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starsofang · 5 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART SIX

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! masterlist

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

Morning came, and when you woke, the Captain wasn’t by your side. Rather, the pair of shoes Soap had gifted you, left behind in the brig during the overwhelming visit from Price, laid neatly on his side of the bed. A note was placed on top, the telltale sign of Price’s handwriting written, one you recognized from the brief glimpse of his secretive map.

“Soap urged me to return these to you. Join us for breakfast when you wake.”

Tossing your legs over the side of the cot, you meticulously strapped the shoes to your feet one by one, tying them with careful hands. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore shoes, and the feeling was foreign.

Wiggling your toes for good measure, you found you had plenty of room. Taking a few steps around the room guaranteed they stayed. Soap had somehow observed your previously dirtied and battered feet and somehow sized them to his best knowledge.

They were perfect. You felt brand new.

New clothes and now new shoes. Bathed and scrubbed clean without a speck of dirt tainting your skin.

Perhaps you could give them a chance. At least, until you were able to get back on land again and say a silent farewell to all four of them. That was what you still wanted after all, right? Freedom, regardless of how kind they were trying to be.

Stepping out of Price’s quarters was that first taste of freedom you’d had in a while. Not a man to guard you like a dog, teeth bared if you tried to bite back. This time, it was peaceful.

The sea was calm with the waves lightly lapping against the sides of the boat. The scent of saltwater filled your nose and put all worries at ease. The sun was shining brightly above you, beating down with a lovely warmth that tickled your skin.

For a brief moment, it felt like you were home again. It was nothing like it, while mirroring it all at the same time. A bittersweet feeling it was, to feel a touch of serenity in a place so far from the place you knew.

You dared to think that this was somewhere you could rebuild a home with. In a way, this could be the freedom you’d been seeking. Far from entrapment on an island with no way out, with the feeling of sea legs on a boat that could take you to places you never knew existed.

You shut the thought down quickly. At the end of the day, the ones halting that dream were four rugged men who wouldn’t dare let you live out the fantasy long enough to cherish it. They were your captors. Not your friends.

It was fairly easy to figure out where their dining hall was. The boat was large, but the sounds of burly laughter and banter billowing through the breeze was unmistakable and it led you right to where you needed to be.

Your initial walk in wasn’t acknowledged. Not because they were ignoring you, but because they were far too occupied to realize. And by they, you really meant Soap and Gaz.

The two were bickering puppies. Mouths full of food, like ill-mannered children, spewing complete nonsense.

The first to notice you was Ghost. His gaze was chilling, eyes locked on you. While being uninterested and almost bored, there was also that glint of annoyance that came from your mere presence.

That alone was your subtle reminder that these men weren’t your friends. Your reality was not so lucky, and a few spouts of kindness given from the other three weren’t enough to warrant any comfort on your end. You were still in an unfair situation, one that you simply had to grow used to for the time being.

Ghost was a force, though. Just from his stare, you could feel the foreboding threat that lingered deep within. The mask he wore certainly didn’t help. In fact, it made him almost inhuman, like he was a vessel for something far more dangerous.

Eyes were the window to the soul, yet all you saw was an empty void.

Ghost’s shift in attitude seemed to transfer to the others. Next thing you knew, all eyes were on you, peering at you like a pack of wolves when an enemy entered their turf.

You felt severely underdressed. You weren’t much of a sight in your old rags, but now, clad in Price’s sheer clothes that ended near the knee with Soap’s new shoes clinging to your feet, you felt a sense of embarrassment.

The men were dressed appropriately, white shirts with billowy sleeves down to their wrists, heavy coats with a dizzying amount of buttons undone that fell to their knees, as well as classic breeches and thick boots. The colors were bland, yet the jewels they displayed were beyond comprehension.

You hadn’t taken much notice before of the extravagant gems.

Soap adorned that of sapphire, dangling from his neck and worn along his fingers. The blue glinted in the dim sunlight that peeked through the windows of the dining hall, shining brightly.

Gaz wore ruby, the deep red jewels clashing with his clothes and skin near perfectly. It accented the warm tone of his eyes that stared back at you, swirling with uncertainty yet a hint of curiosity.

Price preferred pearls, and it made complete sense. He was Captain, and pearls were the heart of the ocean. The waters were his home, and he held a piece of it wherever he went.

Ghost’s jewelry was the one who mirrored him completely. Black onyx, glistening on nearly every finger, paired with silver bands that held the precious jewels. The only difference was the single skull ring that stuck to his ring finger, staring back at you tauntingly.

You felt like a parasite in comparison. Jewels were something you could only dream of.

“Hungry, dove?” Gaz broke you out of your trance, raising his eyebrows at you. His tone was soft, holding no previous resentment. The man was a mystery, picking and choosing when to butt heads with you or express his displeasure. Yet not, it seemed that had all begun to melt.

“Quite,” you murmured in response, shifting uncomfortably from where you stood. You made no effort to sit next to them, deeming yourself unfit and unwelcome.

Gaz stood in an instant, leaving the table and fluttering to the kitchen. Your eyes followed, watching the swinging doors sway behind him as he disappeared.

“Sit,” Price gruffed, nodding his head to an empty seat across. You stared for a moment, unsure, before hesitantly taking the seat next to Soap.

Soap had said nothing yet, but his eyes never left you — or more specifically, your feet. The shoes, the one he’d specifically sought out for you that fit perfectly on your feet. They were a nice gift, despite the events that transpired after.

“They fit,” Soap stated, finally looking up at you when you sat. You gave him a brief nod, eyes peering down at the table. “Do ye like ‘em?”

You shifted your toes in the shoes, wiggling them around in the bit of space left. They felt comfortable and they’d protected your feet from the splintered wood of the ship when you made your way to the dining hall.

“I do,” you confessed quietly.

You felt strange. You felt almost shy, as if nervous to disappoint Soap.

His face broke out in a boyish smile, seemingly pleased with both himself and your answer. “I’m glad,” he sighed in relief, returning to his meal.

Price and Ghost remained quiet, though Ghost continued to stare. It was harder than before. Now, it felt more like a glare. You could practically feel the intensity of it toying with you.

You risked a glance at him, which only worsened the hit. In an instant, his eyes narrowed, a growing fire burning fiercely. It caused you to feel unsettled, and you wondered what you had done to make him agitated.

Sure, he wasn’t nice before. He was an angry brute from the very beginning. But it had never been this… personal.

The table shook when Soap knocked Ghost’s shin under the table. Ghost’s head whipped over to switch his glare to Soap, who only gave him a warning look in return. Price, seeming bored and rather used to the banter, simply sipped at the drink in his cup.

“Don’t mind him,” Soap dismissed sheepishly. “He’s just…”

“Jealous?” Gaz mused from behind you, and when you turned to look, he was holding a plate of hot food. He placed it in front of you before taking a seat on the other side of you.

Ghost let out what sounded like a scoff, muffled under his mask. He stood from the table, the force of him shaking it once more, before he set off to the upper deck without a spared glance.

Jealous? That was a strange way of describing what you witnessed. What Ghost held seemed far from jealousy, and resonated more with hatred.

“Jealous is a nice word,” Soap hummed, stabbing his food with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

“Why would he be jealous?” you asked hesitantly. “Are you…?”

“Aye, that’s complicated territory yer gettin’ into, dove.” Soap gave you a grin, full of food. You grimaced, resorting to your own food.

The three men fell into simple conversation while you remained the outsider. It was how it had been up until this point, something you were growing used to. After all, you were still a prisoner, even if you had a shed of freedom now, and you were still supposed to resent them.

“Awfully quiet today, dove,” Price said. His tone held no mockery. “You had quite a lot to say last night.”

Images of last night flashed through your mind, the ones where the two of you came to an agreement of getting along. No bad blood, as he said.

Quite a bit had happened last night. So quickly, too. One moment you were in the cell, awaiting a punishment for a failed attempt at fleeing their crew, then the next you were bathed and asleep in Price’s bed. Now, as the morning came, you were offered a meal rather than more unkindness.

You wondered if it was all a test. You had even snooped through the map laid out on Price’s desk, memorizing the poem scribbled on scratch paper. It seemed all meticulously planned, and you prayed it wouldn’t be your downfall.

“I have nothing to offer to the conversation, Captain,” you replied meekly. “I am quite bland.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” Price mused. “You were rather witty last night with your jest.”

“A jest?” Soap piped in, curious. “Ye got her to joke with ye, Captain?”

“Aye.” Price nodded. He crossed his arms, leaning back on his chair. “She’s a part of the crew now, after all. Isn’t that right, Soap?”

There was unspoken conversation between the two men. Gaz seemed just as lost as you, before something dawned on him. You remained clueless, separated from a secret agreement.

“Aye,” Soap agreed with a nod. He seemed prideful of something, but that you weren’t sure of.

Had they spoken of things without you? Perhaps it was the reason Price let you off so easily. Where you were expecting to be lashed out upon, angry words of your stupidity spewed your way, you had gotten a softer side of Price. An understanding one.

You sat dumbly, confusion evident on your face. Your mind swirled with every possibility of what they could mean, but nothing useful popped up.

You felt like a fool. You were a pawn in a game, and this you knew from the beginning. It had everything to do with your capture and the hidden reason as to why.

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

The answer was right in front of you, yet it felt impossible to grasp.

“You will stay with Soap and Gaz tonight,” Price said. You were zoning out quite a lot today. “I have business I must attend to in my quarters.”

You blinked at the Captain, turning your head to Gaz. You couldn’t fathom Soap having an issue with the arrangement, but Gaz was a unique case. You weren’t friendly, nor were you enemies.

Ever since throwing your food on him nearing the first nights, there was an awkwardness, but it certainly wasn’t bitter. It simply felt like two people who had gotten off on the wrong foot.

Gaz stared back at you before turning away. You weren’t sure how he felt about you staying in his quarters. He didn’t make it obvious.

You just hoped it wasn’t as awkward as it was right now.

Gaz and Soap came to collect you when the night began to fall. Price had let you bathe once more before sending you off, where the two men stood waiting for you outside.

“Hello, dove,” Soap greeted warmly. He seemed bashful that you were staying with him.

He was a strange one, for sure. He was also the most welcoming from the jump.

You didn’t let it fool you, though. You’d seen a side of him when you ran from him during your time on shore, and you knew he had a personality that made him the feared pirate he was, just as the rest of them.

Gaz offered you a nod in greeting, and you gave one back.

The two guided you across the deck and to the other side of the ship. It was quiet between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or strange. What was strange was sharing a bed with two grown men.

“Come in,” Gaz said quietly, opening the door to their quarters and allowing you in first. It was gentlemen-like, which was unforeseeable coming from his background, but you took it with grace.

The quarters were much more cluttered than Price’s, and you safely assumed it was from Soap. Gaz didn’t seem the messy type, though you could be terribly wrong.

“Sit,” Soap ordered, grabbing you by the shoulders and plopping you down on the edge of the bed. You watched as he shuffled into a small closet, your ears picking up on ruffling fabric.

Gaz stood silently, deep in thought. You didn’t bother to ask.

“Here ye go, dove,” Soap offered, returning with new clothes.

Would this be a pattern?

“Will I be using all of your clothes?” you asked, taking the folded shirt and placing it in your lap.

“We will get you new ones soon,” Gaz replied. “Once you don’t wish to flee again.”

Soap snickered, finding it amusing while you mulled in your own humiliation. At least they were being humorous rather than crude.

“Understood,” you grumbled with a small huff, standing with the shirt in hand. The room stood still while the three of you stared, shifting between each other. “I’d like to change now.”

Soap’s mouth gaped, before he sputtered out an apology. Gaz scruffed him by the collar, dragging him out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your thoughts wandered as you changed into your fresh shirt. While you would’ve worn Price’s shirt some more, used to the old rags you collected grime in in the beginning of your capture, being offered new clothing for a second time was nice. It was kind.

You didn’t like to admit it, but despite weeping bloodshed and performing heinous acts upon the innocent lives of those on islands, such as your own people, they really were just… boys.

Boys with a sense of wonder, a sense of joy that was smothered by their titles.

They were still guiding through the world in their short lives, learning how to live as people. Just as any other. It was their first time living, too, even if their actions could be cruel at best.

When you stepped out of the room to let them know you were finished, you only found Gaz,

leaned up against the wall. He spared you a quick glance upon seeing you, offering you another nod like before.

“That certainly fits better than Captain’s,” he murmured, acknowledging the shirt that didn’t quite reach your knees anymore.

“Yes, it will do,” you replied quietly. Your hands fumbled in front of you, that familiar awkwardness filling the air.

With Soap, it was easy. With Price, it was witty. Ghost was an entirely other story.

But Gaz? Why did it have to feel so strange? Like a lingering cloud of tension?

“I am grateful to the Captain for allowing me a chance of redemption after I… fled,” you continued.

The sparkling of stars shone brightly above the two of you, and you made your focus on admiring them rather than on Gaz.

“I don’t know how he did it, but Soap convinced him of your worth in all of this.” Gaz joined you in staring up at the night sky, his fingers picking at the loose string of his shirt where it remained untied by the collar. “We fucked up your life, after all. That’s on us.”

“Soap?” you asked, baffled. “What does he have to do with it? The Captain came to me willingly.”

Gaz turned to look at you, his head cocked in confusion. You mirrored him, eyebrows pulled taut.

“He spoke highly of you after you attempted to flee,” he explained carefully. “Price was angry with you. Soap was your voice of reasoning. Even got me on your side, too. I had my reservations at first for obvious reasons.”

Ah, so he was still bitter about the porridge you’d thrown at him.

You allowed his words to digest, letting them sink into your bones and simmer. All this time, you thought they thought of you in disgust. You were an inconvenience.

Except… you weren’t. They had their formed opinions on you, but you were clearly worth more than they let on. It was why you were spared, why you weren’t rotting away to flesh and bone in their brig.

All along, you thought they simply hated you, that they were unkind, mean pirates.

But just as you thought moments ago — they were boys deep inside. Human. Navigating through life without a compass or map.

“With time, things will begin to connect,” Gaz continued, voice softer. “We are not as cruel as you may think. There are far bigger fish out there, and they are much, much worse.”

You prayed that you would never have to face it, for as long as you remained on this ship.

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dreamauri · 11 days ago

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♪ — 𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 max verstappen x fem! girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . Max Verstappen has a habit of never letting go—literally. Whether it’s galas, lazy days on yachts, or even a quick grocery run, his hand is always in yours ( 1k words )

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

Max Verstappen had always been confident, composed, and annoyingly good at everything he did. But when it came to you? Oh, Max had one tiny quirk that you couldn’t help but notice. He never—ever—let go of your hand.

At first, it was sweet. Cute even. A little handhold in the paddock, fingers brushing together as you walked to the grid. But now? It was everywhere. Grocery shopping? Hand in hand. Movie nights? His fingers laced with yours under the blanket. Brushing your teeth? He'd stand there, holding your hand, toothpaste dribbling down your chin because you were laughing too hard.

Even now, as you sat on the couch, trying to scroll through your phone, Max sat beside you, one hand holding yours tightly while his other absentmindedly flicked through TV channels.

“Max,” you teased, wiggling your fingers in his grip, “you know I’m not going to disappear, right?”

He didn’t even glance up. “I know. But why risk it?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. It wasn’t that you minded—it was just amusing how attached he’d become.

“Do you want me to get you anything from the kitchen?” you asked, attempting to pull your hand free.

“Nope.” His grip tightened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to say nice try.

“Okay, but I can’t exactly carry snacks and drinks with one hand.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Max—”

He was already up, your hand still in his as he followed you into the kitchen. You made a point of bumping him with the fridge door as you opened it, but his grin was nothing short of smug.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bedtime was another ordeal entirely. Max seemed to think the best way to sleep was to intertwine himself with you like a human pretzel. Tonight was no different.

As you shifted to get comfortable, Max’s hand found yours under the covers. His arm draped lazily over your waist, pulling you closer.

“Max, I’m overheating,” you groaned, trying to wiggle away.

He only hummed in response, his lips brushing your temple. “You’re fine.”

“No, really, I might combust—”

“Shh, I’m comfy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, giving up the fight. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hand in return. “Maybe.”

The next morning, you woke to find Max already up, scrolling through his phone with your hand still in his.

“How do you do that?” you muttered groggily.

“Do what?”

“Never let go, even in your sleep.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Practice.”

You couldn’t even be annoyed—it was too cute. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

“Adorable?” he echoed with mock offense. “I’m the reigning world champion, liefje. I’m not adorable.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, tugging on his hand. “But I know the truth.”

And as he grinned down at you, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, you decided you wouldn’t have it any other way.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The gala was every bit as glamorous as you’d imagined—long, flowing dresses, sharp tuxedos, and enough champagne to fill a swimming pool. Max, as usual, looked effortlessly handsome in his tailored suit, but his accessory of choice wasn’t the Rolex on his wrist. No, it was you. Specifically, your hand.

He had barely let go of you since you stepped onto the red carpet. Even when you stopped to take photos, Max’s fingers stayed firmly entwined with yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as if reassuring himself that you were still there.

“Max,” you whispered as you reached your table, smiling politely at the other guests. “You can let go now.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Why? You planning to run away?”

“No, but I might need both hands to eat,” you teased, holding up your clutch in your free hand for emphasis.

He sighed dramatically but let go—only to place his hand on your thigh the second you both sat down. You shot him a look, and he grinned unapologetically.

Throughout the night, Max found creative ways to keep touching you. Whether it was holding your hand during conversations, tucking your arm into his while you walked around, or resting his palm on the small of your back when you stepped away for a drink—he was relentless.

By the time dessert was served, you leaned over to him, your voice low. “You know, you’re setting a high bar for clingy boyfriends everywhere.”

“Good,” he replied, kissing your temple. “They should all know how it’s done.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You weren’t sure who had come up with the brilliant idea to spend the day on a yacht, but it turned out to be the perfect way to beat the heat. The Mediterranean sun was shining, the water was crystal clear, and your group of friends was already laughing and diving into the waves.

Max, of course, had other priorities.

“Come on,” you called over your shoulder as you made your way to the edge of the boat, a grin on your face. “The water’s amazing!”

“Wait,” Max said, reaching for your hand.

“Max,” you laughed, spinning around to face him. “I’m not going to drown. You don’t have to hold my hand for this.”

He looked at you, completely serious. “What if you slip? Or hit your head? Or—”

“Max,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’ll be fine. Besides, you’re coming in right after me, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Then let go so I can jump!”

Reluctantly, he released your hand, but not without muttering, “Two seconds. I’ll be right behind you.”

True to his word, Max was in the water less than five seconds after you hit it, his strong arms wrapping around you the moment he surfaced.

“See?” you teased, water dripping down your face as you pushed his wet hair back. “I’m fine.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he said, holding you close.

When you both climbed back onto the yacht, Max dried off quickly before grabbing your hand again, guiding you to a sun lounger. You didn’t even bother fighting him anymore.

“You know,” your friend quipped, grinning at the sight of Max’s fingers intertwined with yours, “it’s like he thinks you’re going to float away if he doesn’t hold on.”

Max looked up, completely unbothered. “You’re not wrong.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he kissed your temple again. “Well, at least I’ll never get lost.”

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malum-forev · 10 months ago

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Dr. Bee

Summary: Bucky has quite the reputation but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

Bucky x Nurse!Mom!Reader

Bucky Barnes has many names. James Buchanan Barnes, Buck, The Winter Soldier, Sergeant.

But on compound grounds, and in hushed tones, he’s usually called an asshole.

He’s developed quite the reputation. Being difficult is his natural state of being.

Bucky is constantly late to meetings, doesn’t show up for media days and is always going rogue in missions.

He doesn’t know why he does it, Dr. Raynor says it’s a coping mechanism, but that doesn’t make Bucky want to change one bit. He stays away from people and makes it everyone’s problem when someone decides to talk in his vicinity.

Sam has tried to talk to him but, as per usual whatever the Falcon says, Bucky does the opposite. Sam’s even tried to convince everyone that Bucky’s like an untrained dog, he needs some kind of exposure therapy. Having people stand up to him and flat out call him what he is, that’s what he needs.

Sadly for everyone who works with Bucky Barnes, no one has the balls to do it.

But, everything changed one day.

Everyone scurried away once the quinjet landed at the Avengers compound. They’d gotten word from someone in Logistics that the mission had gone terribly and the agents had barely come out alive.

Bucky stormed into the med bay, his heels digging into the floor with such force you’d think it break, only to find it desolate.

He huffed twice, looking around for anyone who could help with a deep cut on his right arm.

“Hello?!” He yelled out, his temples throbbing and his left eye twitching.

Bucky Barnes waited for no one.

“May I help you?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed at the meek voice coming from behind the nurse’s station. His confusion only grew deeper when he didn’t find anyone there.

A few seconds later a tiny hand popped up, wiggling its chubby fingers at him.

“I said,” The little voice drew out the last word, annoyed. “May I help you?”

Bucky leaned forward and peeked behind the large desk to find a little girl.

Standing with her hands on her hips, the little girl with pigtails looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

Her expression turned to one of concern.

“Are you hard of hearing?” The girl spoke slowly and loudly.

Bucky almost had to cover his ears from the shrill and very high tone of the girl.

“I am not hard of hearing.” Bucky finally responded.

“Then why didn’t you respond?” Little miss pigtails crosses her arms over her chest. “I asked you: may I help you?”

His right eye accompanied his left one in twitching.

After he didn’t respond, the little girl scribbled something down on a paper in front of her.

“What are you writing?” Bucky said through gritted teeth, how can a person so small get on his nerves so quickly?

“I can’t tell you.” She said in a singsong tone.

“Why not?”

“You’re not my patient.” She shrugs, rounding the nurse’s bay holding a pink unicorn lunch box, coming face to face with The Winter Soldier. Actually it was more like coming face to knee height. “Can’t talk to people who aren’t my patients. Doctor patient villigage.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip to conceal a smile. “I think you mean doctor patient privilege.”

“How would you know? You’re not my patient.” The little girl swung her lunchbox, skipping all the way to the waiting room.

He was equally shocked and impressed. This little girl had more balls than most of the agents he worked with.

Bucky looked around the med bay for anyone who knew the girl. Mom, dad, cousin, hell he’d even settle for a dog.

With a groan, he followed behind her. Sure, he was a dickhead but he couldn’t let a kid wander around the Avengers med bay all by herself.

She sat down, opening the lunch box and taking the contents out.

Bucky couldn’t help but think it was cute how her feet didn’t reach the floor. As he came closer, her swinging feet hit him in the shins.

He let out an obviously fake and over the top groan, throwing himself on the floor.

The little girl covered her mouth but her giggles bubbled around the room.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Bucky asked from his position on the ground. “That really hurt.”

“No it didn’t!” She laughed harder.

“Yes it did!”

“I know nothing can hurt you!” She said as her giggles died down. “I know who you are.”

“You do, huh?” Bucky sat next to her.

“Mhm.” She said proudly, taking a bite out of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “But my mommy says I can’t repeat the names she calls you.”

Bucky suddenly felt embarrassed. Dickhead, motherfucker, bastard, asshole had a whole different meaning now that he knew the little girl thought they were synonymous to Bucky.

“Well then,” Bucky cleared his throat. “I should reintroduce myself. My name is James Buchanan Barnes but people usually call me Bucky.”

The little girl placed her tiny hand in his and shook it. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name so, you can call me Bee.”

Bucky nodded his head once, he almost didn’t notice the peanut butter she’d smeared on his hand. “Well Bee, does you mommy or daddy work here?”

Bee shrugs her shoulders. “Can’t tell you.”

He takes a deep breath in. “Can you tell me how you got here?”

“Nope.” She takes another bite of her sandwich.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been here?”

“Nuh uh.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “Is this because of the doctor patient privilege?”

“Yep.” Bee smiles up at him and this time Bucky can’t help but smile back. A blooming feeling erupted in his chest.

Bucky looked down at his hand, trying to find his most surface level wound. Something that wouldn’t traumatize the girl who’s no more than seven years old.

“Dr. Bee, I need your help. Do you have anything for this cut?” Bucky points to the small cut on his knuckle. She didn’t have to know how it came to be, or who’s cheekbone had caused it.

“Thertainly Mr. Bucky.” Bee’s missing front teeth were responsible for her lisp. She jumped off of the chair and hurried behind the nurse’s station.

She swiftly wrapped his knuckles in gauze.

“Do you need me to look over your other arm?” Bee asked sincerely.

“I don’t think you can help with this one.” Bucky chuckled, knocking on the vibranium. “Unless you have anti rust spray.”

Bee threw her head back with laughter but the cute sound was cut short by a door slamming open.

His mind went blank the second he saw her. Bucky couldn’t peel his eyes off of her, even his jaw went slack. He tried to memorize every single detail of her. Her hair, her eyes, her body, the blue scrubs she wore.

“Bee!” She gasped, taking the little girl in her arms. “You almost gave me a heart attack, I told you to stay in the common room!”

“Don’t worry mommy!” She smiles up at the woman who’s taken Bucky’s mind hostage. “I’ve been with Bucky!”

The woman finally looks over at Bucky and he’s sure the world has stopped.

But reality comes crashing down when her eyes lose some of their light.

“Mr. Barnes.” She gasps, pulling Bee to stand behind her body. “I’m so terribly sorry about her, she wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bucky gulps down the nervous feeling in his throat. He can’t help but feel like the biggest idiot in this universe.

All he’s done for the past few years is be cold, and rude, and now the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, who’s got the cutest most outspoken daughter in the tri state area, is apologizing.

His brain runs out of words and he just stands there.

Bucky keeps quiet as the woman sutures up the wound on his arm, he’d completely forgotten about it.

“Bee’s your daughter?” He manages to speak up after a few minutes.

The woman nods with a smile, keeping her eyes on his wound but Bucky begs the cosmos she looks up at him, even if it’s just for a second. He wouldn’t care if she messes up, if it means their eyes could meet.

Bucky’s kept himself away from feelings for years. He convinced himself he doesn’t need them. But in a quick thirty minutes, Bee and her amazingly beautiful mother have stirred up more emotions than he’s had in the last two decades.

“She-“ Bucky clears his throat. “She mentioned you’ve got a wide array of names for me.”

Her cheeks burned red. “Bee must be mistaken, she’s got a crazy imagination. Always coming up with the strangest things-“

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “I’m used to it.”

The woman gulped, finally looking up at him.

“I’m really sorry about the names.” She whispers.

“It’s okay, darling.” Bucky’s eyes travel from hers to her lips. “But for next time, ‘Bucky’ is just fine.”

She nods, looking back to his wound.

“And you are-“

“(Y/n).” She says.

Bucky’s sure he’s never heard someone with a name as beautiful as hers.

“You’re all patched up.” (Y/n) takes a step away from Bucky. “I’ll finish your report, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

Bucky stumbles on his feet as he stands up. Embarrassed, he walks straight to the door but stops before leaving the medbay.

“(Y/n)?” He turns on his heel. “Would you please tell Dr. Bee I appreciated her help?”

The light in (Y/n)’s eyes returned as she nodded.

Bucky left the med bay feeling lighter than ever before and he couldn’t help but think a certain little bee had everything to do with it.

Comments and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago

Text

“Lord Sukuna!” A man screamed before immediately bowing before him, Sukuna walking in his true form didn’t bother to look down. You walked behind him looking straight ahead holding Yuji’s hand. Yuji was smiling bright holding a sparkler that hadn’t been lit, you didn’t miss the smile and women who looked up at you with kind eyes and the kids who peaked at Yuji giggling as he waved his chubby hand sparkler shaking around and they waved back.

Treated like Royalty out of fear of The King of Curses, Uraume continued walking behind you with your Lady in waiting. Stopping when Sukuna had finally situated himself on the Platform reserved. It over looked the area, the festival to commemorate the ending of the year. You slowly sat beside Sukuna when he motioned you over with a look. Yuji sat to your left quickly changing to squish himself between you and his dad. Both you and Sukuna shifted over to make room for him as he started rambling about all the lanterns and games, asking if he could go. You looked at Sukuna, he seemed unsure before Uraume suggested it might not be a bad Idea, “Lord Sukuna, Surly no one would want to cause a massacre on the day of the coming new years.”

Sukuna looked at you and you looked at your son, Yuji was trained on his dads face with a pout and those big pleading eyes, Sukuna turned away with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll be here, come back when you’ve had your fun.” Yuji’s quick smile turned into a pout “daddy’s not coming?”

Sukuna felt the tug on his robes, he refused to look knowing he’d gave if he saw his soon looking up at him with teary eyes, but also couldn’t stand to look like a spineless fool for playing those pointless games.

“Cmon baby,” you picked up Yuji kissing his round cheek, “Daddy’s busy,” you stood carrying him with you, “He’ll come later when HE HAS TIME.” You emphasized the words looked past Yuji at Sukuna, nodding your head to Yuji who hugged your neck resting his head on your shoulder pouting. You mouthed to Sukuna “HE WANTS TO BE WITH YOU” Sukuna looked away, you rolled your eyes and nodded at Uraume, their faint smile hinted they understood as they gave a slight nod, your two ladies in waiting quickly followed you when you started your walk with Yuji. Making it to the stalls looking down at Yuji he had a pout as he looked straight ahead, squeezing his hand he looked up at you and you smiled, “you said you wanted to try some of the foods let’s get you some okay?” His eyes shining when he looked up at you with a smile, “Yeah!”

Asking your ladies in waiting to get a place ready you went around with Yuji ordering a few things from different stalls. Yuji sat down beside you swinging his feet, peeking on the table at all the snacks the Ladies in waiting were laying out. “It looks funny.” Was all Yuji said as he picked up fried squid on a stick, brushing his hair back you kissed his forehead, “It does look funny but you should try it.”

Yuji quickly bit into the squid and seeing his face you stuck your hand in front of him just as he spit out the squid, “..ɴᴏ…” you tried not to laugh at Yuji while you let him sip your tea. Your lady in waiting wiping your hand clean as you helping Yuji go through Daifuku, Taoyaki, Mochi, Taiyaki, Dorayaki, dango and Manjū.

“Aw my poor baby.” You cood hugging him while he sat in your lap, he laid back against you whining tummy round with the sweets he was eating. Softly laughing at how his head fell to the side looking at the dango he weakly lifted, the Sakura flavor half gone, the plain white one had a small nibble, the green one had teeth marks in it where he bit into it but didn’t like it. “‘m full mommy.” You squeezed him and he huffed wiggling around, “wanna play a game.” You let him slide down your lap as you started to get up. The ladies in waiting packing up the untouched food.

You followed Yuji adoring the way he waddled, he wouldn’t be your little boy forever, so you’d have to cherish it while you could.

Watching Yuji play goldfish scooping was the highlight of your night. He squatted there persisting he could win because he wanted to win a goldfish. After his 5th turn he looked up at you with teary eyes and a wobbly lip, you knelt hugging him and he sniffled, “wan a golfish for daddy..” you heart braking you nodded, “Let me try okay?” He looked up at you and nodded. You did your best and managed to meet this crooked booths rules and Yuji was able to pick a good fish to take home. He chose a black gold fish because “is the only one!”

Letting him walk around carrying the bag proudly you tried a few more games until it came to an archery target booth. Where he persisted he could make it, once again it took five tries. And he hadn’t made a single target. It was upsetting to see Yuji fail so many times, so you stood Yuji on the booth’s table top and stood him in front of you, you had never tried one of these but it was worth trying if your little boy wouldn’t be upset. You tried to guide his hands but the “kids” bow was entirely to tough for a child. Still you let him pull back the bow and tried to help him aim before you release you watched as the target was struck but an all to familiar flame. “Daddy!!” Yuji cheered turning around in your arms, looking for his dad. There stood Sukuna amongst the separated crowd, the booth vendor seemed frightened at the sight of your husband when he took the bow from Yuji, just like you low life useless humans, trying to justify yourselves and present yourself self righteous when your able to look a woman or child in the eye and lie to them for your own profit. If this hand been any other woman or child I wouldn’t have even looked in your direction,” he stretched the bow as it caught flames from his flame arrow, “But treating my wife and my son like low life scum is something else.” His snarl and low voice had the vendor shivering, “L-lord Sukuna! Forgive me if i had known-“ the man was shot dead and you didn’t let Yuji turn to look, “Now everyone knows.” Sukuna declared looked around, the entire crowd in agreement and fear in silence.

You let Yuji free when he jumped into his dad’s chest, Sukuna catching him with one arm moving him onto his broad shoulders, “Dad! I won you gold fish!” Sukuna got closer to the stand ripping down the tiger Plushie he knew Yuji wanted. He may not be openly affectionate always but he did understand and know how his son thought. Yuji hugging his dad’s neck when he took the plushie, and you showed Sukuna the black Gold Fish, Sukuna looked amused carrying the gold fish on the same side Yuji sat. He motioned you to his side with his free hand, you followed quietly listening to your son and husband idly chat about what Yuji had down the past 2 hours.

Finally getting back to the platform where Sukuna sat, you noticed a bit of blood shed not far, you blinked and looked at Sukuna who eyed you and shook his head no. Taking the sign you held silence and sat beside him, before laying Yuji across your lap, he whined and crawled over to Sukuna, sitting himself on his dads leg leaning his back against his dads propped leg looking to the sky, he was ready to see the lights he heard you talk about.

Talking quietly with Sukuna you watched as he rested his large hand on Yuji’s round tummy before resting a hand your side pulling you closer closing the space. You smiled resting your head on his shoulder looking up at him, he turned to look down at you. The fire works started and Yuji’s oo’ed and aah’ed talking about the colors and how loud they were. You smiled kissing his forehead. Before turning to Sukuna, “Another Year with my husband and our Son.”

He had a small smile, pulling you closer so he could kiss you, his hand moved down to your waist. Just as he kissed you he pulled away with a hearty laugh, “a new year with my wife and OUR children.” You looked confused before you understood “RYOMEN!” In disbelief you looked at your own stomach, “how?!”

He leaned back on one arm, “Oh I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded how or when,” the smug look on his face caused your face to heat up. You looked down at Yuji as if he were gonna save you from his dad, only for him to be sleeping and snoring softly laid out in his dad’s lap.

You smiled shaking your head while Sukuna laughed to himself holding you firm against him kissing the top of your head, “Happy New Years.” You mumbled before kissing his cheek.

———-

It’s a bit rushed but i wanted something for new years 🥹 Happy New Years everyone!

Tag List!

@sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @domainofmarie @satorisgirl

#sukuna ryomen #daddy sukuna #jjk anime #ryomen sukuna #sukuna thirst #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x wife reader #sukunas wife speaks #son yuji iadori #son yuji #yuji and mom reader #yuji x mom reader

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tiredofthehumanlife · 5 months ago

Text

Damn you Brisket Five

Barbie dolls:five hargreeves x gn! Reader

Word: 4.1k

Summary: you and five (also Diego) get into an argument and he leaves you in the subway to cool off ha makes you promise not to get in the train what happens next will shock you

Warnings: mentions of killing, set in s4 minus the cheating, you're in the wrong but are extremely hard headed and kinda mean to Five and Diego, you try to punch Diego, you're picked up by Luther, brisket Five is a flirty dick, you eat a sandwich that reminds you of your grandmas and I described a slight "memory" so it might not match with anything you've experienced, one or two sex jokes I think but I idk, it's unclear where you are in the plot but it's not all that important, one mention of vomiting and stomach uneasy, Five's a little jelly

Inspired by: this and this

You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration. Allison pointed at you in agreement, looking around your circle as you all argued.

“This is stupid; why can’t we go back in time and kill Jennifer? I’m sure she’s a sweet girl but we’re talking about the universe right now,” you said, looking around at the faces staring at you. Luther shook his head at you. Diego made a grimace, looking away from you entirely. Allison scrunched her nose. Lila flashed her teeth like an upset dog, staring down at her hands. Klaus snorted, somehow finding a joke in this. You look over at Five to find him pinching his brow.

“We are not doing that because that’s what the Commission would do. That’s not who we are.” Five said, agitation scaping at the sound of his words. You hummed.

”Well what’s your idea, genius?” You asked, getting tired of them pretending like they were picking out an ice cream flavor. Five looked up at you with furrowed brows.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He said, rubbing his lips together like it left a sour taste in his mouth. You rolled your eyes at him, looking around the group. Viktor held his finger up.

“I have an idea.” Everyone's eyes turned to him. “What if I just absorb all the marigold into my body and then get absorbed by The Durango?” You shook your head.

“No absolutely not.” You said, staring at Viktor to make sure he felt the sincerity in your voice. Luther scoffed.

“So you’re down to kill Jennifer but not Viktor?” Diego said, crossing his arms over his chest. You reeled back, looking at him to see if that really came from his mouth.

“Are you for real?” Diego gave a short nod. “Man fuck you.” You said before lunging at him. Diego pulled back, shocked at your sudden movement. Luther pulled you away, flinging you over his shoulder. He took three steps away from Diego so you couldn’t reach him even if you wanted to. You smacked Luther on his back while trying to wiggle out of his arms.

“Five control your partner,” Diego muttered. It sparked a few mummers of disagreement. Klaus grimaced at Diego. Allison reached over and smacked the back of Diego's head while Viktor whispered an ew. Five scoffed.

“Luther, put me down. Let me at him.” You whispered to Luther. Luther patted the back of your calf.

“No can do; you’re staying up there until you calm down.” You sighed at Luther’s words, giving up on getting out of shoulder jail anytime soon.

“Guys, what if we just all sacrifice ourselves to the Durango thingie?” Klaus asked, earning a unanimous no. You slumped against Luther, wishing he would just put you down already.

"Luther, turn around so I’m facing the group, would you?” Luther nodded, turning around so his back was facing the circle. You pressed your arms into his back, holding yourself up so you could make eye contact.

“What if we go back to where we had dinner all those days ago, use Five’s funky train? We go back to before Ben did his shenanigans; stop him; we don’t have this problem anymore.” You said, looking around the group to gain their reactions. Viktor raised an eyebrow, looking at Allison. Allison bit into her knuckle, staring at the floor to think it over. Five squinted his eyes at you. Diego started whispering to Lila. Klaus looked over to Five.

“That’s a possibility,” Diego said. Five shrugged.

“If Lila mimicked my power, we could most definitely get you all down there.” Five muttered. Luther gently set you down, turning back around to face the group. You straightened your clothes. You stood next to Five instead of Luther, still upset he basically put you in time out.

“Is that our plan?” Viktor asked. The group murmured different versions of yes. You glared at Diego.

“We have to stop home first, we can’t miss dinner with my family,” Lila said, glancing at Diego. You nodded, following after the rest of the group. You stopped by Diego, glaring at him.

“I really wanted to deck you. Still do.” You whispered. Five appeared next to you, grabbing your shoulder and steering you away.

“Remember who drives you around!” Diego yelled after you as Five directed you out of the house. You watched as he pulled you away from the group heading to the van, off to the side. You squinted at him.

“Just because I supported your idea does not mean I’m not still upset with you.” Five said, keeping his tone low. You furrowed your eyebrows. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing over at the van to see most of his family pressed to the window watching you two intently.

“Why are you upset?” You asked not understanding where this was coming from. Five sighed, reaching out towards you. His hands hovered over your elbows in an attempt to soothe you.

“It hurt me when you spoke to me like that. You were talking like we aren’t equals. I didn’t like that you suggested that we kill Jennifer. I didn’t like how you treated Diego back there. I understand you’re annoyed and frustrated, a little hard-headed, but I still think you should be respectful to the people around you.” Five said, holding up a finger after each item he listed. You pulled back.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the man who is regularly calling people names, and making insults? You’re the sarcastic pain in the ass.” You pointed at him. Five glanced at Diego and Lila joining the others in the car, pausing your conversation-argument so they didn’t hear.

“That’s different. I’m not blatanly trying to punch them.” Five pointed at Diego in the car like he was worried you’d forget. You scoffed.

“Oh, that’s rich.” You muttered. Five flung his hands out.

“How, tell me. How.” Five asked, getting more and more annoyed.

“You’re acting like I’m the worst person ever to swing on someone but need I remind you of your past job?” Five’s face fell before pulling into a grimace. He pointed his finger at you.

“I told you I didn’t enjoy the killing. Need I also remind you that you worked there as well?” Five asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You felt your heart beat faster as your anger grew.

“I never picked up a gun, you dickhead. I did paperwork.” You said, leaning closer, so he could feel the anger vibrating off your body. Five scoffed.

“You’re acting like you’re so much better than me, you ordered who got killed. You didn’t pull the trigger but you aimed. You’re just as much of a lowlife as I am.” Five held his arms out in a T-pose like he was saying, ‘This is it.’ You uncrossed your arms, holding them out to your sides. Five turned his back to you, facing the sky instead.

“That’s not what I said; this is just like what happened on the Kanas case.” You said, pointing in the direction of the van even though you weren’t sure if Kansas was that way. Five spun back around towards you, his jaw slack.

“You did not just bring up Kansas.” Five said in disbelief, staring at you. You nodded.

“I brought up Kansas.”

“Oh my- You and I both know that was not my fault. I thought we were past this?” Five said, grimacing at you. You shook your head, throwing your hands up.

“You never apologized.” You said, rolling your eyes. Five scoffed.

“Why would I apologize? It. Wasn’t. My. Fault.” You shook your head at Five. He huffed, spinning around again. You scoffed at him.

“You did the same thing there; you were acting like I was a horrible person. You started the argument. You almost got us killed, how is that not your fault?” Five groaned.

“Hey.. uh... you guys coming or what?” You heard Viktor yell from the van’s window. You and Five’s heads spun towards the van.

“Not now.” You both yelled at the same time, making Viktor turn the handle on the door as fast as he could to roll up the window. You and Five watched in silence as Viktor tried harder and harder to go faster. By the time it was closed, you two had taken a few breaths. You felt less radioactive but still pissed. Five sighed, looking up at you from staring at the ground.

“I think we both need to cool down.” Five muttered, reaching out for your hand. You grumbled before dropping your hand in his. It was seconds before you felt the sickness that came with Five’s jumps. You pulled away from him, finding yourself in his stupid subway.

“Damnit, Five. You know I hate that. I going to hurl.” You doubled over, supporting yourself with your hands on your knees. You took deep breaths while staring at the floor. You shrugged off Five’s hand when he tried to comfort you with a light back rub. You stood up straight when you felt your stomach settle. Five let out a sigh of relief.

“We both need to cool off, separate from each other. An hour or two tops. You can stay here, break shit. I really don’t care just do not get on the train. Okay? You have to promise me you won’t get on the train.” Five said, staring at you. You glanced over at where the train would be. “promise?” Five added when you were silent.

“Yeah, I won’t go on the train.” Five nodded before he blinked out again. You sighed, slumping onto the bench nearby. Maybe you should break shit. That vending machine was looking a little appetizing right now. You looked up at the loud sounds of the train screeching into your station. The train doors slid open, showing the very inviting subway seats that definitely wouldn’t hurt at all. You glanced over at where Five was standing. He technically wasn’t here. He did say it would be a few hours before he got back. Nothing was really stopping you from going inside. You didn’t even say ‘I promise’. So, does it count? You stood up from the bench, stepped onto the train, and settled into the seat across from the door.

The train lurched forward, making you glance around. You expected the train ride to be very short, only a few minutes, but you couldn’t fully get a feel for how long it had been. You got bored after a while deciding to find something to climb on. After failing to hang upside down four times, you got bored of that too. You laid across the seats on your back, closing your eyes to take a nap. Then the train stopped. You peeked an eye open, glancing around for monsters before sitting up. You stared at the door as it slid open.

Then, what you least expected, you saw Five. In his suit too. He walked past the open door before stopping at the window next to it. He backpeddled, staring at you with a confused face. Just as you were about to defend your case, he started running. away. His fancy shoes clicked on the floor as he ran. You stood up, chasing after him.

“Hey, man. I know the argument was kinda rough, but it wasn’t that bad.” You yelled after him. Five glanced over his shoulder, picking up his pace. He skidded around the corner, almost tripping on the way. You reached the same corner after a few seconds, stopping in the middle of the hallway. In the middle of the subway station was a diner. ‘Max’s Delicatessen’ over the door in big bold letters.

You picked up your pace, walking to the door and swinging it open. You stepped inside, ignoring the bell on the door. You stopped when you saw what was inside. There was one Five, out of breath and leaning on one of the tables. Probably the one you chased. Then every other customer and worker here was Five. They all turned around, pausing what they were doing to stare harder. You held your breath before spinning back around for the door.

“Oh no. Stay. Please?” You heard Five’s voice. It had already said no to him. You turned back around, not sure which Five spoke to you. One of them stood up from his seat, almost knocking over his coffee.

“How did you get here without your Five?” The standing one asked. You pointed behind you.

“Train.” You heard a few Fives snort, which you thought was odd because FIve liked to pretend he hated your pain-in-the-ass-ness. The Five you chased after, turned around to face you.

“Where’s your Five? Did he die?” He asked. You heard the Five next to him mutter something about being gentle.

“No, well, not right now. He hasn’t. He’s probably pouting in the car right now.” You said, stepping further into the restaurant. A Five sitting in the booth closest to the door gestured for you to join him. You sat down in the booth, still looking around at all the Fives.

“Pouting?” the runner Five asked. You nodded.

“We go into a fight, a stupid one might I add. He told me to cool off here in the subway. So he’s probably pouting right now.” The closest Fives around you hummed.

“Did you bring up Kansas?” The Five across from you asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Listen, he was being all picky about how I had to talk to people while arguing over how we should stop the world from ending. It’s ridiculous.” The Five across from you sighed. He reached across the table, holding onto your hand. He stared into your eyes.

“I have really bad news for you, you were a little out of line. Most of us have had the same or similar argument, and every version of you was just a little out of line. It’s nothing against you.” The Five across from you said. Runner Five slid into the seat next to the one holding your hand.

“When we figure out what to do with our apocalypse, we have to be respectful to everyone else. If we hurt any of our bonds it could cost us the world.” The runner Five said. You nodded, staring down at the table.

“Diego told my Five to ‘get me under control’ and he was all like judging me because I said we should just kill Jennifer-“ You heard the Fives around you hiss, covering their mouths with their hands. “Which isn’t the best idea but we don’t have a lot of options here.”

“That probably freaked out your Five. We want to have entirely different morals than the Commission did. Diego was out of line with those comments but I don’t know if you should’ve swung on him.” The Five holding your hand said.

“Well, I don’t know how to get back and apologize. I fully went on the train to spite Five.” You said, slumping in your seat. The Five holding your hand, ran his thumb over the top, comforting you just slightly.

“You don’t need to worry about getting back. Anytime now, your Five will come through that door and whisk you away back home.” The Five across from you said, before dropping your hand to pick up his coffee instead.

“In the meantime, Brisket Five here will make you a sandwich.” The Runner Five said, pointing at the Five standing behind the counter with an apron on. Brisket Five waved at you, before sending a wink in your direction. You felt your face warm, looking away from him to instead look at the table. A few minutes later, of you making small talk about different aspects of your life with the two Fives in front of you, Brisket Five came to stand next to you with a plate. He set it down on the table before leaning over the table to smile at you.

“It’s your favorite.” He muttered, making the other two Fives groan. You glanced down at it. It just looked like a regular sandwich with toasted bread to you.

“My favorite from where?” You asked, keeping your hands in your lap. Brisket FIve grinned at you, pushing the plate just a smidge closer to you.

“From your childhood. The sandwich your grandma made for you after a long day of playing in the sprinklers.” He said. You stared down at the sandwich, wondering if he was fucking with you. ”Try it.” You glared up Brisket FIve. He should know that you hate taking any orders from Five. He tilted his head down, staring up at you with blown-wide puppy eyes. ”Please.” he whispered.

Even the Fives from other universes knew you were weak for the puppy eyes. You sighed before picking up the sandwich. You held it steady in front of your face, still not so sure about it. You glanced at Brisket Five once more before taking a bite. You paused when you truly felt yourself transported back to your Grandma’s house.

You could feel her warm blue towel wrapped around your shoulders while your wet swimsuit was still sticking to you. You could hear her muttering about your grandfather leaving food in the oven. You could feel how the table was just a little too big for you, having to lean forward to reach over the edge. You could hear the ticking of her clock.

“I thought you were messing with me.” You muttered, looking up at Brisket Five. He puffed his chest out just a little more. He stood up straight, brushing off his apron.

“You should trust me more often, my love. I’m more than just a pretty face.” Brisket five said, placing his hands on his hips and shrugging. You glanced over at the other two Fives at your table, both glaring at Brisket Five.

“Fuck you, Brisket Five.” The runner FIve said.

“You should know their Five is still alive, you should cut back on the flirting.” The Five across from you said. You glanced at Brisket Five out of the corner of your eye before looking back to the other two.

“Off topic but who’s Max?” You asked before taking another bite of the sandwich.

“I am!” Someone yelled back behind the counter. You glanced over to see another Five raising his hand. You looked back at the Fives you had already met, confused more than when you found out there were more than two Fives.

“We are. Dickhead.” Brisket Five yelled back. Max frowned at Brisket Five.

“Get back to work, Brisket Five,” Five-Max said, before moving back behind the counter. Brisket FIve turned back around to face you. He winked at you again. He reached out and tapped your cheek with his pointer knuckle, giving you an odd sense of deja vu.

“Talk to you later.” He muttered before walking away to the counter. You shrugged, looking back at your sandwich.

“What. A. Dick.” Runner Five said. You hummed. Across-from-you Five grumbled while staring at Brisket Five’s back.

“Makes a damn good sandwich, though.” You added, sinking your teeth in again. You groaned at how good it tasted. You tossed your head back, staring at the ceiling. You heard the bell above the door ring. You turned around, looking at the door to see who it was.

In all his glory, was yet another Five. You squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. He caught eyes with you; he pressed his lips together and tilted his head in a ‘you really did this’ manner. You gasped, setting your sandwich down. You threw your arms up in the air.

“Five! Darling, I missed you.” You said, smiling brightly at him. A few heads turned back to see which Five you were talking to. Your Five walked over towards your table, sliding into the seat next to you. His hand inched for yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Thought you promised not to use the subway?” He asked, giving you a knowing smile. You tutted, shaking your head.

“I never said ‘I promise’. I just said I wouldn't which makes it a fib and not a broken promise.” You said, defending your case perfectly. Five nodded, and he leaned forward. He pecked your lips. Five lingered for a few seconds, his apology pressed between each other's lips. He pulled back and sighed.

“I’m sorry for being so dickhead-ish.” He muttered, knocking his nose against yours. You pulled back, shaking your head.

“No, you don't have anything to apologize for; I was the one being all dickhead-ish. I shouldn't have called you that anyway. I'm sorry. I should've treated you better.” You said, grabbing his other hand to hold as well. Five hummed.

“And Diego?” You scrunched your nose. Five raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I guess him, too. I’ll apologize later.” You turned back to your sandwich, taking another bite.

“And what about Kansas?” Five asked. You made a sad face, making quick work of the bite in your mouth.

“I shouldn't have brought up Kansas because we both know it's a sore spot for the both of us.” You said with a monotone voice, sounding like a tired robot.

“That was nice to hear.” Five said before knocking your cheek with his knuckle. You got flashbacks to seconds before when Brisket Five left back towards the counter.

“Oh, by the way, Brisket Five was flirting with me.” You said before taking another bite. Your Five stared at the side of your face in shock. He glanced over at the other two Fives at your table. They both nodded while you kept your focus on your sandwich. Five leaned over the edge of the seat to look over your head at Brisket Five.

“What. A. Dick.” Five muttered. You nodded.

“That's what I said.” Runner Five said, pointing at Your Five. You set down your sandwich, looking over at Five.

“Do we have to go now?” You asked, giving him your best version of his puppy eyes. Five shook his head.

“You can finish your sandwich and then we can worry about the end of the world.” Five said, kissing your cheek. Yousmiled and focused on your sandwich again. Five rubbed your knee and started a conversation with the other two Fives. By the time you had finished, Brisket Five came back to take the plate away. He sent you a grin and wink. Five reached over and covered your eyes with his hands.

“Go away, Brisket Five.” Runner Five said. After that you said goodbye to all the other Fives, telling them you'll be back real soon. Your Five held your hand, gently tugging you towards the door. Just as you were about to get out the door, Brisket Five appeared next to you. He held out a ball of foil that looked suspiciously similar to a sandwich.

“It’s another sandwich, cause I know you loved it so much.” Brisket Five said. You took it out of his hands, cradling it to your chest.

“Thank you, Brisket Five.” You whispered. Your Five stood behind you, pressing his hands into your back, and gently pushing you towards the door.

“Yeah. Thanks, Brisket Five.” Five repeated from behind you. You two were out the door in no time, Five leading you towards the train by your hand. As you waited for the train to pull in, you hooked your elbow with Five’s. You leaned up to his ear, kissing the apple of his cheek. You pulled back at the screeching of the train pulling in. You walked into the train car with Five, sitting down next to each other. He dropped his head onto your shoulder as the train pulled away. You rested your chin on top of his head.

“I love you.” He whispered under his breath. You weren’t entirely positive that he wouldn’t fall asleep on the ride home. You dropped a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you.” You hummed against his hair in response.

“More than Brisket Five?” Five asked. You glanced down at the sandwich in your lap.

“Have you thought about making sandwiches before?” You muttered. Five scoffed, reaching for the sandwich. You held it away from him, tapping his nose in a reprimanding manner. Five humphed.

“I’m going to kill Brisket Five.” Five whispered into your shoulder. You almost laughed at the feeling.

“Just keep his apron, it was kind of hot.” Five grumbled at your words. You gave him another kiss on his head so he was reminded that you were just joking. You thought about how you were going to apologize to Diego with words on the ride home. Diego apologized as well, bringing you a large plate of Lila’s family’s delicious food as an apology. Which you took very happily.

#five x reader #number five #tua five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #max hargeeves #max hargreeves x reader #tua #tua s4 #tua season 4 #tua spoilers #tua4

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holylulusworld · 3 months ago

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My lawn, my rules - Kinktober 15

Summary: Things get out of hand…

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, hate sex, vaginal sex, 69 & doggy style, knotting, biting, claiming (non-consensual in a way), I’ll label this one dub-con (just to be safe), enemies to lovers, fluff

Trope: Mating

Catch up here: Get off my lawn

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Oh, you will wash these with your dirty mouth…”

Bucky snarled when you tried to push your panties into his mouth. He grabbed your wrist, holding it in a tight grip before pushing you further inside his home. The alpha guided you toward his bedroom, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Get the fuck off me, Barnes. I’m warning you!” You snarled at him.

He only laughed and pushed you onto the bed. You bounced off the mattress, much to Bucky’s amusement.

“You’re going to be a good and obedient omega for me now.” Bucky pinned you down to the bed, holding you still. “You could be such a good mate.”

Bucky kissed your neck, teeth sinking into your skin, but you jerked away from him, trying to get his teeth out of your skin. “Stop fighting your alpha,” he said.

“Fuck you, misogynous asshole!” You screamed, pushing against his shoulders. “You’re not going to touch me, bastard.”

He grinned, holding you down tighter. “Not until you stop fighting your instinct, Omega. You’re meant to be mine and take my knot. I’ll not let you out of this bed before I bred this cunt.”

Bucky moved one hand to your chest, ripping the buttons on your sundress open to reveal your breasts to him. He immediately leaned over your body to greedily suck one of your nipples into his mouth.

You whined while hating yourself for feeling a pull toward the alpha you hate. He was having a blast biting your breasts, marking you up as you still fought your instinct.

“Fuck, I can smell your pussy,” he growled against your plush flesh, biting you again. You tried to push his head away and stop him from marking you even more. “I need to be inside of you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. No. You couldn’t let him mate you. That was the last thing you wanted when you came over to his place.

“No,” you snapped at him, wiggling harder to shake him off you. “Get off, you sick fuck.”

“I know you want me,” he purred against your flesh, soothing the bite marks with his tongue and lips. Bucky looked up at you from between your breasts, still that cocky grin on his lips. “I know you want me to fuck you too.”

“In your dreams.” You gasped when he wiggled out of his shorts, freeing his pre-cum leaking cock. “Creep…panties thief. Misogynist…” You choked out a moan when he settled between your legs and rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. “I’m warning you.”

Bucky smirked. He leaned over you, ignoring that you threw insults at him. The alpha silenced your potty mouth with his lips, earning a split lip because you bit him.

“Fucking brat,” he said, and slammed home with one hard thrust, making you keen. “Take it like a good omega should.”

“Fuck you! I hate you!”

“Of course you do,” he grinned. “You hate my big cock in your underfucked cunt.” His thrusts started slow, cock sliding in and out of your slick pussy. How you hated to hear the wet sound of your cunt sucking him in. “Look how well you can behave when full of cock.”

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging hard, making him growl. Bucky wasn’t used to a disobedient omega or to fuck the enemy. It only made him harder, though.

He grabbed your ass, moving your body up and down as he slammed into you again and again.

“Bastard,” you slapped his face and pushed against his shoulders. This wasn’t about mating; it was a fight for dominance.

“I'm gonna make you cum so hard you’ll lose your mind,” Bucky snarled. You wiggled beneath him, but the bastard was too strong to fight him off. “You’re going to beg for it,” he said, thrusting his thick cock inside your cunt.

“Shut up, asshole,” you snapped at him. “I’ll never beg you for shit!”

“I'm going to fuck you better than you've ever been fucked in your life, Omega,” Bucky said, his hands squeezing your ass.

“As if you could fuck me better than all the others before you,” you tease, earning a deep guttural growl from the alpha.

“We will see,” he snarled and pulled out to flip you over. You screamed and tried to scramble away. If you let him mate you like this, you’d end up with a claiming mark. “Hold still.”

Bucky slapped your ass, hard enough to make you yelp. “Or, do you like it rough?” he asked you, his hand coming down again. You hissed through your teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you whimper. “I knew you’re a kinky slut,” he told you while sliding his throbbing length back inside your heat.

You bit your tongue, forcing yourself to not moan, feeling his weight on top of you. Bucky pressed you into the mattress, growling like a feral animal as his thrusts sped up, your wetness squelching around his thick cock.

“Say you want me,” he hissed in your ear. “Tell me I’m the only alpha you want inside your sweet pussy.”

“No—” You shook your head, still in denial.

He stopped fucking you, cock buried inside you, and looked down at you. “You want me to make you mine, don't you?” he taunted. “I don’t care. You’re mine.”

“You're not done yet,” you said and tried to buck him off. He smirked at your words and started to thrust faster, his cock hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.

You were so close. So painfully close to your orgasm that you allowed yourself to meet his thrusts. Fuck, it was too late to stop now. Your body shook, feeling the spark ignite a raging fire, feasting on your dignity.

He groaned into your neck when his thrusts became more erratic. His warmth filled you, and you could feel it leak out of your spent cunt.

“Such a sweet omega now,” he laughed in your neck. “You took every droplet, my sweet mate. I only need to seal the deal.” You screamed in surprise, pain, and agony when his teeth suddenly sank into your mating gland. You couldn’t do anything but let his knot lock you together and Bucky sink his teeth deeper into your flesh to leave a permanent mark. “Mine,” he growled. “Only mine.”

“I hate you so much,” you snarled while wiggling in his embrace. “You ruined my life. What did you think? How can you claim me?”

Bucky smirked against your neck. He excessively licked the mark he left to help it heal. It looked perfect to him. This would keep any concurrent away from his omega. The mark and the fact you’d smell like him all the time from now on.

“I claimed my omega,” the alpha simply said and went back to nuzzling your neck and licking his mark.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, doll,” Bucky whispered. “I love even more how you feel around me and in my arms. I had a raging hard-on every day thinking about having you on your knees for me.”

“It’s not my fault that your alpha hindbrain doesn’t allow you to act like a decent person,” you huffed and tried to ignore that your bodies were still connected. Not only by his arms wrapped around you, but by his knot trapped inside your body. “Now, let me at least sleep.”

"Y/N, don’t be like this.” Bucky’s voice softened, and he nuzzled you again. “We are mates now. I’m not the bad guy you painted in your mind. All I wanted was to get your attention—usually omegas like a strong and cocky alpha. You did not. Most of the time you ignored me, so I had to rile you up to get you to talk to me.”

You huffed at his lame excuses. “Seriously, Barnes? What is wrong with your birdbrain? Why did you never try to court me instead of being the worst?”

“I wasn’t the worst,” he replied. “I offered you to wash my clothes. That’s proper courting an omega.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “That’s the worst way to court for an omega I ever heard of, Barnes. What did you think? That I’d grab your dirty underwear and wash it for you while sucking your dick?”

“Oh, you'd do such a thing?” He sounded serious, and that made you snort. “Just asking for a friend.”

“Just shut up for a moment,” you said and elbowed him in the stomach. “We have a mess to take care of, Bucky. You claimed me in the heat of the moment.”

This time, he snorts. “I didn’t claim you in a hurry.” He brushed his lips over your cheek. “I lured my omega in and made her mine. It was a well-laid plan. Now that I got you in my clutches, I’ll never let you go.”

“Maybe it was my well-laid plan to get you in my clutches,” you cooed. “We will see who’s in charge after tonight, Alpha.”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha!bucky barnes #a/b/o #teacher au #bucky barnes smut #kinktober vs flufftober 2024

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justporo · 1 year ago

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Who's the goose... (2)

...that's on the loose? GOOSETARION! The adventures of Astarion being turned into a goose continue. Will he behave or annoy someone so much that his delicate goose neck will be in danger?

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: So, here we are... with the second part to this unhinged little idea - I had a lot of fun writing this, although if I gotta write someone honking one more time... Well, I'd do it... This beautiful BEAUTIFUL artwork is once provided by the wonderful, beautiful and incredibly talented @azaani-art (you bless us, love! Thank you for allowing me to use this!). And also @the-littlest-raindrop - if you wanna read you'll know why I tagged you! Please all enjoy! I'm excited to hear what you all think!

Pairing: Goosetarion(Astarion)/GN!Tav (You)

Rating: Still stupid

Warnings: ankles in danger (you guys didn't think I'd be serious about this, right?)

Wordcount: 5k

~~~

The next morning the whole group sat around the giant wooden table in the main room of the inn. You were pretty sure you looked like you had slept in the gutter last night.

Beside you sat the goose, craning its neck at everyone at the table but for once pleasantly un-hoking. Even Goosetarion must have realised that honking the house down at this time of day would have probably gotten him his neck wrung faster than he could have jumped off the bench and waddled away. Or maybe it was lingering humiliation from when he had tried several times to jump up on the bench, fluttering his wings as if desperately trying to take flight. It had taken several more tries – and serious hissing from his side to bar you from just lifting him up onto the bench. And even when the goose had managed to get a high enough jump, it had face-planted onto the table nearly knocking itself out because it hadn’t anticipated the physics of the unfamiliarly long neck.

The others had to make a serious effort to not burst out laughing, but the violent threat in Goosetarion’s red eyes had shut them up quickly. Nobody really wanted to feel the goose’s wrath – or teeth for that matter.

Now you softly and absent-mindedly petted the animal with strokes from its head down to its back. Trying to make up for his hurting ego. The rump was very busy wiggling again.

You hadn’t slept awfully much last night as could have been expected. Of course, you had taken Goosetarion to your shared room. The staff at the inn had at first protested. But the fact that the others had quickly jumped in to declare the animal your “emotional support goose” and the fact that you really almost had started crying right then and there had been convincing enough to allow the goose in your room. Although you were of course given some serious side-eyes. But you couldn’t care less about people’s opinions at the moment.

You had sat down Astarion in your room, removed your armour and had sat down on the bed, sinking down against the headboard, face buried in your hands. Your feelings had still been very much on the verge of overflowing leaving you in a state of emptiness and tension all at the same time.

Only when you had heard some rumbling and strained croaks did you realise that you kind of had forgotten Goosetarion. But when you had opened your eyes, you already saw how the goose was hopping up on the bedframe and dragging itself up on the mattress with its wings, making what would have possibly been laborious groans normally. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but you were impressed, nonetheless.

Astarion wandered over to where you sat with drawn up legs and then jumped onto your lap without hesitation. Some struggle followed in which the two of you tried to get comfortable on the bed. Which resulted in you getting whacked in the face by Goosetarion’s splayed wings several times and him face-planting onto your chest about an equal amount of times while trying to move around, losing balance.

Finally, when you had all settled down, Goosetarion had been all cosied up on your lap and made a small honk while looking at you.

You had started stroking him again.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Astarion, but to be honest, you really had it coming.”

“Honk!?”

“Because you don’t just go around trying to steal from anyone who looks at you funny!”

“Honk!”

“Let’s just… hope this will all be over soon. I promise I’ll protect you and take care of you – no matter what.” You had embraced the goose, burying your face in its feathers for a moment and deeply wished that soon it would be your vampire again.

Goosetarion had carefully placed his small head on your shoulder and given a very soft little honk. The weight on your shoulder had been so light it had barely been noticeable at all.

And that is how you had slipped into your dreams sometime: Sitting up against the headboard, goose on your lap. Your head had fallen back in an awkward angle that probably hadn’t been healthy for your neck. And the goose had been mirroring you with its long neck and head fallen back on your shoulder. Surely a sleeping position no real goose had ever occupied.

But now you sat at the inn table having breakfast and talked with the others about what your plans for the day were. It was to be more walking and talking to people.

You were rather relieved because that meant that you wouldn’t have to think too much about how to take care of the goose. You’d just have him tag along and try your best to stop him from biting anyone’s ankles or getting his neck twisted.

The group set off once everyone had finished eating. You swung your legs over and got up. Astarion eagerly jumped down from the bench and honked at you demandingly, immediately earning a hush from Gale and a tchk from Lae’zel. The goose wasn’t bothered by it, just kept looking at you, now spreading its wings a little. He honked again. It was obvious he wanted to be carried and was very demanding about it.

“Is that your definition of asking nicely to be lifted up? Because if yes, you need to work on your attitude”, you scolded him while deep down you were surprised how the vampire so blatantly dared to hold on to his desire to be petty and sassy.

Another honk – challenging now. The goose glowered at you, for lack of a better description, and you glowered back.

Then you just walked off, following the others which had already left the inn. And you were swift. Leaving no choice to the goose but having to waddle behind you as fast as his rubbery feet would go or risk being left behind.

You gave in pretty quickly afterwards. And if only because Lae’zel was almost already losing her mind about how slow you were going to be with the goose walking beside you.

Goosetarion willingly and humbly let himself be lifted and carried around then without another complaint. Actually, you got the feeling he was getting a bit too used to that already.

“Enjoying the luxury of being carried around by your loved one, Astarion?”, Halsin asked the goose a while after you had left the inn and walked around the city. Goosetarion had stretched out his head and looked at his surroundings curiously and cautiously from his privileged position.

At the question the goose’s head – which was comically staying in place despite the walking movements – had swung around and the question had been answered with a short honk that you could only describe as sassy. Then Goosetarion had angled his head in a way that was way too much Astarion in nature than should have been possible. The druid laughed while you saw that Gale shook his head disapprovingly.

You squeezed the goose just a little: “Well, don’t get used to it, Astarion, this is a once in a lifetime occurrence.”

In reply you got a honk that sounded like a pout.

The first half of the day then was spent just like yesterday: tiresomely walking around, trying to strike up conversations with strangers to get some information without being too suspicious. Which was kind of a challenge when you were carrying around a goose that had to comment on almost everything despite no one fully knowing what it wanted to say.

Around noon you decided to take a break. You picked out what seemed to be a market place in full swing and settled down around the fountain in the middle. Each and every one of you had grabbed something from the market stalls to eat – pies, fruit, Karlach had even gone for a portion of spit roast.

At one of the stalls a huge-bellied man in a very grimy apron had way to keenly asked for how much you would sell the goose. Goosetarion’s head had yanked straight upwards, and he had immediately started to scream bloody murder (in goose) while you had turned him away in your arms – away from this shady looking merchant. Panic immediately had shot through you and your eyes had widened as you yanked the goose away and as far out of reach as possible.

“The goose is not for sale”, you had screamed hysterically in response.

“Unfortunate, how much good does it do if you’re only carrying it around? You all a bunch of leaf-eaters or what? This could be a nice dinner for my whole family!”, the man had yapped, obviously angry by your unwillingness to negotiate. You’d had your doubts about the family claim. Especially since you had seen the very suspicious looking dishes he seemingly had had to offer at his stall. They had all looked rank and the longer you’d stood there you’d also smelled their foulness. You hadn’t even dared to think about how old these must be.

“Istik, the bird is not for sale!”, Lae’zel had entered the conversation and drawn a dagger, taking a threatening step towards the huge man.

The other companions each all had taken up readied stances too – hands not too casually wandering to their weapons and stepping in front of you and Goosetarion in protection.

And thankfully, it had been left at that. The man lifting up his hands in defence as he had mumbled something incoherent and turned around again. Astarion had honked once more in victory (as if he had contributed to anything) and waved his head that would have normally swept his white curls back. As a goose it had just looked a bit delusional.

Now you sat on the cobblestone ground with Goosetarion on your lap. You had already gotten into a routine it seemed, it was awkwardly comforting. But somewhen when you were still nibbling on some apples and cheese, the goose wiggled off your lap. It seemed he was bored by just sitting around. Or maybe it was also that all of the group happily munching away had made him think of his own hunger that he was currently unable to satisfy.

He eyed the rim of the fountain suspiciously while everyone was busy chatting and eating. Only out of the corner of your eye did you see how he spread out his wings, his neck stretched out and started swinging – almost like a cat preparing to make a big leap somewhere.

Was he… was he trying to fly?

The goose made a leap, desperately flapped its wings and just for a tiny moment actually seemed to gain some air. But the moment passed as soon as it began and Goosetarion full on crashed into Lae’zel who had just gotten back from also buying a portion of spitroast. The githyanki had only just sat down when the goose fell onto her, almost causing her to drop her food.

Lae’zel immediately had her dagger out that - not so long ago- had been used to protect the same goose it was threatening now. The githyanki cussed out the animal that darted back to the safety of your lap much faster than you could have imagined. With desperate honking the goose jumped on your lap and tried to even climb up onto your shoulders. Lae’zel was still cursing and stepping closer, dagger in hand.

“Astarion! Lae’zel!”, you both called them out.

Goosetarion gave self-righteous honk while the fighter reluctantly sheathed her dagger again and went back to her lunch.

“And you are getting off my godsdamned shoulders, you silly goose, you’re too heavy!”, you added with some anger as Goosetarion was just about to figure out an even more privileged position. You shoved him off, causing him to croak in disappointment. And you made a point to ignore the annoying goose for some time after that, joining the conversation of the others – parenting measures.

So, Goosetarion got bored again with simply sitting around, waiting for you lot to get going again. He started to waddle around you and the other companions – as if he was deep in thought and tried to sort them out by wandering back and forth.

At one point a small child came by and interrupted him by pointing at him, loudly screaming “DUCKY” and then toddled away again. Goosetarion looked taken aback, honked in confusion and annoyance and then went back to his wandering.

Jaheira and you were discussing an action plan as to where to go next since you had the most knowledge of the city. Actually, Astarion would probably have had valuable input. But getting that input across was a bit difficult at the moment. He tried nonetheless.

The goose loudly honked when Jaheira proposed something and shook his head in a comical way then started to flail around his wings. The flailing and honking really did nothing though to get his point across. When Goosetarion noticed that you were all just staring at him in confusion he even looked like he was attempting to perform a face-palm. Then he gave up with another defeated honk.

The small child from before chose this particular moment when everyone was still staring at the goose to return. It was carrying quite a large piece of bread and from a few feet away hurled it at Goosetarion whose back was towards the child. “FOR DUCKY!”, it screamed while putting all its power into the throw.

Apparently at this young age the child was not yet very proficient with improvised throwing weapons because the throw went absolutely awry. Or rather, the child was in fact a prodigy because the piece of bread hit the goose squarely in the back of its head, making it squeak and lose balance.

The kid just laughed giddily and clapped its hands, hopping up and down. Obviously, it was expecting the “duck” to happily devour the generous offering of food now.

Goosetarion regained his balance quickly and turned around. He was dangerously silent.

You immediately felt the tension radiating from the small body, so you carefully got up. To be ready for whatever.

The goose stared down the child who was still jumping around cheerfully. But the longer “DUCKY” just stared at it, not moving, just with a lot of fury in its tiny red eyes, it realised that something was wrong. The kid calmed down until it looked downright frightened. You saw the child’s bottom lip starting to wobble, ready to start crying at any moment.

And then Goosetarion stormed towards the child, big wings spread wide, neck stretched out as far as possible and screaming as loud as his lungs allowed.

The kid started screaming as well and desperately tried to run away, almost stumbling over its own feet in the attempt to not get assaulted by the vicious goose.

You rushed after the murderous animal, trying to get to it before it could brutalise the child’s ankles. And thankfully Astarion was still not very adept to running around as a goose and you could easily catch up to him and grab him.

He desperately flapped his wings trying to free himself from your arms while still honking like mad. Your ears almost immediately started ringing. Incredible how much anger could fit into such a tiny body.

The child was already long gone and probably traumatised for life by this oversized duck trying to hunt it down. But Goosetarion was still livid even when you picked him up while holding him as far away from you as possible to avoid getting whacked by him again.

“Astarion, will you calm the fuck down?”, you yelled in between angry honking. You yourself were getting more than just annoyed by his behaviour – first he got himself into this pickle and now he caused even more chaos instead of sitting it out. There definitely was something to be said about the chaotic nature of geese and the vampire rogue fitting very well together.

The rest of the group had been watching the scene. Gale had his face buried in his hands. Most of the rest was at least silently snickering while Karlach was just very openly losing it again.

You sat the angry goose down on the stone rim of the fountain in an attempt to force him to calm down. “Time out, Astarion, godsdammit! Either you behave or I might be thinking about selling your poultry ass off, yet!”, you gave him the ultimatum and pointed a finger at him angrily.

He tried to snap at it. You could barely believe the audacity.

“For someone with so much neck to wrangle at the moment you should really be careful about who you piss off, Astarion”, Wyll said who was casually leaning against the fountain.

The goose stared at him. But Wyll just shrugged.

“Are we going to be nice now?”, you asked Goosetarion. The gaze of the red button eyes wandered back to you. The goose gave one more, curt honk, then settled down in a manner that made you think it would have crossed its wings over its chest in annoyed defeat had it been able to do so.

You stared at him angrily for a moment longer then went back to eating your scrawny lunch and talking with the others. You kept talking about different possible ideas on how to go forward. The goose meanwhile was brooding while sitting on the rim of the round fountain.

After a while, it seemed Goosetarion had enough of being well behaved and only listening while not being able to throw in his snide comments. He hopped off the fountain wall, specifically choosing Gale’s lap as a landing pad and making the wizard wince while the goose jumped off him and sauntered away.

He wandered around a little and honked dismissively when you told him to not to go too far. But for the moment you were already so fed up with him you really couldn’t care less.

The group finished up their lunch and decided on their plan. Then you all packed up your things and were ready to leave. And only then did you notice that the goose was nowhere to be found.

“Astarion?”, you asked and looked around. Some of the others had already started walking again.

“Was he not just wandering off towards some of the market stalls?”, Halsin asked. You simply nodded as you started looking around with rising panic.

“Yes, but I… I mean he wouldn’t have just left, right?”, you said as you ran from side to side and hoped to spot a feisty goose somewhere. You screamed his name again in hopes to get a honk in response. But nothing.

“You don’t think he would have wandered off just to spite us, right?”, you asked Halsin again. The druid in the meantime had shouted to the others to stop and come back.

“As much as I think that he likes to get on people’s nerves deliberately… I don’t think he would walk off and jeopardize his own safety – so no”, Shadowheart replied as she came back and caught on to what was happening.

“Well, then where could the little rascal have gone?”, Karlach asked in response.

A thought raced through your mind when she said that, and it hit you as you looked at Karlach.

“The suspicious merchant!”, you exclaimed and panic reached new heights within you.

“Let me just”, Gale started when he connected the dots and immediately started murmuring an incantation. Meanwhile the group had reassembled at the fountain and quickly was informed about what was happening. You stared at the wizard as he had gone silent and impatiently awaited the result of whatever it was he was doing.

The wizard’s eyes had lit up and he was focusing. Then his eyes flashed back to normal, his eyes found yours, worry flashing in them: “I feel him, he’s moving – quickly. And I’m pretty sure that is not goose speed.”

Your eyes widened when Gale confirmed your suspicion. You looked around at the others who mirrored your expression and without out a word you all readied to take on the pursuit.

“This way”, the wizard exclaimed with an outstretched arm, and you all started running.

You ran through the market and then through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, following whatever direction Gale gave you who was quickly out of breath but did his best to carry on.

You were already almost back at Wyrm’s Crossing – the houses a lot smaller and simpler here than the townhouses in the core city. And surely after a few minutes you could make out desperate honking somewhere in front of you. You closed in on the goose-napper!

When it seemed, you were only a corner away you already reached for your dagger – ready to do whatever it might take - but Wyll grabbed your hand. “Let’s be clever about this, let’s not risk that delicate goose neck being broken”, he said to you with a sympathetic glance. Reluctantly, you put back your dagger, at least for the time being.

You peeked around the corner and sure as all Nine Hells you saw the full-bellied man from earlier with a wiggling, struggling and screaming goose under his arms turn another corner. From there on out you followed the villain with some distance to avoid him noticing your little rescue party.

You followed him up to a little free-standing wooden house. It was old and shabby and made you further suspicious of him. What kind of shady business could someone possibly be up to in there?

You saw how he was putting some stuff down in front of the porch of the house, then went inside with the screaming animal still under his arm.

Again, you were ready to just go and immediately tear this house down. You were almost blind with your fear and worry for Astarion and with white-hot rage. But again, Wyll grabbed your arm and made a motion that conveyed that you should walk around the house.

Very impatiently you nodded, and you all snuck around the house which was barely a step up from a shack. From the inside you could actually hear the excessive honking of the goose now. Your heart almost broke and your body was tense with rash panic.

On the rear side of the house was a scruff garden fenced in by a rundown fence and a small wooden stump. It was almost an insult to even call it a garden; it was more of an abandoned plot.

It looked like the stump there was used for chopping wood. An axe was planted in the ground beside it. But there were also dark stains on it that could only make you horridly guess what else might be chopped there.

Wyll – taking over the role as tactician right then and there – made you wait while you were almost ready to scale a wall. At least by the excessive continued honking you still knew that Goosetarion was alive.

Wyll’s patience and insistence paid off because after mere minutes, the man came out of the house again, carrying the goose, some stuff in a basket hanging from his arm and of course – a ginormous cleaver.

Your heart dropped and the goose too now looked just very scared and helpless with how it hung from the goose-napper’s arm. Head hanging low, seemingly having given up all hope of being saved. You drew an arrow and readied at on your bow as Wyll waved the others to get in position.

The man slammed the cleaver into the wooden block and then with both hands placed down the goose on its back. The animal was barely even struggling anymore, just fearfully squeaking and noticing that almost broke your heart completely in these frightful moments.

The villain then ripped out the cleaver from the wooden stump and lifted it up high. You could see the sunlight glint on the shabby silver.

Wyll was still motioning everyone to hold but your strings snapped.

“GET AWAY FROM THE GOOSE!”, you screamed at full lung capacity while loosening the arrow from your bow string simultaneously.

The man hesitated and had only started to turn to you as the arrow struck him squarely in the shoulder holding the cleaver.

He immediately dropped the lifted knife with a guttural scream, letting it fall. It land on the wooden stump again – missing the goose’s head by mere inches. You only saw how the goose’s head dropped back with a small relieved honk, almost as if it had fainted shortly because of the shock.

Then absolute chaos broke out.

You all rushed towards the man who was screaming in pain and was already pulling at the arrow in his shoulder. Your eyes were solely on the goose but then Halsin, Karlach and most of the others overtook you and you lost sight of the animal as your friends stormed onto the man.

Coincidentally, some other shady looking folk came out of the back of the house, alarmed by the commotion. Your suspicions and gut feeling were confirmed then. You didn’t need to know anymore at this point, you had no mercy in your bones for them in this moment.

The thugs engaged your group in combat. In the meantime, you were desperately trying to spot the goose while your friends easily managed to keep the enemies in check.

Finally, you spotted Goosetarion! He had jumped off the wooden stump and seemingly had gotten into the basket the man had been carrying. And obviously the basket had contained some more knives because the goose was now firmly holding one in his beak. Astarion certainly had gotten out of his stupor and was now flailing his wings and threatened everyone with the blade he was carrying – everyone’s ankles were definitely in grave danger. Almost no difference from the usual rogue.

Your group easily fought off the thugs as you sneaked through the chaos of the battle towards the goose to grab and secure it. When the goose saw you, it hopped happily and dropped the knife to honk joyfully at you. You rushed over, kneeled down and wrapped him in your arms as he kept honking and jumping – obviously very relieved that you came to his rescue.

The fight was very quickly turning to your favour. But then as you kept holding onto the poor little animal you heard something else. You couldn’t quite discern it at first, but you heard loud screaming. And as you tried to peek through the legs of everyone around you, you saw some people in armour coming closer.

“City watch”, you whispered to yourself. Goosetarion’s head swung around as well and he gave another honk as he saw what you saw.

“CITY WATCH”, you yelled louder so everyone would hear.

That made almost everyone stall. You quickly got up and wildly gestured at your friends to just get going. So they did – and the fight turned into running from city guards way quicker than you thought it possible.

You didn’t even take one look back at the assailants and the goose-napper. You were just completely happy with running away with your goose soulmate safely in your arms. The adrenaline of the fight and the panic before almost awarding you wings. The only reason you took a look back was to make sure that all of your group were safely with you.

When you had brought what you thought was a safe distance between you and your pursuers, you just sank to the ground with Goosetarion wrapped securely in your arms. You nuzzled your face into his feathers and started crying.

The last day had literally been too much for you. You were in desperate need of a break and some strong alcohol. Someone put their hand on your shoulder as you cried into Astarion’s feathering. You softly slid down against the rough brick wall you were leaning against until you were laying on your back, completely dissolved in your tears. You were still burying your face when even through your closed eyelids you could see a purple flash of light and suddenly the weight laying on top of you was much heavier than before.

You opened your eyes and almost didn’t believe them when you saw Astarion – the real elven Astarion lay on top of you. Reflexively your arms and legs wrapped around the man to hold him as close as possible.

“Oh gods”, was the only thing you managed to mutter as more tears kept coming. The vampire in turn wrapped his arms around you as well. He was panting and coughing – surely a response of straining his voice with all the excessive honking. You rolled around in your forceful hug until you were laying on top of the former goose.

And then you just stayed like this for a long moment while your friends watched out for you and gave you two a moment of just holding each other. Making sure everything was fine and letting the realisation settle in.

You buried your face at Astarion’s shoulder and held him as tightly as your body allowed.

“Hello, my love”, Astarion whispered hoarsely to you as he started to softly caress your shoulders, arms and back.

You sobbed and lifted your head from his shoulder. You saw how he softly smiled at you and that his red eyes were dangerously wet as well as he kept holding onto you.

You didn’t know what to say nor did you trust your mind enough to form coherent sentences yet. You were just unbelievably happy that you had him back with you. So you just stared at the humanoid vampire again and didn’t let go of him.

“Honk?”, Astarion made in an attempt to stop you from crying by cracking a joke. You whacked his arm and pulled him in closer again. Then you whacked his arm again.

“If you’re ever going to honk at me again-“, you started making a threat.

“I’ll happily promise you not to”, Astarion immediately replied, pressed his forehead to yours and cupped your face with one of his hands – graciously reminding you that he was fully back with you again.

And then he pressed his lips to yours, confirming the promise he had just made to you.

Tag list:

Tumblr taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @bloopthebat @dark-star-exe @sleepydang @spooniefulofsugar @shadowserpent4444 @mei-simp @shiningneedlecastle@indestructeible @catching-fire-in-the-wind

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w1nchesterz · 7 months ago

Text

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

lewis hamilton x russell!reader

in which lewis hamilton sneaks around with his teammates older sister however it doesn’t end up how she wants it to.

MASTERLIST

warnings: 18+, angst, fluff, age gap, smut: fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), fingering, needy sex.

word count: 3.2k

————————————————————

Despite being George Russell’s older sister, the girl had still fallen so madly in love with his much older teammate. He was 39, whilst the girl was only 30.

She had first properly met the older man in 2022, when her younger brother had joined the Mercedes team.

As soon as her eyes fell onto him, his long sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his brown, gorgeous puppy-dog eyes. His dark skin had beautiful freckles dusting his cheeks, a short beard framing his face which he often ran his fingers through whenever he concentrated.

His hair was in dreads, however they always seemed to be tied up into a high ponytail. He had a few tattoos, and piercings which ultimately gave off the ‘bad boy’ aura he seemed to desperately try to pull off.

As he spoke to Toto Wolff, the team principal, he cracked a few jokes — which caused Lewis to laugh loudly.

It was a beautiful sound which filled her ears, her own lips twitching up into a smile as her eyes fell on his large smile, the small gap in his teeth evident.

George, who was stood by her side scoffed loudly, his hand resting on his hip. His sudden noise pulled the girls attention away from the majestic man, and onto her brother.

“What?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown as she shook her head gently.

George couldn’t help but laugh, at the confused expression that was etched onto her features, “Sorry, I just find it hilarious how you’re drooling over Lewis.”

It was now her turn to scoff, as she quickly dug her elbow deep into her younger brother’s ribs, a scowl on her face, “I am not drooling.”

“Are you sure? I see a little uh…” He pointed to around her mouth, wiggling his finger about as a smug smile tugged at his lips, “Drool, there. Just there.” He teased, and his sister was quick to slap his hand away.

Lewis watched from afar, a close-lipped smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he watched the interaction go down between the siblings.

The girl felt his gaze practically burning into her skin, and she soon straightened up, fixing her hair before rolling her eyes at her younger brothers antics.

She looked over to Lewis, catching his gaze. She could feel her cheeks grow hot beneath his eyes, but she pushed the flutter of her stomach down as she mouthed, “Good luck!” Before pointing at her brother with a small giggle.

She earned a laugh from Lewis, and she said her goodbye to her younger brother before leaving the Mercedes garage.

————————————————————

It was six months later, when the girl was awoken at the dead of night by the ping of her phone.

Confused at who was messaging her so late at night, she opened her phone to see a message from an unknown number.

Hey, is this Y/N?

She furrowed her eyebrows, quickly typing a quick response.

Yeah, who’s this?

She anxiously bit at the inside of her lip as she awaited a response, her heart beating so loud she could hear it in her ears.

Sorry, it’s Lewis. Did I wake you?

It was past midnight, and she could feel the tiredness of being awoken by his message behind her eyes. The light of the screen burning into her eyes, making her have to blink it away every now and again.

No, it’s fine. Did you need something?

She quickly typed back, and she saw that he had opened the message almost immediately, but didn’t respond for a few minutes. She saw how the typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then reappeared multiple times.

She sighed, shutting her phone off and stuffing it into her pyjama shorts pocket, getting up from her bed to grab herself a bottle of water.

By the time that she had grabbed herself a bottle of water from the fridge, and made her way over to her white couch, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she immediately assumed it to be Lewis.

You really are slow, aren’t you?

The girl couldn’t help but let out an offended gasp, she didn’t appreciate his attitude in the slightest.

Pardon?

She scoffed, rolling her eyes before slamming her phone down onto the plush cushion of the couch, annoyance bubbling in her chest.

Yeah, she had a bit of a crush on him, but she had never expected him to speak to her like that.

It took no longer than two minutes for a response back, and she sighed with annoyance as she heard her phone ping for what felt like the 100th time that night.

It’s not what I need, it’s who I need.

Her eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown, she didn’t know whether he wasn’t making any sense, or she was that tired that it wasn’t going into her head right.

Lew, what are you on about?

She stared at the message, trying to make sense of it before her phone buzzed again within the space of a few seconds.

God dammit, Y/N.

It’s you. I need you.

The girls heart skipped a beat, the one thing she had wanted for 6 months straight had started to come true.

For real?

She didn’t even have enough time to turn her phone off before she got a response.

God, yes. Come over.

Room 406.

I’m on my way.

She smirked, blushing profusely at her phone as if she was back in high school, getting giddy over her hallway crush asking her out or something along those lines.

She quickly got herself ready, dressing into clothes that exposed her best features — a short skirt that exposed her upper thighs, something she had caught Lewis staring at on multiple occasions, and a blouse which she left the top buttons undone, revealing her cleavage.

She knew the clothes would be ripped from her, ending up in a pile on his floor but she didn’t care, she was finally getting what she had wanted for so long.

She ran a brush through her sleep-mangled hair before rushing from her hotel room, walking down the hall to his room, which luckily was only a few doors down.

Here.

She messaged him quickly, raising her arm to knock on the door. Just before her knuckles made contact with the door, it swung open on its hinges, with enough force to be pulled off.

A loud gasp escaped her parted lips at the sight of him, the familiar heat pooling between your legs. He was shirtless, showing off his perfect, tatted abs, and only sported a pair of grey joggers which easily showed the imprint of his dick.

Her eyes widened at the sight, she could tell he was big. Bigger than average.

Lewis quickly grasped his large hands around her delicate wrist, pulling her desperately into the hotel room before slamming the door behind him.

“Fuck, gorgeous.” He rasped under his breath, instantly reaching his hand around the base of her neck, the other gently caressed her face.

The Russell girl sucked in a sharp breath, staring into his chocolate brown eyes, him staring into her blue ones.

His juicy lips were parted, breathing heavily as he admired the beauty of his teammates sister in front of him.

George was going to kill him. But that was the least of his worries as he now had her where he wanted, in his hotel room, about to fuck.

He licked his lips, staring down at her plump ones, as he inched forward, his breath hot on her cheek.

He ducked his head slightly, placing open-mouthed kisses along her neck, occasionally nipping at the skin, leaving purple splotches behind.

She pushed her head forward slightly, their lips connecting in a horny clash of teeth and tongue. She could sense the older man’s desperation in the way his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her close, her inner thigh resting against his hard dick.

She let out a gasp as the feeling of his clothed dick against her bare thigh sent shivers down her spine and added to the warmth pooling between her legs.

“You look so good f’me.” Lewis murmured between the passionate kisses, his hand sneaking beneath her shirt.

He looked up at her to ask for permission, and as soon as he received a nod as an answer, his hands ventured further up her top, and beneath her bra.

He massaged her breasts, pinching at her nipples which earned a half-gasp, half-moan from her mouth.

“Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me.” He mumbled, continuing his harsh attack on her nipples, “God, the amount of times i’ve had to touch myself, because you’ve been walking about in those short skirts and silly little crop tops.”

The girls cunt clenches around nothing, and she let out a soft whiny whimper as she immediately thought of Lewis, fucking his hand because of herself.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Lew.” She whined, and Lewis regretted not asking her sooner.

“Should’ve asked you sooner, hm?” Lewis asked with a smirk of his lips, and the girl nodded as another whimper spilled from her lips.

“Can I?” He asked, looking down at her. His eyes were dark, full of lust as his hand hovered over her blouse, asking to remove the offending item of clothing.

Her cheeks blushed profusely, and she nodded again.

“C’mon, words, princess. Use them.” He tsked, raising an eyebrow in her direction as she clenched her thighs together as an attempt to release the pooling arousal in her panties.

“Please.” She begged, a whiny tone to her voice as he quickly attacked her clothes, unbuttoning his clothes as if his life depended on it. He then trailed his hands up and down her body, quickly unzipping the skirt as if he couldn’t get it off fast enough before he tossed it to the floor alongside her blouse.

Without any warning, he quickly ducked down momentarily and scooped her up, earning a loud yell that escaped from her lips. A mischievous smirk played onto his lips as he looked down at the girl in his arms.

“My princess needs a bed, no?” He asked rhetorically, in response to the girl’s yelp and giggling.

Once they reached his bedroom, he slowly and gently lowered her to the plush bedding.

“I need you.” Lewis groaned, a deep, guttural noise that just adds to the pool of arousal in her panties. She needed him.

Lewis lowered himself between the V of her legs, his finger hooking against the waistband of her lace panties, and he looked up at her once more, asking for permission again.

“Yes.” She nodded with a soft giggle, and as soon as he removed the thin piece of lace, she could feel his hot breath against her sodden cunt.

Another half-moan, half-gasp left her mouth as he held onto her thighs, keeping them open.

He ran a finger along the lips of her pussy, collecting the slick as a groan left his lips, “So fucking wet already, baby.”

He instantly attached his lips against her clit, causing her back to arch up from the bed. The sound of her moans filled the room as he lapped at her cunt like it was the first time he’d eaten in days.

Each time he paused to take a breath he would mutter something along the lines of, “My good girl” and “So delicious, baby.” Each praise he made added to the heat between her legs, and Lewis could feel the way her aching hole tightened around nothing.

Every now and again, he pushed his tongue into her hole, which caused the girl to jerk up on instinct.

Lewis moaned into her pussy, the vibrations going straight to her core, her walls clenching around his tongue.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He muttered, and she started fisting the sheets beside her, as if it would do anything.

“Fuck, Lew! I’m so close!” She cried out, as he continued his torturous attack on her clit.

The moan that escaped her lips when he pushed a finger inside sounded downright pornographic as he started to curl his finger upward. Each time it hit her sweet spot, threatening to push her over the edge.

“Please, Lew..” She moaned loudly, the familiar knots forming in her stomach as she got closer.

Lewis’ eyes were transfixed on the sight before him, his finger pumping in and out of her tight pussy.

Something he had only fantasised about.

“Cum for me, pretty girl.” He spoke, his voice had a low gravelly tone to it as he continued his malicious attack on her clit.

As soon as those words left his perfect lips, her orgasm washed over her, her juices spilling onto his fingers.

“Just like that, my good girl.” He praised as she came, her back arching from the white sheets of his bed as her legs shook.

If she hadn’t just came, she probably would’ve at the praises alone.

“Fuck, Lew.” She muttered, her hair sticking to her skin as she relaxed into the soft bedding.

The older man pulled his finger from the girls sodden cunt, and he stuck it into his mouth, eating up her release from his own finger.

“Taste so good, baby.” He praised, pulling his finger from his mouth with a soft pop,“God, I can’t wait to stuff you full with my dick.”

“Please.” She begged, her mouth watering at the idea of his dick inside of her. Once the words left her mouth, Lewis was quick to pull down his grey joggers, leaving him in his boxers.

Her mouth opened slowly at the sight of him, his abs, thick thighs and the bulge in his boxers was very evident.

“God, princess, I’ve needed this all night.” He groaned as he took a step closer to his girl on the bed, he ran his hands up and down her basically naked body.

“We don’t need this anymore, do we?” He laughed gently, his arms snaking around her bra clasp as she shook her head in agreement. He removed the black lace and tossed it to the floor carelessly.

“I need you.” The girl spoke as her fingers played with the waistband of his boxers, the same way he had done with hers, “Can I?”

“Of course, baby.” He groaned as his cock sprang free from his boxers, and the girl couldn’t help but gasp at his size.

“Like what you see?” He hummed as he climbed on top of her, trailing kisses from her belly button all the way up to her collarbone. He nipped at the skin, sucking harshly which caused purple splotches to form along her skin.

“Mhm.” She nodded eagerly, feeling his hard cock resting between her thighs, needing it. Needing him.

“Fuck, you don’t understand how often I’ve thought about fucking you, just like this.” He breathed heavily into her ear, causing a soft whimper to leave her swollen lips.

“Do it, please.” She begged, looking up at him through her lashes, a pleading expression evident on her features.

Lewis lined himself up, before pushing himself in slightly. The gaspy groan that left his lips was beautiful, and it sent jolts of electricity through her body.

The sting of the slight stretch was delicious, and she let out a moan as she nodded for him to continue.

Once he finally bottomed out, his breathing became heavy in her ear as he let out a string of praises, “Fuck. You’re so tight, taking me like a good girl. My good girl.”

The feeling of her tight, bare cunt around his large cock felt heavenly, and he couldn’t help but groan as he pulled himself out slightly, just to thrust back in.

As he thrusted in and out of her, he leant forward, continuing his meticulous attack on her neck — leaving sloppy kisses along her neck.

Loud moans from the girl and grunts from Lewis echoed around the girl, the sounds of praises and slapping skin filling the room.

Neither of them cared about the age gap as he relentlessly pounded into her tight cunt, neither of them cared about how her brother would hate Lewis for what he was doing to his sister right now.

All they cared about was each other.

She let out a loud moan as he continued to hit her g-spot, ramming into it with force each time which caused her to teeter over the edge of orgasm.

“Fuck. Want you to cum on my cock.” Lewis groaned into her ear, his breath hot on her exposed neck.

“I’m so close, Lew! Please!” She babbled, her moans becoming louder and louder as he messily thrusted into her even tighter pussy.

He moved his hand down to her clit, rubbing it harshly which caused a slight scream to leave her lips. The added pleasure caused her back to arch from the bed once more, her walls pulsating around his cock.

Lewis was impossibly close to cumming, both breathing heavy as they neared to their orgasms.

“Fuck, baby, just like that. Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, yeah?” Lewis grunted as he thrusted into her messily, and she nodded frantically at the idea of him filling her up with his cum.

As he groaned into her ear, he pushed her over the edge as he added more pressure to her clit.

Her eyes were screwed shut as she came over his cock, letting out a loud cry. Her body shook, her back arched and Lewis let out a loud groan as he spilled into her, a mixture of their releases leaking out of her hole.

“Good girl, you did so good f’me.” His breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath.

Once he caught his breath, he quickly lifted himself up, disappearing momentarily before returning with her clothes that he placed on the edge of the bed and a damp washcloth to clean her up.

As he leant over her, he bit at his lip anxiously, which caused her to sit up with furrowed brows, “Is something wrong, Lew?” He hesitated for a moment, helping her clothe herself.

“No, no..” He mumbled, sighing deeply before he decided to say what was eating at him, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

Those words alone caused her blood to run cold, her face dropping from her post-orgasm glow to a look of hurt.

“What?” She asked, her heart sinking.

He noticed the broken look in her eyes, and he felt his own heart sink slightly. But no one could find out, especially not George.

“If this gets out, George wouldn’t forgive me, and given the circumstances…” He trailed off, hinting at the 9 year age gap between them, “It wouldn’t end well if everyone found out.“

He reached out for her hand, and she reluctantly accepted it, her heart still aching for the man in front of her. All she wanted was him, to be loved by the man who only wanted sex, and not to be his dirty little secret.

For months after, the two snuck around — because she believed that having some of Lewis was better than none.

————————————————————

#formula one #formula 1 #f1 smut #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton angst

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netherfeildren · 7 months ago

Text

FABLE OF THE DOG : 3. Little Freak

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1, Chapter: 2,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Rough Sex; Size Difference; Spanking; DD/lg Dynamics; Dom/Sub Undertones; Forced Orgasm; Dirty Talk (like really forreal); Small Boobie Rep; Biting; Over Stimulation;

A/N: really sticking my finger in the father wound and wiggling it around in this one :))))))

Word Count: 10.3K

Read on AO3

3. Little Freak

You pull your sticky fingers from the damp bed of your underwear, the not enough little orgasm you’d been able to rub out still pulsing hot and cold through your cunt.

Horrible man—you’ve never wanted anyone or anything as badly as you want him to need you. And no, not a wanting sort of thing, not a wanting sort of desire—that’s not what you’d demand from him. It’s specific, this thing: it’s that you want him to have no choice in the matter, you want him to be forced, to see no other recourse but you because that’s just how necessary you feel to him.

You want there to be no thought, no compunction in him—only you.

Even more, because lies are worth nothing here in your own mind in your cold bed—

—You want him to love you.

The way your father never did. The way no man ever has, not really.

Face buried in the dark for a moment, you groan softly before sliding belly first off the silk bedding onto your knees, pushing yourself up off the floor unsteadily. You toe your boots off and then step tiptoe on the end of each sock to pull them from your feet. It’d not been a lie—you’re not drunk, limiting yourself to only one tonight, and no liquor, because you knew you needed to be able to focus on the taste of his tongue when you inevitably got your hooks in him, hoping, knowing he’d take your bait and follow, but now, it’s a wholly different sort of buzz zinging through you.

All him. All man. All Joel.

He’d been flavored of smoked whiskey and mint, a hint of tobacco, and you wish you could’ve been more faithful in your pursuit of enjoying the chewing of the leaves he always has, you’d tried for years but couldn’t bear the texture, the green gnashed between your teeth, earthen and organic. It’s not for you, your tastes veering to something hotter and sweeter. But you’ve always wanted to be just like him anyway, and every endeavor at a connection, no matter how small, had always seemed like a valiant one.

Stupid birthdays. Disgusting leaves of mint. Dead fathers and daughters and all the different ways we hurt each other.

Stumbling coltish and uncoordinated, newly birthed down the staircase, you push your way out the back door. He’ll have gone to bed now, you know they’re going up the mountain early tomorrow morning to check on one of the herds, but you’re desperate for one more second of him, being spit out of the house of your dead parents, hunting for the last hint of his presence riding on the fresh air off the Tetons and all this land that’s all yours now.

You veer left then right, a zigzagging dance across the green lawn until you’re far enough away from the house it’s like you can pretend to ignore the ghosts you’re readying to exorcize. One knee hits the ground hard and stinging, limbs loose and strengthless, you feel the stab of a little rock against the curve of round bone beneath easily broken skin, catching yourself on a palm, another too hard scrape and then you’re rolling over into the grass, settling on your back to look up at the stars.

There are so many, an infinite number of lights winking like watchful eyes back at you, and you wonder at the sort of childhood that lends itself to laying in the grass like this beside a parent that loves you and wants you and carves space in their life for a child they'd forced into the world. It should be some sort of crime, you think, immediate execution sort of barbarity, to have a child and not love it the way it demands.

Back of your hands open at your sides, palms to the watching sky, you close your eyes and imagine what it’d be like to have the hand of a father holding it, one that would want you—not a mother because what is she in reality to you but an imagination figure you can’t even truly conjure up? That much of a stranger is what she is—such an alien thing you can’t even bother to dream her.

Drawing your knees up, you press your bare heels into the earth and the wet placket of your panties is ice cold and sticking uncomfortably now, breeze against it. You shouldn't be thinking about this shit, but you think you might cry anyway, sucking in too fast breaths, forcing them out in attemptedly slow little puffs through your nose. A wave of sudden grief, then a plateau, the nauseating up and down of it all. You should be thinking about him, about your victory tonight, about making him so angry he can’t help himself, about what’ll come next—his skin. But that’s the thing about him, Joel, isn’t it? Always has been—the incongruous, make-no-sense feelings he’s always pulled out of you since you’d first set eyes on him, fourteen years old and tender and so alone you didn’t even know there was another way to be but abandoned.

A laugh then—huffing and sardonic and again, incongruous, because now you really are crying. Tears leaking back, hot and fat to pool in your ears and salt the earth beneath you—unloading your grief into the grass as if God were beside you. Nothing will grow here again because of you if you’re not careful, and that’s the next worry—

If he never needs you the way you’re demanding of him, you won’t be able to stay here.

You won't be able to live here and love him and not have him, and you could force him, perhaps, in your own ways. But you’ve done so much of that your whole life—forcing unloving men to look at you and take you into their arms when they’d never really wanted to give you the thing you’d always wanted most.

The tender truth: it would be so much better if Joel decided to need you because he wants to, because he can’t fathom another way than just that.

And you don’t think you’ll ever be able to live with anything else besides such.

Another forced out laugh again—just to feel the feeling of it, go through the motion, mountain air a roundabout gust in your lungs, then to your left: “What’re you laughing at, weirdo?”

Ellie, long and loping and beautiful, come to your rescue. She throws herself down onto the ground beside you and doesn’t even have to ask a thing about it when she places her rough hand in your soft one.

Working girl, mover of mountains, changer of lives.

Ellie has always known how to know you, and it has always been an incredible comfort.

The two of you lay there for a few quiet moments. Friendship as an entity has always been a strange thing to you who have never understood love in a non-transactional way. But the thing that Ellie has always given you, it has always been an incredibly straightforward sort of understanding, simple—that of one abandoned child to another, perhaps.

“Are you drunk?”

“Why’s everyone always fucking asking me that?” Said with another laugh but of the real sort this time, despite the bite in your voice.

“You’re a hazard. What can I say?”

Undeniable. “Oh, shut up.” You dig your nails into the back of her hand, trying to scratch her but probably ruining your manicure instead, she squeezes your knuckles in sideways, hurting you way more than you could manage her. A yelp, and you say, “You know what I’m excited for?”

“What’s that?”

“Skijoring.”

“Fuck no, dude. I almost died last time.”

You snicker, “Yeah, that was the fun part for me.”

Elbow to the ribs, and, “Asshole,” she laughs. And then you’re quiet again together, still gripped by the hands, and it’s the sort of comfortable only two girls who’ve been together since they were truly girls can be.

“You see Cassiopeia?” She points her finger way north.

“Do you think I should stay?” You see it, and easily, and you know if you were somewhere not here, it wouldn’t be so simply found. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Because of Joel.” It isn’t a question. You’ve never said it with words to her, but she’s always known.

You hum instead of answering, can’t say it out loud anyway just yet. “So you finally asked her.” Dina, she knows what you mean.

And Ellie hums now in turn too. The both of you are so fucked up. Can’t say a thing out loud.

“And?”

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Good.”

“Just good?”

Ellie groans loud and long, baying goat, and you tell her so, which gets another knock to the ribs. “Turn around and don’t look at me so I can tell you.”

You roll over towards the mountains and feel her face the house where she doesn’t see ghosts like you do.

“But you’re not allowed to say anything—just say okay. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I think—well, you know…,” she gruffs, voice dipping low and dropping off before she can say the words out loud again also. Everything’s a secret code here, even the stuff that shouldn’t be.

“You think?”

“You’re such a fucker. I know.”

You hum again but the good and happy sort, pressing your lips together to keep the misty eyed smile at bay. “Okay,” you say back just as low and just as gruff.

“S’why I think you should stay,” she adds. “If I can find happy here, so can you.”

“I’ve never been able to before.”

“But you’re different now.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah—can see it, you know. And this place is different now too—will be different.”

“I was afraid to come back for such a long time. It seemed like the worst thing in the world.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, before she says: “You’re not supposed to be afraid of your father.” A very obvious thing—or at least it should be.

You feel her turn to look at the back of your neck, and you peer over your shoulder at her and when your eyes meet, she looks so sad, like she’s so sorry for you but without the pity, and you do understand what it is she’s saying despite never having had that fearless experience.

“Aren’t you?” A shrug of your shoulder and a helpless laugh but also maybe with real humor accompanying it. Because yes, you’re not supposed to be. You always were anyway. It’s funny in an impossible to understand way.

A beat and then, “Can I say something fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

“He isn’t here for you to be afraid of anymore.”

Funniest of all, you’re the most sad about this. And what you don’t say to her, perhaps for shame or that child’s feeling of having done something wrong but not necessarily understanding what that wrong is—sometimes it’s inevitable, missing the monster.

“Maybe you needed him to die.” Yeah, fucked up. You’d already thought the same thing and were chock full of guilt for it. “Maybe it was like—like I don’t know. It was never going to be the way it should have between you, but now you can remember him, fuck, I don’t know—different. Not that you wanted him to die, but now the reality of him isn’t here for you to see, so you can just remember it all however you like or not.”

“So I should lie to myself?”

“Why not? There are worse things you could do. There are worse things you do do.”

You snort. “Is this what your method is?”

“Yeah. Like—like sometimes, when I’m so happy I can’t believe it’s me feeling it because she makes me that happy, Dina,” she says her name with love, “I pretend nothing from before was ever the way it was, and it’s only here and now and me and Dina and the ranch and there was no shitty, abandoning father and no dead mom and no nothing and only Joel is my dad and it’s all always been okay.”

Joel.

At the center of everyone’s happy dream, why is it always him?

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll try it.” She reaches behind her back then, pawing at your hip until you give her your hand again, and you were wrong. She’s changed too. She can say things now. She’s always had those too perceptive eyes and that too big heart, and she’s changed now in a way that makes her not afraid to let it out and use these things anymore.

You tell this changed Ellie now: “You know that like— that like… I don’t know how to say it. When a person’s life seems like it should be perfect, and you have everything. Everything should be good, right—but it’s just not. Your parents should be kind, they should be loving. They should be attentive and give a shit what happens to you, and it probably seems that way to the whole rest of the world except for the people that have to witness the humiliation behind closed doors, but it’s really just not, and then they probably look at me and wonder how my life could be anything but rose colored, and it all just seems a little silly and empty. Doesn’t it?”

“Nah—don’t know. My life was always shit before I came here and found Joel and Dina and all of them and you. And I'd seen enough to recognize what you were and how it was. Nothing ever looked rose colored to me—just looked like more shit.” You laugh again out loud now and for real, squeezing more tears out over your hot cheeks when she joins you in the sad hilarity as well.

When her voice is finally steady from the belly laughs again, she says, “It’s a grief pyramid, we’re all just going around hurting each other in the name of our ghosts and call it an excuse, an offering to their memory and act like it’s okay. But it’s fucked up. That’s why I decided to stop. I stopped pushing her away, I told her—well, you know. I told her.”

“Say it, loser.” You bump your butt into hers.

“Not to you—leave me alone.”

Say it, say it, say it, you sing.

“I love her, fuck off.” And a little clog of emotion sticks wetly in your throat.

That’s the real question, honestly: How do you make someone love you? How do you make yourself into someone people can love?

“It’s a grief pyramid,” she repeats. “You have to choose to stop adding to it.” And she’s quiet again for a long time, and you can’t fathom how it is one stops building onto something they’d been born into. You think on it so long the feel of her palm clutching yours starts losing itself to sleep in the grass and the breeze comes off the mountains like a blanket over the two girls who’d become women before them until she says again, “Anyway, that’s usually the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nope. You’re definitely doing something.” He angles the phone away from her prying eyes, trying to shield his shame with the palm of his hand.

“Mind your own damn business, kid.”

“Is that an Instagram account?” Ellie howls like a banshee, Tommy coming up behind him to reach over his shoulder to try and rip the phone out of his hand. He holds it out of his reach.

It’s just that he couldn’t help himself. He’d heard the boys all talking about it on the ride back down after their long day of work—your Instagram page—as if he knew what the fuck that was. He’d had to search it up on the internet when he’d gotten a moment alone in the bunk, cracking open a beer, muscles exhausted from the hard ride and having to haul a heifer out of a bramble she’d gotten herself caught in, he’d realized it was a thing young people put photographs and such on, a social media thing. But when he’d gone to search your name, it’d told him he’d needed to make an account of his own. Growling in frustration, he’d slowly made his way through the process, too big fingers punching at the too tiny keys of the stupid phone you’d forced on him.

“Can you shut up and just show me how to work this thing. And stop your goddamn howling—Dina’s gonna think she’s dating a hyena not a girl.” She slides into the seat next to him, taking the phone from his grip to finish setting up the account and type in your name, a deck of pictures loading up for him to hunt through like a vandal. Photographs of you in all sorts of different places, draped in fine clothes and jewels and your fucking perfect ass right there for everyone to see.

Oh my God.

“How many people can see this shit?” He asks Ellie, angling the phone back towards her.

“You’re so nosey, man,” she chastises. “Thirty-seven thousand followers.” And a long, impressed whistle from Tommy who he’s going to punch in the face after he’s done with this.

He swallows hard. “What’s that mean?”

“That thirty-seven thousand people are following her and looking at her pictures, Joel,” his brother says. “Man, how fuckin’ old are you?”

“Yeah, you’re not that old, Joel. Come on.”

“Go away now. I’m busy,” he tells the both of them, going back to doom scrolling through your pictures. One’s of you in barely any clothes at all, an itty bitty orange bikini, hands on your ass and sand where his tongue should be.

Joel feels insane again.

“Pervert.”

“Joel… I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think there’s steam comin’ out of your ears, man.”

“Fuck off.”

Blessedly, they leave him to suffer in peace after a while, and thank Christ for that because eventually, the ex-boyfriend shows up in the scroll of pictures too. There for everyone to see in posts dated several weeks back—even one of the two of you kissing, you on his lap, fuck that. Good looking, shiny-boy sort. Joel’s left eye twitches at the sight of the sort of man he has never been, could never be for you, someone of your caliber.

The memory of your cunt grinding against him last night flashes through his mind and his cock throbs once and hungry. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, adjusting in the suddenly too tight seat of his jeans.

A clusterfuck is what it is—this sudden melding of the memory of the girl-child you used to be, the one that up until only recently lived in his mind, good and golden, and the woman you are now. With both figures meeting together with all the characteristics he’d always admired in you, your kind heart, your honesty, your generosity. You’ve turned out to be an exceptional woman, and it’s difficult to let the distant perception from before meet the lust he feels for you now and grapple with it without feeling sick to his stomach about it all.

It’s all an inevitability though, anyway. He knows this just from the rewind memory play of last night, the taste of your mouth and the little sounds you'd made for him, because of him, the way your hips had rolled over his lap desperately seeking.

You’re ending up on his cock one way or another—inevitable.

He’s never claimed to be a good and honorable man—never played the part of one either. He’s not about to start now.

Clicking on the picture of your sun bronzed ass in the tiny bikini again, he imagines himself biting and eating it, shifting his legs restlessly, taking another long pull of his beer. Tapping twice on the image, he tries to zoom in to the apex of your thighs—he’s going to hell, he’s so fucked up, doesn’t matter—when a little heart appears in the center of the image. He clicks it again and the heart appears once more, refusing to zoom into what he wants to see up close. Fucking piece of shit phone and fucking Instagram—frustrated and hard and pissed off at the fact he’s yet to see you all day, he locks the phone, slamming it face down on the kitchen table, and downs the rest of the can.

If he doesn’t get a hold of himself soon he’s going to burst, gut all twisted up into a hot knot of coal. Sick with jealousy and anger and lust, aggressive, the taste of your sweetness ringing in his ears and the sound of your moans on his tongue—his head is not on straight and he better get it fixed quick or all this pent up frustration is going to come out with teeth to take a chunk of flesh out of you.

Groaning loudly, he lets his head fall back, thumbs digging into the sockets of his eyes until he sees stars and not the sight of your slick swollen mouth made that way by himself. He wonders if you slept well last night, if you thought of him, if you’d made yourself come the way he’d ran home to the little foreman’s cabin Kelly had given him years ago, to do himself. Jumping in the shower to jack his leaking cock to the image of what it would’ve been like if he’d been brave enough to pull that flimsy little tease of a thong to the side, let his cock out and force it inside of you, make you take it until you were crying and coming so hard you’d never think to even look at another man again, much less kiss him.

He should’ve hit that fucker harder. He should’ve kissed you longer.

He needs to force you to take all of those goddamn half naked pictures down. No one should get to look at you like that except for him, and he doesn’t give a fuck how insane he sounds.

Outside, he can hear the cowboys hooting and hollering at something, egging each other on louder and louder, the scuffle of them shoving each other and horsing around. He sighs once and long, too tired to deal with their shit right now. All he needs is an evening of peace to get his head on straight and relax and will his boner down for a few hours. He’s acting like a goddamn randy teenager, walking around hard and aching half the day.

Heaving himself out of the chair, back hurts, he grabs another beer before he’s pushing the bunk door open to the sight of half the team huddled together and peering around the corner of the bunk towards the house.

“The hell’s got y’all clucking like a bunch of hens?” He asks, coming around them to stop dead in his tracks when he lays eyes on what it is that’s got them all worked up.

That same ass he’d just been trying to zoom in on, right there in the flesh for the whole ranch to ogle at. Stretched out on one of the sun loungers from the deck, dragged out into the center of the lawn with a little table set up next to you. You’d even gotten someone to scrounge up a huge umbrella, a misting fan spinning lazily, spitting a damp sheen of water every few minutes, a drink and a speaker playing some girly song, whole goddamn set up for all of these fuckers to stand here and take an eyeful of your perfect ass.

Joel tries to take deep breaths, counting back from ten in his head—fails. He’s going to be calm and cool and collected—not. He isn’t going to lose his temper—sure.

Fuck that.

He’s going to spank your ass so hard you can’t sit for a week.

“If you all don’t find something to do in the next thirty seconds,” he growls at them all through clenched teeth, “I swear I’ll have you slingin’ shit for a month.” The can in his grip pops loudly between his fingers.

They all take one peek at the look on his face and scatter like chicken shit until it’s only Ellie left smirking beside him.

“Take this,” he shoves the can at her and starts towards you.

“Bro—” He ignores her. Hey! She calls after him, voice demanding now, stopping him in his tracks before he can go get exactly what he’s been denying himself from the moment you kissed him two nights ago.

Giving him that look she gets when she needs to remind him she knows exactly who he is and that he can’t ever hide it from her, she chews on her cheek for a second before she says, and he doesn’t mistake it, it’s a warning: “She’s a real peach. You know that. Pretty and soft and sweet, but easily hurt. Needs gentle handling, even when she wants to pretend otherwise.”

It pisses him off. Bad. “You think I don’t fuckin’ know that? I understand her—” thumb to chest. Because he did—does. Because he thinks that he really always has. It’s undeniable that he has what you have, what Ellie has. Even what Oswald Kelly himself had had and what he’d seen in Joel when he’d decided to save the life of a no good man in a no good spot with a no good future in front of him—that sadness, that lost doggedness about you all that makes you so like one another, even despite your immeasurable differences.

The two of them look at each other for another long moment, and Ellie knows, Ellie always understands. With a roll of her eyes she spins on her heel, muttering to herself, slugging back Joel’s discarded beer.

Slowly, he rounds back towards you, afraid as if he were looking down the barrel of a gun, just as dramatic, as well. Objectively, he knows you’re doing this on purpose, to piss him off and rile him up and get a blow out reaction out of him. He tries to remind himself of it as he marches towards you, and if he were smarter or less inclined to take your bait, he’d take a beat to finish that count to ten reversal in his head and calm the fuck down before he gets to you—but honestly, he just doesn’t feel like it.

All he sees instead is the baby pink barely there string bikini you’ve got on, the slope of your back gleaming in the sun, slicked in something shiny, the damp from the mister, the lush curve of your ass and the shine of your hair resting face down on your folded arms.

You’re all sunkissed everywhere, and he’d really rather just give you what you want already.

“Get up,” he growls down at you.

One eye winks open, peering up at him before you press up on your elbows to take in the sight of him scowling down at you, and he can’t help it when his eyes flit down to the sight of your breasts cupped precariously in the tiny bikini, skin all sun flushed red against the soft baby pink fabric. You look like you’re made of sugar and sweet fruit and like you’ve come here specifically to ruin him and his whole life and all his self control.

Hmm? You smile up at him wide and teasing. Oh, he’s feeding right into your shit, and you piss him off so badly.

He’s never been this hard in his entire life, he’s even made dizzy with it.

The little wisps of hair at your temples are sweat soaked and curling, looking silky soft. A thousand little details about you and your body—the white of your smile and the flushed heat of your cheeks, sun burnished bridge of your nose starting to freckle—that he can’t help but notice.

Get. Up, he grits through clenched teeth. No one in the whole world deserves to see you like this, looking so beautiful, especially not him. Shading your eyes with the palm of your hand, you scrunch your nose up at him, and he’s got half a mind to bark at you to not do that when he’s around or he’s really gonna lose it. Your smile beams brighter.

“What’s wrong, Joel? Havin’ a rough day?”

“I swear to Christ, if you don’t get your ass up and in the house right this minute, I’m going to put you over my knee right here in front of your whole ranch to witness, little girl.”

You smile up at him again and a muscle at the corner of his jaw flutters madly, he’s about to crack a fucking molar. “Hmm, I don’t think so.” And you flop back down again so that the soft of your ass jiggles slightly, arching your back just a little so that he’s growling once, right before he’s gripping you by the elbow and pulling you upwards against his chest and dragging you all bare and slippery limbed to your feet. You smell like coconuts and sweet sweat and saliva pools heavy beneath his tongue.

“If you wanna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you like one. You get me?” He yanks you towards the house screeching like a banshee, let go of me, you fucking psycho, you howl. A too little fist swings towards his face, and he catches it in his palm, squeezing tight and feeling your thumb tucked inside your fist.

“Stop that—you’re gonna hurt yourself.” More squawking and howling, skinny wrist slipping from his grip to take another swing at him. “Don’t even know how to throw a goddamn punch—Jesus fucking Christ. Don’t tuck your thumb.” He hauls you up higher against himself, getting a better grip around your waist so he can carry you bodily up the steps of the deck.

You jam your heels into his shins, and he huffs and puffs, trying to keep his hold on you. I’m gonna kick your ass, you screech again, scratching and pinching at his forearms.

Joel is too old and too goodman tired for this.

“No, you’re not. And if you think I’m gonna let the whole goddamn ranch and all the boys stare at your bare ass all day, you’ve got another thing comin’ for you.”

“Well, I’ve gotta show it to someone, don’t I?” You sass back, trying to elbow him in the throat while you’re at it. Blood boiling, catching you by the small joint, he pulls your arm bent behind your back, other forearm banding against your stomach so that his hand is splayed at your hip, feeling the satin soft skin, slippery in your suncream.

And sure, he might be too old or too tired for this, but his cock is still hard as anything at the feel of you all against him like this.

Pushing the door open with his hip, he shoves you inside. The late afternoon sun paints the cool interior in shades of gold and beaming white; everything is beautiful and pristine as always, and yet tinged with the red of his temper and lust. His temples beat in tune with his too fast, pumping heart.

“Where’s Dina?” He’s still got you caught in his grip. He does not plan to let go.

“Let me go, you mother ffff—” He gives you one hard shake, hearing your teeth click and rattle. Little doll caught in his grip. He can do anything to you—and you won’t be able to stop him.

“Where is she?” He asks again, and something in his voice must snap you alert because you settle for a brief second, a little shiver skipping down the length of your spine that he follows to your full ass. He tugs you back, barely moving and slow, just that little bit further into himself so that the lush curve presses against the hard length of his cock—and there it is, the little knowing gasp, finally understanding what it is you’ve gotten yourself into.

“She—” Your belly is suddenly so hot and tight, heartbeat starting up behind your navel. Suddenly knowing what it is this is about to be, and yet now finally confronted with the reality of it for the first time, you can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll be like. “She—I don’t know. She went into town, I— I think,” you stutter, brain short-circuiting, desperate to feel that hardness again. “Waiting for Ellie—they’ve got plans there tonight.” His entire hand is wrapped around your forearm pressed against the small of your back, long, thick fingers overlapping against each other, and you roll up on your tiptoes, trying to arch your back further into him.

He grunts once, exasperated, and then shoves you forward again, rough enough you’re stumbling over your own two feet, full on aggressive panting bull at your back.

That’s good, he says so low you barely catch it before he’s pushing you up against the wall by the front door, cheek smushed against the silk printed wallpaper.

Your mother decorated this room years ago, melding the masculine taste of your father and her love for European decor. The walls, wrapped in hand painted English wallpaper on the top half, and paneled at the bottom with a mahogany so fine it gleams an amber golden glow when the afternoon sun shines in through the windows just so.

Everything beautiful; still, even after all this time.

He holds you there for a long moment, his breathing quick and shallow, bellows of hot air at the nape of your neck, disturbing the escaped hair from your claw clip curling there.

“Joel?” You ask once, voice wavering just a little bit because he suddenly feels so large and imposing behind you that something like trepidation beats behind the soft of your kneecaps. You know he worked all day, and his big body is a steaming blaze of heat, waves rolling off of him to burn the naked length of your back and limbs.

He pulls your arm trapped between his forearm and your stomach to the small of your back to join the other, holding you there in a lock pinned against the wall, reaching up slowly to let your hair down, long and swinging. You listen to the clatter of your clip against the hardwood floor, and then he’s circling the side of your neck, the tiny beating pulse held in the cup of his palm so that it feels as if it’s reverberating back into your head, a staccato rhythm, and echoing all through your body. A chiming bell, ringing and ringing and ringing, telling you that it’s time now. His hand smooths down the slope of your throat to your shoulder, and you listen to the rumbling half humming moan he lets out at the feel of your sweat sticky skin, then down the flat wing of your scapula, thumb nail scraping against the edge of your jutting bone for the way he’s got your arms trapped behind you.

You let out a high pitched whine, almost a scream, another puff of sound in the assimilation of his name, pleading now, rolling up onto your tiptoes again to push your ass back against the hard of his cock. Everything is so, so sensitive.

Quit, he snaps once and mean. Ordering. In a tone that says he’s in charge, and finally.

It’s such a relief.

You whine again, higher, needier, like you’ve never felt before, and there’s a nauseating thrum of electrified butterflies in your tummy, sticky sweet and cloying for attention. Joel, please, again and the wings beat faster. You’re sure he’ll enjoy the sound of your begging, it’s just something you know. Tiptoes straining higher so that the soles of your feet ache, he smooths that work roughened palm down the slope of your spine, thumb against your vertebrae, feeling the round little notches of bone beneath sensitive skin until he’s reached the twin dimples at the low of your back right above your ass, and presses there and hard—mean—so it hurts. Keening loudly, you crush your cheek harder, harder against your mother’s wallpaper until the bone aches, until there’ll surely be an indent of your shape left in the wall, and his thumb digs even harder anyway, gripping you tight enough to bruise.

This is how it’ll be—surprising, but also not. In all your years of imagining, you still don’t know what it is you expected.

“You’re carved so fine,” whispered against your skin and gooseflesh spreads like wildfire, nipples going tight and aching. His nose skims the slope of your nape, smelling you. “S’like you’re made of sugar. Is that what you’ll taste like too?” And his words are slurred, drunk-like and you feel the same way also, legs on the verge of giving out.

You press your hips back again, desperate for any sort of pressure, and he jostles you once, hard enough you bite your tongue. Quit moving, he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs and spreading you wide and immobile, thigh hooked over his own so that the toes of that leg barely skim the ground and now you’re precariously balanced on one foot, held up and pinned entirely by him.

Caughtcha, he murmurs.

You couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

The palm at the low of your back splays wide, his long fingers reaching from side to side and pressing hard against your skin and then all of a sudden he’s gone, and only for a second, before he’s back and slapping you hard and painfully stinging on the ass. A downward swipe of his thick fingers so that it really fucking hurts, and then the palm is back at the small of your waist, hooked thigh over his leg, unable to move, unable to do anything except take it.

He presses your belly into the wall, and the pressure is so intense and so deep—his breathing is so rough behind you. You know he worked the mountain all day, he should be exhausted, but the strength he’s trapping you with belies the possibility.

His hand goes away from your back again, and he’s spanking you once more, and you can’t tell if it’s harder or not this time, if it hurts worse than the previous, but the fire pain of it snaps all the way down from your thigh to your calve, pooling there in a knot of painful ache. An animal baying noise warbles in your throat, he tuts once, a cooing click of his tongue and cups your ass right at the rose of pain he’s left, kneading the skin gently, palpating the hurt like he’s looking for the physical imprint of it beneath your skin.

“Yeah, baby? Like that?” You sing the little animal song for him again. “S’what you needed, right?” His voice now is not the Joel-voice you’ve always known, but it is the one you’ve always dreamed of. The kneading fingers slide whisper soft down the back of your thigh, up again, down again, callused skin scraping. On the up again, his thumb catches at the edge of your bathing suit wedged between the cleft of your ass.

And lest he thinks he’s bested you, you say, “Yes, that’s what I needed,” and he laughs a rough laugh that makes him sound like he’s been gutted.

He squeezes the thick of your ass between his thumb and forefinger, an almost pinch and then smoothes his thumb beneath the pink edge along the curve, precariously close to danger. The sound of his name loses meaning, you’re praying it in a litany almost, over and over, begging. Hush now, he gentles, more in a sort of voice you recognize while your heart beats so hard against the wall it must surely sound like someone’s knocking on the front door for entry, like it must surely send echoes all through the ghost-house.

His smoothing thumb continues its journey until it’s between your thighs, pulling the wet lycra wide away from your skin so that he can tuck the rest of his fingers flat against your cunt, and now he’s there.

One of you says the word fuck another lets out a whimpering sort of noise—you’re not sure which is who, it’s all only a cunt-throbbing need you know he’s feeling leak and pulse against his hand.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs all reverence like. Joel—touching your cunt and sounding like he can’t believe it. His hand slides back along the curve of your sex, and you really are so wet the sound of it is slick and lewd, his fingertips at your entrance, a gentle probing and then forward again, a circling not touch around your clit, like he’s learning for himself this new little place that belongs to him now. Your mouth falls open on a spit-full moan, your eyes closed because you don’t even have strength now to keep them open and watchful. You’re so wet for me, he says again and again like he can’t believe it all either.

He drags his finger flats against you once more and then another time and then taps twice with all four of them, two little almost slaps to your clit that make a sticky wet splashing sound. Good girl, and you don’t know which part of you he’s talking to. You’re practically leaking onto the floor, trying to widen your hips, arch your ass back further and present your cunt to him for fucking. And then his fingers side to side in a swiping motion and fast.

Oh God. Oh God. Inside, inside, you need him inside. He needs to go inside.

“Please, pleeease, Joel. Oh, please.” Delirious.

“Please?” His fingers move fast and your vision goes entirely away. “Please what? Please what? You, please.” He switches front and backwards again, and then two fingers draw a little ghost circle at your entrance. You, please, he says again. His hand flips over, palm facing downwards, and he starts to slowly, slowly press a single tip of one inside. “Please behave. Please don’t— don’t—fuck— please gimme a second to breathe, to think, to catch up. God, fucking tight little cunt. I’ll never fit in here, baby.”

Your vision whites, then blacks, then goes blinding bright and colorless—zero frequency. Up to the first knuckle, and he wiggles the tip inside, making you cry and squirm, pulls out and then two fingers are pressing inside and downwards. “We’re gonna have to take it so slow in this little cunt.” Shit—shit.

“Oh my God, yes.”

Your hips shiver and shake as he penetrates you, his forehead tucked against your shoulder so he can look down at what he’s doing, and drool slides along your mother’s wallpaper from the corner of your mouth as he pushes his fingers in and out of you so slowly, the slick slide, the pressure against your front wall so heavy, and spread so wide like this but held so immobile—it all makes you feel like you’ll wet yourself with such little control over your body. A few slides in and out again, “Good girl, just a little more,” before he’s wedging a third into the mix, trying to put it inside of you as well. A little more? The stretch is too much, burning, and you wail and cry, arching again but this time to get away instead of steal more.

“Okay, okay. It’s alright,” he soothes. Hush. “It’s okay.” He pulls his fingers entirely out and covers the slick mess of your mound with his entire palm possessively. Rubbing soothingly at your wet, his fingers slide over the satiny smooth skin of your lips.

“You’re all bare,” he whispers, shocked.

You swallow hard once, shoulders and neck starting to ache. “I— I got lasered.”

“Lasers?” Voice confused.

“Yeah.” You swallow again, can’t catch your breath. “Yes.”

“Gotta see.”

He pulls you from the wall, shuffling you like gambling cards in his hands, that’s what this is, a gamble, so that you’re facing him as he walks you backwards, bikini bottoms askew and cunt bare to your parents living room; your dead father’s best man about to fuck it raw.

Pressing up on your tiptoes at the same time that you’re tugging him low by the collar and the slightly too long hair that curls over it to press an open mouthed kiss to his lips with eyes kept open. You need to see his face, his reaction, that even though he’s all rough, he’s still Joel and he’ll still take care of you now.

One strong forearm bands around your back, pressing you up high and close to his chest, fingers tangling in the bikini string at your back so that it pulls tight and bites into your skin, the other reaching around the back of your thighs to take a squeezing handful of you ass as he lifts you clean off the ground, lumbering slowly towards the couch while the two of you stare at each other with something that smells suspiciously of wonder.

On the high ground now, you stare down at him, held as you are and kiss him again, for real this time, with tongue, an eating of his mouth. Trying to taste him as deep as you can go, digging your manicured fingernails into the rough whiskered planes of his cheeks until he grunts roughly.

Showing him that you can hurt him too.

His knees hit the edge of the couch, one palm going to the back to hold himself steady as he sets you down, following your path to fold over you nose to nose. Watching each other for a blink, predator, predator, lashes tangling and then his mouth is sliding wetly over your burning cheekbone, drawn out groan like dying. Down to the hinge of your jaw where he sucks sharp once and his tongue flutters down the column of your throat, tasting your pulse, his palms everywhere at the same time too. Over your shoulders and down your goosefleshed arms, cinching at the nip of your waist to slide around your hips and to your ass, pulling you forward and open when he goes to his knees on the floor at the edge of the sofa between your spread thighs, with you draped diagonally across the cool leather that sticks to your sweaty, coconut flavored skin.

One palm slides down your chest, dragging over your breast, the other catching at your nipple with this thumb, nail scraping and pulling the wet fabric along with him, baring you to the first glance of his eyes. A sound that’s a little like a whimper precedes his latching mouth, sucking hard and with teeth so you’re arching and crying and when your head rolls to the side, eyes bleary and barely seeing, he’s got your small breast in his mouth, jaw hinged wide and hungry. His teeth scrape, one wide palm sliding over your thigh to the back, pushing your knee up high and open to your shoulder, lips skim over your belly, smell so fucking good, sharp edge over your hip bone and the lave of his tongue, taste so fucking good.

“I’m gonna eat your cunt.” Bikini askew, one little tit bared to the cold AC, nipples hard enough to hurt, he pinches it once and mean and stretches the soaking wet center gusset of your bottoms wider.

He looks and looks and grins and everything inside of you pulses.

Boyish smirk and a cocky glance up at you, oh, pretty, “Perfect little princess pussy, huh? I see now.” He sticks his thumb into his mouth, pulls it out with a pop to rub it spit slick against your clit. Yeah, yeah, like that, and you can’t help the whining cry.

Pushing your other thigh up high, the grin turns to something a little more menacing before he bends to your cunt, whole mouth covering you there like he’d swallowed your breast. His thumbs dig painfully into the backs of your thighs like they’d dug in your back, leaving little spots of hurt all over your body is what he’s doing, spreading you wide open.

Every touch is possessive, full of ownership.

“What are you doing to me?” He groans as he eats your cunt, doing exactly as he said he would, flat of his tongue licking all over you, dipping inside. Purse of his lips then and he’s sucking hard and pulsing in quick successions, and there’s your first one—little gush of slick and your belly so tight it hurts, you need something inside of you so bad—your first orgasm forced from you and onto his tongue, swallowed down into his stomach. He groans like an animal—doubles his efforts, tongue spearing inside, pulling away to press two fingers in—fuck, fuck, and you grab hold of your own thigh to keep yourself open for him, knees trembling beside your ribs.

The hand not inside slides across you, smearing slick over your belly, it’s everywhere, and presses down as he crooks those two fingers forward. His hair’s all fucked up, eyes glazed a maniacle shade of hazel that makes him more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him and also hotter than you could’ve ever dreamed, that boy’s smile again.

His mustache is soaked in you. “Little pussy’s so small ‘nd wet, baby.” He wiggles his fingers, pets against the blindingly sensitive place inside of you. “Feel that?” Fingers twisting—almost too much, the stretch burns already and just like this.

“Please, put it in,” you beg stupidly, a tear leaks and then another, not at all smart of self preserving.

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t tell if it’s soothing or condescending or both, your eyes screwing shut at what he’s doing to you, trying to paw at his shoulders and pull him towards you at the same time. “Can’t—too small.”

No, no— His palm at your belly presses down, fingers petting forward, again, again, head bent once more to suck on your clit, licking it roughly if a tongue can be rough because it’s heavy and strong and intentional—I can take it. There’s your next one, obeying the come here order of his fingers. Mid-come and he’s forcing that painful third one from before inside, and now it’s split open and sloshing wetly—your cunt—hiccupping into another left over shaky orgasm, fucking hurts a little bit. More tears and his soft chuckle—you’re really in it now.

When he slurps at your leaking again, fingers leaving you to gape empty and wanting, your hips shiver, trying to shake him away and rock against him at the same time. He says something you can’t make out, can’t even open your eyes, you just need a second, you swear, and then the clink of his belt, the shuffle of clothes, and he’s pulled his shirt over his head—you’ve enough mind left to open your eyes for this.

He’s so strong, built for fucking and working and heaving. You knew this already, you hadn’t needed to see him without clothes to know.

And all yours now, too.

Your fingertips paw greedy at his chest, muscular, the thickly corded arms and shoulders. One hand wraps around the slim of your ankle, manacling you while he undoes his fly, your heart skips with the split of the zipper’s teeth and pulls his cock out, letting it fall heavy on your stomach—a threatening, aggressive thing. It drags against your cunt, so big it doesn’t stand up straight and jutting like the others you’ve been used to, but bobs low and hanging.

Reaching forward you flit the tips of your fingers over the wide head—barely there butterfly touch—and your hand looks comically small next to the thing as you pet at the dark head swelling out of the thick skin around it, soft and burning hot—he growls like a wolf at your touch.

“I’ve never— I’ve never… with one like…”

He pulls your hand forward, wrapping it tightly around the thick length with his fist over yours. “Nah, baby. You’ve never had one like this. It’s alright—I’ll show you how to take it.”

You’ve half a mind to roll your eyes at him, but he distracts you with the soft touch at the split indentation in your knee from your romp in the grass last night. “What happened here, little thing?” His words and his touch are so soft, eyes warm and caring, as if he weren’t threatening at all, as if that thing that’s about to split you in half and make you cry hasn’t started to slick itself back and forth between your legs, parting the lips of your cunt, sticky sound on every pass with his fist wrapped around himself—too many things happening to you all at once by his hand.

“A rock hiding in the grass last night.” You start to roll your hips minutely against him, presenting your similarly torn palm for his appraisal, no, no, my poor baby, he kisses the little hurt while the fat head swipes over your clit, pressing against your hole—a little gasp and you circle his wrist at your knee, anchoring yourself.

He frowns. “Last night when?”

“After you left me.” Pouting back.

Cooing once and low, “You shouldn’t go out alone at night, anything could happen,” pressing again at the mouth of your cunt. Fuck, now—

“Wasn’t alone—”

The head notches and stays, “Without me then— Deep breath now, baby.” He grunts on the first push inside, and your back arches tight as a bowstring, hand splaying wide at the center of his belly and his long fingers wrap around your breast tight, holding you in place, deep breath, he says again.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God.”

He pitches his hips forward once, just a little, just a small shove, and you tense, sharp whine hiccuping through you. “Oh, it’s too big,” pressing harder at his belly as he edges deeper again, an inch and then another, literally splitting your cunt open for himself, thumb swiping slow and gentle over your clit, forcing little shudders of pleasure out of you amidst the pain.

“See, told ya.” It’s slow, slow until he makes it fit, watching himself sink inside of you the entire time, until you’re rooted on his cock, breath coming is quick, sucking pants, puffs out through your nose, body flushing hot and then even hotter. He folds over you, groaning loud and long, deep grinds and small shoves, and then it’s so much, too much until there’s no room left inside of you at all, that dull ache pain of his tip pressing against your cervix.

You’re going to be so sore tomorrow, it hurts, it hurts, but he plays with that place anyways, covering you with his body to press his face against your breasts, mouthing wet and hot at your nipples, biting hard to distract you from the pain inside. Your fingers twist in his hair, hot and damp at the roots, sweaty musk smell of a hard day's work, masculine, making you wetter for him. “It’s alright… it’s alright. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” And then a fuck, and he’s mumbling your name, how good you are again, how well you’re taking your fucking.

“This what you wanted, right? To get caught on my cock?” The palm cupping your ass tips you up and forwards, forcing him inside just that little bit more. Your knees are at your shoulders, folded entirely under him, and the tip of his cock is still there where it hurts the most while he pants and sweats on top of you. A cramp of heat moves like lightning down your back and something goes loose in your cunt, your womb contracting once, accepting its fate as you start to come around him, milking him deep inside of you. You start to cry for real now too, fingernails dragging against his naked back looking for blood—sobbing, actually, not just crying.

He bites your breast hard, grinds further not letting the orgasm stop, “God—I’m so fuckin’ deep. No one’s ever been this deep, right? Tell me, baby,” he begs, sitting back and dragging you boneless, still coming, into his lap, little girl splayed wide over his knees on the floor. You sink further down onto his cock, and he kisses your hot cheeks, letting your cunt drip down him. His belt digs bruisingly into the back of your thighs and it all hurts—he really is so deep now, head tucked firmly at your cervix, and he feels like he’s getting thicker, harder, like he just needs to be sunk deep like this, as deep as he can get so that all your cunt needs to do is work him until it milks the come right out of him.

Your head lolls back on your neck, supported at the edge of the sofa. “No more—” You don’t know if you mean it, but it is just on the verge of too much now. You’re so sensitive.

“Yes more.” He starts to lift his hips again, pulling back and shoving, not a lot, but enough that it’s like a little punch inside of you each time. “As much as I say.”

Whining, “No—I can’t.” You roll your hips against him though, the both of you moving, straining against each other, his wide hands around your waist shifting you up and down like a doll on his cock. Your eyes finally open again, and the sunlight spears in through the windows in buttery blinding shafts, sparkling dust motes dancing above as he fucks you. The sound is all so wet, everything from his lower belly to the open front of his jeans is soaked. “I don’t like it anymore,” you lie.

“I don’t care,” and he gives you the first really rough thrust, not a pounding but with enough strength behind it that you get that heat cramp again, feel like you’re going to wet yourself again, there’s so much pressure in your belly.

You’re going to come again. You are coming again. It feels like you should say thank you.

He laughs, little cock sleeve, and you can’t understand how it’s so intense when the fucking is so slow—so good anyways—who cares about anything. His name slips through your lips without them moving, and he’s laughing again, a little mean and you tell him so, but still tender, still endeared by you.

You push his face away weakly, a mumbled, “Nasty old man.”

Nuh uh, he hums, taking both of your wrists in his grip and pressing them back to the leather edge on either side of your head, forcing you into an arch so that he can latch his teeth at your throat and suck. The rolling of his hips pick up speed, just that little bit, the heat coming off him boiling up to steaming and his sweat drips onto your skin and disappears inside of you—everywhere you’ve got him inside of you.

“Birth control?” All broken up with pants and your jugular between his teeth.

Flexing fingers, hands going away to numbness, he’s got you held so tightly, not being so careful of his strength anymore, his cock drags and it’s so wet and sensitive and swollen inside of you, it feels like he barely fits even more than it did before, like there’s definitely no more space inside of you for him at all.. “Yeah—ye—ah, ahh,” can’t get your voice to come out right with your clit grinding against his pelvic bone like that. “Implant right here.” You turn your face towards your left arm, tipping your nose the hidden little bump right beneath your skin. He clicks his tongue, kissing it softly.

“Poor baby. That’s good. That’s real good, baby. Just be good and lemme come in you now. It’s okay.” He spreads his thighs wider, pushing up with his knees into you now. Oh fuck— “But you gotta give me one more. I want it—it’s mine.” And the way he’s got you arched, the spot he hits inside is more intense than the others. He grunts rougher now, biting your throat so hard you’ll be left bruised all over and on the inside too. One palm lets go of your wrist to grip your bottom, long fingers slotting on either side of his impaling cock, pulling you to him so tightly the orgasm is squeezed out of you forcibly and hurts all the worse for it. You’re limp and boneless now, and he starts to pump his come into you in thick spurts, belly all suffused with heat and your name a groan in his throat.

His fingers, parted around his splitting cock rub at the slippery skin of your labia, back and forth to your asshole, holding and cupping the place he’s claimed, and he comes so long, hunched over and rutting into you, filling and filling until the wet squelch is even louder and you can feel the thick come being forced out of your stuffed full cunt.

You want to say his name, trying to move your lips, but your tongue rolls uselessly inside your mouth, all you are is a shivering cunt, a muscle spasming and spasming around him. He nuzzles at your throat, finally unlatching his teeth, licking away the hurt, pressing a soft kiss to the sore spot. You can feel him playing in the leaking wet now, fingering at your puffy cunt, well fucked and filled.

You want to tell him you didn’t think that the bikini was going to make this happen, pull this out of him.

At least not like this. You don’t think you could’ve ever imagined it’d be like this.

His mouth, hot on your jaw once more before he finally picks up his head to look at you, and his eyes make you want to cry, all that manic heat is gone now, replaced by some softly smoldering ember. You don’t think anyone in all the world has eyes the color of hazel he’s got. Something that should belong to some fiercely guarded precious stone, they glow, amber opal like, burnished in the setting sun’s golden glow.

“You okay?” His voice is very soft, and only for you.

You nod, chin tipping to your sternum, face flushed with so much unbearably pleased heat you’re unable to find your own.

Tilting his head to get at your mouth, he kisses you long and soft and open mouthed, licking your tongue, tasting you completely. And when he pulls back he has that same look you feel on your own face—that same unbearable pleasure. Shocked wonder sprinkled into it.

Look at what we’ve done and together and how good it is—

A smile and then a laugh from both of you, giggling like school children into each other’s mouths, and you’ve always thought he has some strange effect of appearing all man one second and then smiling and boyish for the flash of a single moment the next. And you don’t think you understand how someone who’s been through so much can still laugh the way he does. You smooth your finger over the arch of his eyebrow, thumbing at the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. Gorgeously strong man, and you suppose, looking at the wider picture, his life here, Ellie and the boys and a whole full life, you understand it, just a little bit—all the ranch’d given him. He has so much here—centered by the land as its heart.

You’ve always wanted to be just like him anyway, and finally, voice found—the feel of his heartbeat inside of you—it’s like finding a dream, “I’m okay,” you tell him.

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#fable of the dog fic #vic fic #joel miller fanficition #joel miller x ofc #Joel miller smut #the last of us AU #joel miller fic

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miguelhugger2099 · 8 months ago

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To be Known is to be Loved

Summary: It’s so easy to forget the little things. But Miguel loves you so he remembers. A/N: I’m on writers block so please forgive me for the lack of fics. I hope some fluff with suffice. Art: nellwhre17 on instagram No warnings, Fluffy

You hated being on your feet all day. Your soles were sore, your toes scrunched together in your shoes and you were pretty sure your laces were cutting off your circulation. You wanted nothing more than to take everything off and lie in bed.

So, once you opened the door to your home, tossing the keys to the couch, you crouched down to shove your shoes off. You were too impatient to slip off your shoelaces, settling for a fight of just ripping your shoes off your feet. Once the pair had flopped away from you, you wiggled your toes and sighed in relief.

“Mig?” You call out, searching for your boyfriend’s comfort after a long day. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your fuzzy slippers right beside the couch where you had thrown your keys. It wouldn’t have been unusual since you often left your slippers by the door before you leave for work, but you were in a hurry today–Miguel must’ve moved them for you.

With a tired smile, you wobble over to them and slide them on. Its warm softness were heaven on your sore feet and you heard the pats of Miguel’s heavy footsteps. You look up to see Miguel give you a soft smile.

“Hi.” He whispers, a dry towel in hand. By the smell coming off of it, it seemed it was freshly washed and dried. He looks off to the side and sees your shoes discarded in opposite directions. He makes the move to collect the pair and set it on the shoe rack neatly. Miguel looks down at you on the floor and hands the towel to you. “I already showered so here.”

You take the towel with a bright grin. You were already feeling better.

When you had woken up from your nap, you instinctively crawl out of bed to search for Miguel. You found him in the living room, TV volume as low as possible with all the lights turned off. You could never sleep if even the smallest of light peeked in your room. Miguel’s jaw moved and his mouth opened to pop something in his mouth and you realized he was snacking on something.

You take a step forward on the wooden floor and it creaks, signaling your appearance. Miguel raises his eyebrows and turns his head to face you. He relaxes.

“Finally up?” He asks. The TV continues to play a random novela–something from the 2000s based on the camera quality.

“Yeah,” You croak out, voice hoarse from the long nap you took. Miguel pats the seat next to him and urges you closer with his hand. You follow his command, plopping beside him and instantly, you two fall in place. His hand around you protectively and your body smushed to his side.

Your eyes glance at the snack in his hand and you realize it’s actually candy. A rectangular packet of Starbursts. You look back up at Miguel, your vision seeing his side profile and you speak up, “Can I have some?”

Miguel takes his arm up and off you. He then takes the packet and rips it open and reveals the different colored cubes of flavor. He carefully plucks out the pink ones—sweet strawberry flavor—and places it in your outstretched palm. Then, he places the red ones—cherry flavored— with the pinks ones.

You smile to yourself, already unwrapping the candy and chewing on the taffy. You watch as Miguel keeps the yellows away from you, instead taking it upon himself to eat those.

He didn’t understand your need to be picky about the flavor and color, but usually you’d want it so he’d give it to you no questions asked. No reminders either.

Miguel settled his arm around you again, gnawing on the taffy and plucking the pieces that got stuck on his teeth. You snuggled back up to him happily, while you ate the strawberry and cherry Starburst.

If there was anything you shamelessly loved to do, it was kissing Miguel. He didn’t mind at all. Despite his introverted nature, he couldn’t help but smile with each extra kiss you’d give him.

He was sure you never noticed this one thing about yourself. Maybe you did but he doesn’t think so. It was his favorite quirk of yours.

Sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll be so smitten when he initiates a kiss first that you’ll keep your eyes closed just to give him another chance to kiss you. A opportunity he's always willing to grab.

He liked pulling away and seeing you still, small smile playing on your lips and awaiting another smooch. And like a routine, he lifts your chin higher up and your lips quirk up higher. The tip of his thumb grazes your bottom lip and he leans down just enough to where your lips are brushing against each other. He watches your mouth twitch and your eyebrows scrunch when you could only barely feel him. Miguel finally leans down and kisses you again and he places a hand on your waist to feel you melt in his embrace.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader reblog #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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superblysubpar · 8 months ago

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thank you so much for requesting anon, and thanks for your patience in waiting for this. Hope you like where I took it 😅 Is it a hushed conversation between kisses? Idk. Do they kiss? Kind of. Do they need to be quiet? yes?

1164 words

warnings: SMUT (finger sucking| PIV intercourse - creampie | technically you're camping & have to be quiet for this reason, but it's not really explicitly stated) | my blog is 18+

Despite the hot breath at your temple dotted with sweat, goosebumps rose on your skin. It seemed only Steve Harrington could pull them from you, the sort of primal reactions and sounds your body couldn’t deny.

He had a knack for it - a useless talent to some, an addiction if you asked him, a weapon he absolutely knew how to wield in your opinion.

Maybe it’s the way his hand curled on your hip. The way the rough pads of his fingertips soothed against heated skin. How they skated over elastic and snapped it against your body, accompanied by his mouth opening against the hinge of your jaw he’d traveled down to.

Not kissing you. Not licking or sucking. Just opening his mouth and breathing.

You hated that you whined.

Steve smiled against your neck, he couldn’t help it. And if he wasn’t painfully hard against your ass, he’d do this all night long.

He let his nose drag lower, then back up, indulging in the scent of you - mixed with the lake and bonfire, something sweet and smoky - addicting, like a freaking smore. Like he could have twenty of you and never be full or sick from such a sweet treat. He paused just behind your ear as his fingers slipped over the wet cotton in front of you and he felt your body go rigid against him, like you were holding your breath.

Everything was louder - your heartbeat in your ears, the crickets, the faint crackle of the dying fire now popping and hissing loudly as you waited. Your bare legs slipped against the cool sleeping bag, fingers digging into the flannel pillowcase as your teeth did the same to your bottom lip.

When Steve finally brushed a finger over cotton, giving the part of you throbbing and aching for attention, you gasped, hips wiggled quickly, searching for more, and he pulled away as soon as they did.

You groaned, loudly, and his hand was quick to jump over your mouth, which only had your eyes rolling back.

“Honey,” he spoke directly into your ear and his cheek pulled between his teeth when he saw how the press of his lips there had your eyelashes fluttering. “If you can’t be quiet…” He started to pull his body away, and your hands caught his wrist, keeping him locked around you.

Steve swallowed, watching from over your shoulder how your chest heaved, glistening with sweat. Your shirt and little sleep shorts guilty of this whole scenario he finds himself in, discarded and crumpled in the corner of the tent. He could have removed those from you an hour ago, his brain’s a little fuzzy - senses in overdrive wanting to get every sigh and whimper and twitch of your body he could get out.

“Please,” you begged in a hoarse whisper, turning your head as his hand fell from your lips, but not straying to far, fingers curled around your chin, thumb soothing over your jaw. Your nose drags over his before lips pressed a wet and desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be good, please.”

You watched him under heavy lids, taking in the pink flush of his cheeks, blown out pupils quickly replacing the honey in his eyes, so you took his hand and pressed two fingers to your lips, and waited.

Steve’s throat bobbed as your tongue licked the pad of one, running up the seam of the digits pressed together until you were taking both tips into your mouth and sucking.

He wasn’t the only one who had a weapon to wield, who had an addiction to getting those same primal reactions out of him.

Your cheeks hollowed, his eyelids grew heavy, fluttering as his cock twitched against you and a rumble of something in his chest pressed into your spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, forehead knocking your temple as he rolled his hips against you.

He quickly pulled his fingers from where they were flattened over your tongue, wet fingers pushed down your black underwear and then his own. Steve’s length slipped between your legs, before his arm was wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him as his tip glided through your slick.

“So wet, baby,” he whined into your ear, fingers digging into your abdomen as you shivered when he pressed at your entrance. “Jus’ for me? Jus-just waiting for this all night?”

You nodded, warmth flooding your body at his words, the truth of them, and the way he pushed slowly inside of you.

Fingers gripped his forearm that only tightened around you, before his hand roamed down, over your thigh and back up to your hip, pulling you open so he could slip in deeper.

Steve made a sort of strangled noise against the back of your neck, pressed fully against your ass as your head fell back in a gasp, resting on his shoulder. He sat still, twitching inside of you until you were throbbing around him, fingers digging into the cool material beneath you and nodding, silently telling him to move.

It was all slow drags out and a forceful thrusts back in, each one picking up speed, making you both try to hold in your ragged and loud breaths. Steve pressed his nails into your thigh, nose and lips a ghost along your shoulder. Your walls sucking him in, yet coating him in slick in a way you hadn’t before had him quietly cursing, swearing and praising you in the same breath.

He scratched up your thigh when your hips rolled back against him, lips finding his neck and pressing kisses to any skin you could reach. His fingertips slipped over your clit, quietly swearing again at how wet you were and how you moaned when he made a second figure eight over the bundle of nerves.

“Steve,” you spoke into his jaw, fingers curled in the hair at the back of his neck, the other tugging at anything in front of you to hold on to as he pounded into you harder, but at the same consistent rhythm. As his tip hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, the place only Steve Harrington had a knack for finding or being able to reach, white heat poured over you, heartbeat rushing in your ears as he took you higher.

He could feel you squeezing around him, feel the way your body shook against his, his own orgasm held off until you opened your mouth just below his ear.

You didn’t kiss him. You didn’t lick or suck or bite. You were just breathing.

A harder tug of his hair in your fingers, an arch of your back, eyelids fluttering, and a sort of hitched breath that warmed across his skin all made him fall over the edge he’d taken you both to. As goosebumps erupted down his arms, he spilled inside of you, both of you gripping the others body like it was your only way out alive.

He hated that he whined.

You smiled against his neck, you couldn’t help it.

#superbly subpar steve smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

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moralesluvr · 27 days ago

Text

GANG BABY | b. eilish.

“she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit.” ft. subtop!billie (blake i love you!)

the bass of a rap song thrums through the club so loud that it rings in your chest, replacing your own heart beat as your eyes fixate on the neon lights that strobe each and every way, illuminating your face and bright silver jewelry as you strutted over to the bar by yourself. you broke off from one of your friends and told her where you were going before you perched over the counter.

“can i get a whiskey sour?”

the bartender adheres to your request with a nod, and you gladly take your drink and take a seat on one of the stools, indulging in some quiet people watching. sure, the club was fun— but all your friends were wasted and off with their significant others, and this was your chance to wind down a little bit and try to enjoy a few moments of peace.

well, emphasis on trying. you have your moment of peace for about five seconds before some guy comes up to your seat at the bar, tapping you on the shoulder lightly and peering down to where his face is next to yours. he’s obviously drunk— and smells of liquor mixed with his disgustingly strong cologne. his grin is sleazy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “can i buy you a drink, pretty lady?”

“no, sorry, i don’t drink.” you reply cockily, taking a sip from your whiskey just to prove a point that you want him to leave you alone.

he doesn’t back off, though. they never do.

he leans a little closer to you now, “oh, come on. just a drink is all— i promise i don’t bite, unless you’re into it.”

“i’m not.” you reply harshly, your former smile fading away. you were trying to be nice to him although he was making your skin crawl, but you could tell he wasn’t the type to back down at all.

“you don’t have to be shy.” he speaks, dropping his voice like he thinks it’s sexy. and it isn’t, and you can feel yourself literally gag as he keeps speaking, playing with the rim of his glass, “why are you being so difficult? just let me buy you a drink.”

you can’t really contain your anger much longer. you slam your cup onto the counter and give him fiery eyes, “i know you’re only wanting to buy me a drink so you can drug me or some shit, and get me to have sex with you. look, you’re cool or whatever— but i’m celibate anyways. so leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s seconds away from getting up to holler and scream at you as a rebuttal, before you hear a loud and clearly voice coming from close behind you,

“do you not have ears? get the fuck away from her.”

you turn your head to the side slowly to meet eyes with a pair of ocean blue ones, and your eyebrow raises slightly. it’s billie.

the only thing you knew about her was that she was pretty famous, and had been staring you down in the club ever since you and your girls walked in. you couldn’t say that you didn’t return her looks, though— she was beautiful, and her energy seemed so likable even though you had only shared smiles and quick glances.

she looks casual, resting her elbow on your shoulder as she broke eye contact to look at the weird guy, who now looked timid. she cocked her head to the side at him as a challenge, and his former ‘big and bad’ behavior seemed to subside as his eyes softened.

“who are you?” he asks timidly, and billie kissed her teeth as she gave him a disapproving glare.

“her girlfriend.”

the lie comes out so effortless, and billie’s voice is so even, like she believes what she just said. the guy’s whole face drops and you wished you could take out your phone and snap a picture, because it was priceless. he let out a soft gasp as you shrugged nonchalantly, adding to the lie, “yup. so fuck off, weirdo— i’m a lesbian.”

the guy doesn’t say anything, he just scoffs— looking between the two of you like he doesn’t believe what you just said. but then billie shifts closer to you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek, and that seems to make him uncomfortable— so he mutters something under his breath as he walks off, sinking back into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and billie lets go of your waist and backs up a bit.

“your girlfriend, huh?” you giggle, raising an eyebrow.

billie steps back, clearly a little shy as she shrugged, thought you could tell she was a little nervous by the way a pink hue dusted her cheeks, “i— well, just looked like you needed help.”

you chuckle, amused by her sudden shift from confident to awkward. she had seemed so bold the whole time you eyed her in the club, and her change in demeanor intrigued you. you flipped your hair to the side and smiled flirtatiously, “and what do you want in return?”

she hesitates, then grins, a flicker of her earlier cockiness returning, “maybe just a dance.”

“bold of you to ask,” you tease, but there’s no bite to your words. you wanna push her, figure her out, make her wonder what her next move is gonna be before she makes it. it’s clear that she’s never talked to someone that’s as bold as you are, because she seemed so much more ‘hard’ from across the club than she is right now.

“i can be bold,” billie murmurs, her voice quieter now, her eyes flickering to yours and then away, like she’s not sure how far she can push now. it’s confusing to you, but kind of entertaining, so you shrug and bite your lip,

“yeah? well prove it.”

her breath catches, but she doesn’t back down. instead, she holds out a hand, waiting for you to take it. and so you oblige.

you let her lead you to the dance floor, the crowd folding outwards around you as the music shifts to something slower, something heavier. the weeknd’s discography is on shuffle as billie’s hands find your waist again, pulling you closer, her touch firmer now but still cautious, her anxiety so very obvious.

“you’re nervous?” you say, but it comes out more like a statement than a question. you kiss your teeth in amusement, leaning in just enough for her to hear you over the music.

“oh, i’m not.” you think she’s lying at first until her ringed hands find the flesh of your ass, her fingers grazing over the exposed skin through your shorts, grasping at it lightly.

you let out a gasp that falls inaudible due to the loud music, but billie can see your jaw drop slightly as she gave you a smirk. her eyes were glossy and hungry for you as she tapped your waist, “something wrong?”

now you looked like a deer in headlights as you shook your head now, your skin hot with half surprise and half arousal as you smiled through your surprise. it was a contest now, almost— who could be more forward, who could push the other harder.

before you could second-guess yourself, you close the gap, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that’s soft but unrelenting. billie freezes for a split second before melting into it, her hands tightening on your waist as she kisses you back with more force than you expected.

her lips are warm, hesitant at first, out of respect. but then she deepens the kiss, a quiet, needy sound escaping her throat that sends a shiver coursing through your nerves, making your skin tingle.

the club's heat feels suffocating now, the bass of music pulsing through your chest as bodies hazily move around you in a blur, billie's hands still gripped onto your waist. she's what's grounding you as people move past left and right, mumbling drunken apologies and trying their best not to spill anything on you.

billie eyes that were once timid and sweet morph into something much sharper, her breaths coming in uneven little gasps, "come on, we're getting the fuck out of here. it's too crowded."

though her voice is airy and light per usual, her directions are commanding, not really leaving you room to disagree or offer a rebuttal.

before you can respond, her hand is sliding down to yours, her fingers intertwining with your own as she leads you through the crowd, and your heart is fucking racing. billie's usual easy confidence has flown out the window, replaced by something much more urgent and primal. it's like a flip switched, and fear laced with a little excitement tugged at your heart.

she looks back at you as the two of you throng through a sea of sweaty and dancing bodies, making sure that you're still following her. and of course you are— how could you not?

when you push the doors open to the club, the cool air outside hits your face quickly like a shock, but billie doesn't stop. her hand squeezes yours tightly as she leads you down the dimly lit street, her silence deafening to you as you follow her lead, almost skipping over your own heeled feet. the thrum of music that sounds from the club fades out slowly as she leads you to her car, opening your door.

she doesn't speak. she just grabs your jaw with a strong, ring-clad hand, giving you a sloppy kiss on your lips, smearing whatever was left of your lipstick before slamming the car door shut, opening her own.

billie cranks the engine and pulls out the parking lot, wheels screeching as she used the palm of her hand to reverse, and you swear that you really could've came right then and there.

she's leaned back a little bit, her loud music shaking the seat beneath you as she mouths some of the lyrics. you watch her movements deliberately— her free hand snapping to the beat, head bopping, lips in a pretty pout— you were practically losing your shit at how hot she was.

and this must've looked so bad on you. going home with some random popstar just because she saved you from some creep— but could anyone really blame you? she was beautiful.

billie almost looks like she could be mad at you from how tight her jaw is clenched, how her knuckles bleed white as the streetlights around you fleet out of your sight, pulling slowly into the driveway. you sneak a look at her and see that she's biting her lip, hard, and the way her jaw ticks and her chest heaves makes you nothing but more anxious.

"billie—" you start, but she cuts you off, her voice firm and strong.

"inside. now."

the command is simple, sending a jolt up and down your spine as you oblige, pushing open your door without a response, because your response was how pathetic your obedience was.

you're scared, if you're being honest. you're usually always in control, molding situations to fit to your liking— you never let anyone else just tell you what to do. but it seemed different now, like the situation was out of your hands. but you kind of liked it.

you waited patiently for billie to unlock the door, and when she does, she's immediately all over you. her hands find your waist, pulling your body against her own as her lips forcefully find yours. it's rough, almost desperate the way she kisses you, her teeth grazing your bottom lip seductively.

billie's hands roam to your sides as she pulls away from the kiss, her fiery eyes softening only a little, "you have...no idea what you do to me, and i don't even know your name."

she sounds almost frustrated by it. you whisper to her your name as graze your fingertips against her arms, "show me then, billie. show me what i do to you."

you expect her to say something cocky, but she just grabs a fistful of your shirt, pulling you closer to her as she forces your feet to walk a pattern that you don't know, all the way up the stairs and into her bedroom.

there's a shit ton of sound equipment scattered around, cool pictures and thrifted antiques decorating the walls and her dresser. she's got a long wall of vinyls hanging up in color order adjacent to the wall that holds some of her most cherished sneakers. you try to take it all in, but billie's a girl on a mission, scooping you up quickly as your legs wrap themselves around her waist.

when she sets you down on the edge of the bed, you start to open your mouth, but she's already a step ahead of you. billie kisses you like she's trying to make up for every millisecond she hasn't, soft lips molding onto yours as you find yourself underneath her, melting into her covers with her force that leaves you breathless.

"fuck, angel, you're so—“ she breaks off her sentence, her voice low and rough enough that you feel yourself grow wetter, billie's lips finding themselves on your jaw, nipping at the flesh sweetly, but enough to leave and mark. she makes a trail of hickeys from your jaw all the way to your neck, "— so perfect. i need you."

her words make your stomach flip, heat pooling in your pussy as billie's hands only start to further wander. they slide under your shirt easily, curiosity oozing out of the tips of her fingers as she plays with the lace of your bra.

"you've been driving me insane since i first fucking saw you." billie breathes out with honesty, her words disappearing into your neck as her teeth graze against a soft spot on your flesh, nibbling at it before soothing it with her tongue.

a soft gasp leaves you, your hands tangling underneath billie's shirt in a desperate attempt to keep her close. "yeah? well, what are you gonna do about it, hm?"

billie's head lifts, and her eyes lock into yours, dark and full of something unknown that makes your heart stop. all she needed was your bitchy little statement to get her worked up, her hands maneuvering skillfully against your body. she pills your shirt up in a swift motion, right over your head, her gaze dropping to take you in. her lips part, her breath hitching as her hands skim over your sides, her touch reverent now— like she's scared to touch you. to break you.

"you're so beautiful, such a pretty girl." she breathes, her voice so soft that it makes your chest ache.

her fingers find the clasp on your bra, her eyes flicking to yours for permission, which you give her with a nod. she unhooks it, catching the cups on her hands and tossing it to the side.

billie's slow with her actions, contrast from how hungrily she touched and kissed you earlier. her fingertips run across your thighs with passion, open mouth placing sloppy kisses on your abdomen like she's got all the time in the world. it's almost like a massage, the way she touches you— appreciating every single inch of your skin with tender love and care.

a kiss to your hip. "you're so pretty."

a kiss to your thigh. "just wanna make you feel good."

she yanks your skirt off. "need you so bad."

a kiss to your clothed clit is what makes billie stop talking. her fingers hook in the sides of your panties before pulling them down with a swift motion, making you gasp at the contact of cool air.

she can't stop herself. the way billie whimpers when her tongue slips into you, replaced by her wet fingers, it's all too much for her.

she rests her hand on your thigh as she squeezes it gently, "does this....feel good? am i doing a good job?"

you think it's cute the way she asks you, and you respond with a nod as her name breathily escapes your lips. her fingers are curling into you with a speed that seems inhumane, billie's thumb on your sensitive clit pushing your orgasm to be stronger and stronger. you can feel yourself unravel on her digits, a wave of pleasure so so close as your back arches off the covers, fingers digging into billie's soft comforter.

"bills— fuck!" you screech, and you can't even finish your sentence as you cum all over billie's fingers, coating them with your arousal as she kisses your clit, still fingering you slowly as you come down from your high.

you're still sensitive as ever when billie smiles against your sex, "was that good, love? you feel amazing, god— just squeezin' around me...so tight…”

you start to open your mouth and reply to billie's question, but you gasp as you feel her fingers brush harder and harder up against that sweet spot inside you, and you're seeing stars as you try to relax, but it's just too much.

"billie...n-no more..." you whine, your whole body tingling due to the sensitivity. but you watch as the dark-haired girl pouts,

"please...i just wanna make you feel good, i’m sorry— is that okay? can i?” billie almost pouts at you, and you can’t say no, especially because she’s looking up at you with such sweet and gentle eyes that are just hungry for you, wanting nothing but to pleasure you. so you oblige, letting her finger-fuck you gently yet powerfully enough to bring on your second orgasm.

billie feels you tighten up around her fingers, thrusting a little deeper into you as she coaxes that last drop of pleasure out of you, “cum for me baby, it’s okay…”

you feel your orgasm wash over you, making your skin hot as little moans and whines escape your lips. your eyes shut for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you sigh. you hear billie shift next to you, planting a kiss on your forehead as you heave, looking over at her. “again in a little?”

billie giggles, stroking your cheek with a free hand as she backs up, making a jokingly confused face,

“i thought you were celibate, huh?”

“nah,” you giggle, “you can always nail my shit.”

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