 @klarolinefanatic @giftfromthemoon @k4tsukiis @rainehatepage @neteyamsbbgfr @miapanticc @iixyia-deactivated20230123 @famousbagelhandspurse @astablacksword @ghoulfac3 @buttercake2234 @potseluymenya @mashiromochi @avatarslut0 @chanyeolsbeloved @regulus-black-223048 @isabelcor3 @grierpilots @neteyamsmate4life @beyoenisbalfart @severenswife @lady-in-gold @bealone-prm @hafutoru @jyoungmom @soxfix @thatgoodvibescloud @aalyara @abbersreads @neteyamsw @strawberryys-stuff @ilovestargirl @rubysworld96 @meivap @neteyamsullyswife @erenjaegerwifee @cherry-blossom34 @slutforavatar @hey-girl-hey @athenachu @laaalox @ghostjoohoney @tsamiaxo @arminsgfloll

warnings : a bit of angst, insecurity, overthinking neteyam lmao, detailed masturbation, this man is lusting waaaaaayyy too much over you lmao, a lil makeout session with someone 🤭, and i think that’s it lol.

everything was okay now. no really, everything’s okay.

after your talk with neteyam, he left you with more questions than answers once again.

your brain felt like a beehive, never stopping, so you tried to distract yourself with anything.

you trained, you read, you helped around, but not even spending time with ao’nung could help. you don’t think he noticed the way you pretended it was neteyam holding you, kissing you, spoiling you. but you gotta be careful.

you just had one single thought in your mind.

flashback

“you know we could argue right now, and no one would hear or see us ?”

“we could do anything right now, and nobody would see us. anything.”

your thoughts were interrupted by someone speaking.

you opened the tent only to see someone’s chest right in front of you, you tilted your head up and you saw him. neteyam.

your heart dropped to your stomach for a second, making you almost gasp. what was he doing here ? his hair was still in the same hairstyle you saw him in at the beach. he looked almost unreal.

face framed by a few braids, jaw locked making him look so nervous for some reason, his high cheekbones sharp as always, and even though you never told him, you wanted to feel his cheekbones so much, all the time. pointy nose with a little bump which you recognised immediately, it was jake’s. that bump was only on his nose, because all the other sons and daughters didn’t have it. he really is his father’s son. eyes still soulless, empty that almost looked dead. they were pointy, but not too much. he has that “sharp” look from neytiri, her stare could send you to heaven and above. his shoulders broad, not too muscly which is something you liked. his arms veiny and biceps always flexed, not even having to force it. his abs well sculpted, he was still wet, droplets of water running down his face and chest, he was probably swimming with lo’ak. or someone else.

you shook your head a bit, to get that thought off your head. it doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t. his v-line almost looks like it got highlighted and sharpened, which was the only thing you hated about the way your people dress.

his everything was for everyone to see. everyone.

you sometimes tend to forget he’s not offlimits, and to say you had nightmares, about someone else getting neteyam before you, was too little.

his voice snapping you out of your trance again, hoping he didn’t catch you quite literally analyzing his whole body, but the proud smile on his face immediately cleared all your doubts.

“your cigarettes.” he said getting in your face making fun of you. he handed you your pack of cigarettes. he didn’t give you the lighter but it didn’t matter, that’s the last thing you cared about right now.

that’s quite weird though. this isn’t the first time you forgot your cigarettes, he usually just keeps them since you smoke them together anyways. you better not think about it too much before you get delusional.

“oh, thank you.” you lightly smiled at him, looking at him in the eyes while taking the packet off your hands. but before you could get them, he pulled your hand to him and placed the pack on the top of your palm, his hand still holding yours. stop, stop, stop.

if you could only know what he was thinking about, he thought to himself.

if you could only know what he did later that night thinking about you.

flashback

“i fucking knew it.” he said, walking to his tent, his fists tight, his jaw locked.

he fucking knew you just couldn’t take that further step. he was only a game to you.

you enjoyed teasing him, playing with his mind acting like he was your dirty little toy, cared about only when you’re horny, or ao’nung couldn’t satisfy you enough.

how could he at the end of the day ? ao’nung wasn’t him and will never be.

he knows he’s better, but fuck do your choices fuck his mind up.

he though he could at least get one night with you, one single night. he could be near you, stay with you, inside you. he could see you. but you didn’t want to. hell, you didn’t even want to look at him.

the constant thoughts of you, torturing his mind. he hoped he could at least live one night of pure love, caring and affection, thinking you wanted too, so he could then go on with his life, mate with a person he didn’t love or care about only to satisfy his father, since the only thing he has always wanted was you.

he wanted you to look at him, but you were too busy staring and smiling at ao’nung.

he felt tears glossing his eyes, you could never be with him, because you simply didn’t want to.

as soon as he got into his tent, he immediately threw your shit away, that you forgot on the beach, with your other stuff. yes, he had a chest with a bunch of stuff you always forgot when you were around him. even looking at it, could make his heart wrench, feeling actual pain.

your blanket, you were nine years old and you had forgotten it when you slept that night with his parents, you had a nightmare. he didn’t sleep that night, so that if you had a nightmare again he could be the one to comfort you. not his parents, him.

your emerald braid accessory, you were eleven, he said he liked it, that it suited your face, so you took it off your braid and placed it in his hand, saying “take it, it’ll look better on you anyway”. it would’ve never looked better on anyone, that wasn’t you. so he just decided to keep it.

your spoon, the one that you used to eat your meals with, and that one time you happened to really like the meal his mom cooked for you. you took a spoonful of it, and positioned it in front of neteyam’s mouth. he was confused for a second, not getting if you actually wanted him to eat out of your spoon. you said “open your mouth, it’s really good, i promise”. not like you had to prove anything, he would’ve eaten a spoonful of poison if your hand was the one holding it. he hesitantly opened his mouth and you fed him. you smiled, and went back to eating your meal, with the same spoon you had just fed him with. it was something probably superficial for you, but it really did mean the world to him.

nostalgia was the sharpest blades of all.

if he only knew you thought the same exact thing.

his mask slipped for a second, letting a tear cut though his face, leaving behind a cold scar. he aggressively wiped it away. he hated you, so so so much. he couldn’t bear the sight of you.

he hated you.

he hated your beautiful hair, your sharp sparkly eyes, your soft cheekbones, your so damn kissable nose, your pouty lips that always fucking curl and smile at everyone’s jokes but his, the soft hill of your breast, the curve that separated your ribcage from the lowest part of your waist.

he couldn’t avoid getting hard every single fucking time. thinking about the way of your body moves when you play beach volley with your group, the way you felt on top of him, or well right on top of his dick, every single time you fought. he couldn’t avoid thinking about the way you were on top of him, fitting oh so well on his dick, while he was holding your wrists with one hand, but since you were way too angry, you didn’t even notice that his other free hand was placed on your waist with a brutal grip. to say he almost whimpered seeing stars, because of how well his big hand fitted on your strong curvy waist, was way too little.

there weren’t words to explain how much he wanted you. he could’ve collected every single thing he wrote about you, and still wouldn’t be enough to explain how hard his heart throbbed every time you were with him. well, maybe something else throbbed too.

neteyam couldn’t take it anymore. if he had to rub out every single thought he had about you, he would’ve became infertile a long time ago.

he placed his head on the pillow, trying to get to sleep in a fetal position. he turned and turned, trying to think of something else, but not the even aliyah, who he tried so hard to act like she was better than you, could lock his thought of you out of his mind.

he sighed in frustration, aggressively getting up when he noticed that.

his incredible massive boner, his dick’s timing was just great.

he got up, turned on the shower, making sure there was still some hot water, and took his clothes off.

“oh c’mon, now.” he silently said after taking off his underwear, noticing pre-cum on them. his dick spurted up, hitting him in the stomach. he rolled his eyes, and got in the shower.

the hot water hugged him, feeling like all of his problems were going down the drain.

he watched his dick gently throb, brought his hand to the base and slid it all the way up, circling his the tip, trying to let out of all the built up sexual tensione he had.

he tried to think about anything that wasn’t you. but how could he ?

how could he not think about the way your sex humped on his clothes, feeling your folds hug his shaft so perfectly. how could he not think of the way that you thought he didn’t notice you throb on him ? how could he not think of the way his hand from your waist slid down to your ass, before his dad separated the both of you ? how could he not think of the way that ao’nung’s hand was in your inner thigh, but you were looking at him ?

his pace got faster, making him heavy pant with his eyes closed, your figure tattooed on his eyelids. he came, seeing some of his seed on his hand and what was left of it going down the drain with the water and his problems.

he sighed, staying there, back held by the wall behind him, leaving him thinking. but he was way too tired of thinking. his temples were throbbing with pain, from how hard his headache was. he just finished washing himself, put some clothes on, and just went to sleep.

you woke up the next morning, head basically feeling like someone stomped on it.

you barely could even sleep last night, too many problems flowing in your thoughts.

you sighed, almost whimpering, brutishly throwing your head back on the pillow. why did everything have to be soooo complicated. you definitely had to talk to him, because all of this had to stop. you were tired, sexually frustrated and sleep deprived. this combo could easily make you kill anyone who even tries to disturb your peace.

you hated the way he was trying to hard to act like “he’s protecting his peace”, motherfucker your disturbing everyone else’s. you got up sloppily, waiting for lo’ak to come by your tent like he did every single morning.

but well, weird. time has passed and you didn’t even see lo’ak’s shadow, where could he be ?

you got out of your tent, walking to his parents’ one since the poor lil boo boo had nightmares basically every single night. you almost wanted to feel bad for him, but how the fuck could you ?

at the beginning you thought that after hearing all the crazy stories about the war his dad, the former Toruk Makto, fought, he just was scared and was having nightmares about that.

but after hearing that he had a nightmare about you fucking tsireya, you were done caring about this man. out of all things in the world, THAT ? since you said you could definitely fall in love with a girl, he went on flight or fight mode. saying this guy could literally sweat jealousy, was too little.

“father ? are you here ?” you said while keeping the tone of your voice low and calm, so you didn’t scare anyone off. but the scene in front of you could be the least thing you expected.

neytiri and jake seated in a circle with everyone, and when you say everyone, you meant EVERYONE. in front of jake there was neteyam, who looked like he almost killed someone by the way he had his head down, legs crossed and… was that a slap mark ??

on neteyam’s left, kiri and spider were seated. which is weird, why were they so quiet ? on neteyam’s right there were lo’ak and tuk. even tuk ? you felt a wave of goosebumps traveling their way up your back. this is way much more serious than you thought.

jake looked at you with the harshest expression you have ever seen on his face. “oh great, (y/n) sit down and join us.” you didn’t sit down, still trying to process what he was saying while walking in the tent, getting behind neteyam.

“FUCKING SIT. NOW.” he screamed at you, as you felt a wave of shock wash over you. you immediately sat down, accidentally bumping neteyam’s shoulder. that’s the first time jake has ever yelled at you. never, in his whole life has he ever screamed at you. yes, he sometimes could be mad at you, but has never screamed that way. neytiri looked at you with heartbroken eyes, mouthing ‘i’m so sorry.’. why would she apologise, it’s not like it’s her fault. right ?

jake huffed, keeping the palms of his hands on his crossed legs, almost looking like he was trying to find the words to explain what was on his mind. this man is going to get a heart attack if you and the others don’t stop stressing him. you felt ashamed, of the way you childishly fighted with neteyam over stupid stuff, not even realising your father couldn’t handle it anymore.

the shame, always comes at the worst time.

“this is the last fucking time i’m saying this. why THE FUCK-” he stopped for a second, trying to calm down for a second. tuk was with us, he probably didn’t want to swear or yell in front of her. you saw him take a deep breath and finish his sentence.

“why, THE FUCK, did you treat her like that ? what has she done to you ? it’s not like your skxawng ass has a mate to be loyal to.” he said, finishing his sentence.

your heart dropped, you were almost capable of hearing the echo of its fall. wait.

she ?

who are we talking about ?

interrupting you from your thoughts, jake stood up scaring everyone, and furiously walked to then kneel in front of neteyam. he harshly grabbed his face, making you gasp out loud, almost like he grabbed your face.

what happened ? you were so confused. she ? who is she ? how did he treat her for jake to be this mad ?

neteyam looked at him, his head tilt up with absent eyes, lips pressed together and jaw locked.

“you have absolutely no idea of what you’ve done, do you ?” jake almost whispered, which was probably even scarier than him screaming.

“this sweet sweet girl, who is literally the clan leader’s daughter, came up to you, asking you whatever the fuck she asked you, and what did you do ?” oh. so it’s tsireya’s sister we’re talking about, aliyah.

“’ oh leave me alone, i don’t want anything to do with you’” he said mocking neteyam’s words. he chuckled, and continued.

“your skxawng ass better be grateful if the leader doesn’t tell us to pack our staff and go the fuck away, after the way she ran away crying.” he stood up from his position, stopping the grasp on neteyam’s face, making him leave his head to the side. he lifted up his gaze, only to be met with yours.

you were genuinely so worried, in part because you couldn’t understand what in the actual fuck was happening. what did aliyah want ? why did neteyam make her cry ?

“is it my fault that i don’t want to mate with a person i don’t like ?” he silently said, making everyone turn their heads to him, no one expected him to talk. this is so bad.

jake stopped for a second with his back towards him. he slowly turned around with furrowed eyebrows and a slightly parted mouth. “what the fuck did you just say ?” he said, the vein on his temple was quite literally about to pop.

“I SAID, i don’t want to mate with her ! i don’t want her ! she was throwing herself all over me, like the fucking slag she is, and when i told her no, BECAUSE I HAVE EVERY FUCKING RIGHT TO SAY NO, she started crying.” he stopped for a second, catching his breath while looking at his dad. he couldn’t recognise him, why was he suddenly so pressed and stressed about neteyam finding a mate ? did it have to do with you ?

jake crossed his arms, and with an ironic smirk on his face he said “then who the fuck do you like, huh ? is every other girl so repellent to you ? have you suddenly became picky or what ?”

neteyam was about to let a tear cut through his face but he didn’t even though his eyes still remained glossed with tears. “i like someone else, but they don’t want to have anything to do with me. that’s it. it’s not the end of the world.” neteyam finished, with a slightly cracked but most importantly low voice.

jake stared at him for a couple of seconds. his face was now suddenly calm, while neytiri’s was absolutely devastated.

there was no denying it, neteyam’s a mommas boy. thank god, neytiri never tried to emotionally incest him, indeed she was happy when he talked to her about this someone he liked. that was the first time neytiri saw her sweet son be so wrapped around someone’s finger. she said that he should at least try, not jump to conclusions. but if he did jump to conclusions earlier, he wouldn’t have to feel his heart wrench and blood boil every single time he thought about what happened that night with you at the beach. he should’ve jumped to conclusion, and probably taken a fucking hint. you didn’t want him. that’s it, it’s as simple as it gets. move on, neteyam.

move on.

jake looked at you for a second, like the answer to all his problems was somewhere inside of you. in that exact moment he thought.

“is it better to speak or to die ?”

should he speak ? should he let you know that all of this, was because neteyam couldn’t move past you ? he couldn’t even count on his hands how many other omatikaya women have came up and asked to be neteyam’s mate. and he refused to even look at them. one after the other.

or should he die ? let his son stare at you with dreamy eyes, trying everyday to kill whatever he felt for you ? see him mate with another person he probably didn’t love, or even want to be near to ? should he kill his son ? a body is nothing without its soul. you were half of him, even though you were probably complete on your own. that’s the thing.

you could live without neteyam, neteyam couldn’t live without you.

neteyam stood up, catching everyone’s attention, leaving the tent and distracting jake from his thoughts.

“reunion finished, get out” he said opening the tent’s entrance for everyone.

neteyam had been waiting for you. on the beach, with a new lighter, because he wanted to keep yours. only waiting for you to come here, smile at him, sit next to him and smoke together.

but after an hour, he was worried. had something happened to you ? where did you go after the family reunion ?

he just decided to get up, and look for you. to finally try and not jump to conclusions again.

to finally say those damn three words.

“i see you.”

yes, that was the day, or maybe he could at least try and hint his intentions. letting you know he wanted more than a hookup, and that he finally was fucking ready to treat you like he should have been all this time.

ok no, maybe it’s a little too early for that.

he had no idea that that same day, ao’nung came by your tent.

“hey, how are you ?” ao’nung asked, face poking from the side of your tents entrance. you were surprised he came by your tent. he wasn’t used to do this, but it’s not like you don’t appreciate it.

“hey” you said back. he got in the tent, looking around for a bit. this was probably the first time he came here after you decided to basically move here.

“so, what have you been up you?” you tried to keep a conversation going, you couldn’t bare the silence it was way too awkward.

“i’ve been missing you.” he said, in a serious tone. silence dropped for a second, but it was immediately interrupted by your laughs. thank god.

“and what have you been up to ?” he smiled looking at you while leaning his back on the wall. maybe you could fall in love with him. or maybe you’re just delusional.

“nothing special, if i have be to be honest, but… “ you left your sentence incomplete, walking to him with his gaze glued on you. same smirk on his face.

“… i’ve been missing you too.” you finished your sentence, placing a kiss on his lips.

you were such a little dirty liar. you didn’t miss him one bit.

you place another kiss on his lips, and another one. and another one.

until he placed a hand behind your neck, smashing your lips together, deepening your kiss. his tongue lightly parted your lips, as if he was asking for your consent. you hugged his tongue with yours, tasting him. but ao’nung’s lips couldn’t even come near netayam’s lips. soft, on your skin, jaw and neck. his hand tracing circles on your waist as usual, your arms thrown to circle his neck.

you silently moaned against his lips, catching his attention, making him heavy breathe. your lips still attached to his, you lightly jumped, his big hands covering your ass, making you hug his waist with your legs.

you were so deep already, into all of this story. are situationships supposed to act like this ? was it normal ? are you falling in love ? or are you falling in love with the person you’re pretending is holding you right now ?

are you in love with ao’nung or the guy that could make you fall to your knees with only a kiss ? or make you whimper with a single touch ? or make you doubt everything you know with a simple phrase ? that someone had such a special effect on you, you don’t think there’s any language in this world that is capable of explaining what he did to you. how he makes you feel.

you were so so so tired. of fighting. of pretending. of replacing.

shouldn’t things be easier ?

your thoughts interrupted by ao’nung’s lips kiss and biting on your neck, but neteyam did it so much better. you lifted your face, giving him more space to work on. ao’nung suddenly stopped, face still in the crook of your neck . and you suddenly had this bad bad feeling in your gut.

something bad about to happen to you. you don’t what it is, but you feel it coming.

you waited for ao’nung to say something, hands still on your back to hold you, like you weighted as much as a feather. he could give you anything you wanted, but how could ask him to give you another person ? that unfortunately wasn’t him.

“i know who you pretend i am.” your heart dropped the moment ao’nung spoke those words, with his voice low and cracked. he knew and still came by your tent. the guilt was chocking you.

he knows, and i know he knows. what could you even say ? that it wasn’t true ? that he was worried for nothing ? you couldn’t, because not only you would be lying to him, but you would also be lying to yourself.

as if your night couldn’t get better, someone entered the tent.

but as soon as you felt your heart stinging, you knew damn well you were in so much trouble.

so so so so much trouble. you were absolutely fucked.

you didn’t even have to look at him, to realise that the person who just entered your tent was neteyam. you immediately fell back to your feet, distancing yourself from ao’nung.

who did you even have to be loyal to ?

but maybe, it just was the fact that you couldn’t betray your heart.

you suddenly felt naked, in front of him. his gaze confused, eyes glossed once again with tears.

you just wanted to disappear, you just wanted to die.

he scoffed, crossing his arms and looking at you with a smirk on his face. this was so bad.

ao’nung kept trying to keep track on what was happening, why were you so suddenly acting like this. but he might have realised something, that the two of you have been trying to hide so hard. his eyes flashed, mouth slightly opened. heart completely shattered. he immediately ran out of the tent, purposely bumping his shoulder against neteyams. not even daring to look back. you felt a tear leave your eye. what have you done ?

the silence was suddenly interrupted by neteyams voice, making you tilt your head up.

“congratulations, fucker.”

he stopped for a second. trying to get the words.

“if you only knew how many words i have wasted on you, and how many other words i was willing to waste. even tonight, but you didn’t even come by.”

that’s all he said, before leaving once again, following ao’nung’s traces.

leaving you alone.

alone, again.

final notes : damn um, so how did y’all like it ? i hope u enjoyed it ! if y’all want a part four remember to like the post and if you want to be tagged and you’re not already on the tag list, message me privately or comment it ! for some reason i can’t tag everyone, so i’ll just directly send it ! sorry for the wait, AND PLS LET ME KNOW WHERE YALL ARE FROM BECAUSE IM EUROPEAN AND I POST AT COMPLETELY RANDOM TIMES 😭

sneak peak : so the time has come ! someone noticed a song reference i put in my story ! if y’all didn’t already notice it, in all my posts i put some song references which, if you can tell me from which song or band it is, you get a sneak peak of the next part before everyone else ! the first winner was… @grierpilots !, the reference was from a neighbourhood song, one of my favs which is crybaby ! the reference was : “i always get this anxious feeling, but it goes away when i’m with you breathing.” which neteyam said to you in pt. 2 of the fic ! the quote isn’t exact but it’s always recognisable :)

1K notes · View notes