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shsy7573 · 10 months

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We’re in This Together - Ch. 6

For more info or chapter index, see overview post

DISCLAIMER: I do not own own Voyager or any of the characters in this fic (except for the aliens. Those were my creation.)

*This story is not beta-read and has not been edited or proof-read in any way! This was just something I threw together over the past three days and decided to post as my first entry on this site!*

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CHAPTER SIX

After another hour or so of walking, the Captain’s interest peaked when she noticed some sort of light starting to shine at the end of the tunnel. At first she thought -or hoped - that it was daylight. Perhaps they’d come across some sort of crater in the planet that the tunnel led inside of.

Her hopes were quickly disproven, though, when she noticed the unnatural colour. Natural light didn’t really have a hue, aside from the golden appearance it took on in the early morning. This light had a purplish tint to it.

As the pair drew closer to the source, they found themselves having to shelter their eyes.

B’Elanna immediately grumbled at the sudden change of scenery. “Is there a way to turn it off?”

Janeway’s eyes twinkled as her eyes adjusted enough for her to look around freely, “not unless you want to bring the whole cavern down on us.”

“I’ll take my chances,” the Lieutenant remarked, pulling her own hand away so that she could look around. What she saw stunned her.

“Woah!”

The tunnels had opened up again to another cave. This one, however, wasn’t just a plain boring pocket of earth. It was bright! Scattered across the entire room were clusters of glowing, light purple rocks.

Almost immediately, both women pulled out their tricorders. The scientific wonder of this cave had thoroughly managed to capture their attention.

As the Captain walked over to one of the walls, that interest was only deepened. According to the tricorder, the wall and the glowing stones were made up of the exact same elements.

“Captain,” B’Elanna said, walking over. “I’m not sure but… it looks like these stones are just… highly condensed versions of the planet’s crust material.”

Janeway nodded, “yes, it would appear so”

“I always kind of thought it was strange how light the tunnels were. I mean, obviously not as bright as this, but—“

“I get what you mean,” the Captain said, staring at the wall. Who could have known that beyond all the terror and dread these tunnels held, they actually had their own little bits of wonder.

“We should probably keep moving.” B’Elanna whispered. Her tone seemed far away, disconnected, but the reminder of their mission seemed to snap both of them out of their trance.

“Yes,” Janeway murmured, looking to her companion, “yes, of course.” Her tone held a little more weight this time, and she forced her brain to snap back into line.

As the starfleet officers exited the cave, back into the shadows of the tunnel system, they held onto the bliss brought about by the crystals.

“When we get back to Voyager, you’re going to have to remind me of that place. Otherwise, I might start thinking it was some kind of fever dream.”

“Of course, Captain. Something tells me I’ll want to remember anyways.”

A little over an hour later, the tunnel they were travelling through began to start winding. It seemed like every ten steps or so it would bend one way, and then after a little bit it curved back the other way.

The Captain and Lieutenant shared a look. If they got caught here, manoeuvring would be difficult. Without saying a word, the pair quickened their pace.

A couple minutes later, the wall to their right began to break up. At first, there would be random holes opening to another tunnel not too far away. Then, as the tunnels grew closer, the thick wall of stone morphed into large pillars. Then, the pillars broke up into spikes coming from the floor and ceiling.

Almost instantly, they heard the scuttling echoing towards them from the other tunnel. B'Elanna and Janeway backpedalled, trying to keep their own footfalls as silent as possible. Just as they were reaching the pillared section, a herd of five Arachnomen came into view. The starfleet officers quickly pressed themselves against the pillars, hardly even breathing as the creatures passed no more than a couple feet behind them.

To say that every hair on Kathryn’s arm was standing up would be an understatement as to how terrified she was. She chanced looking over at B’Elanna, who had gone stiff as a board against the stone. Gripping her phaser tightly in her hand.

As the aliens passed by and made their way through to the joined passageway, Janeway motioned for B’Elanna to hide behind the side of the stone between the pillars. They waited, listening and waiting for the skittering to die to a faint shuffle, before daring to come out from their hiding place.

Suddenly, the Captain and her Chief Engineer were faced with a dilemma of choices. Did they follow the aliens down the tunnel, hoping to not be detected as they trailed behind the creatures for who knew how long? Or did they go the way the Arachnomen had come, and hope that it didn’t lead to even more spider-people.

They both looked at each other. Neither one was really certain of the best course of action. On one hand, the aliens could be heading to another one of the congregations. On the other hand, they could be coming from one.

After a couple moments of consideration, Captain Janeway inclined her head in the direction the aliens had come from. She decided that the immediate threat of these Arachnomen outweighs the potential threat of heading downwards. They had no idea what was down this tunnel, or what direction either one went. All they knew for certain was one had a threat, and one might have a threat.

B’Elanna gave a curt nod before falling into step with the Captain down the tunnel. Even through all of this, if anything else, she trusted Kathryn’s judgement.

Both starfleet officers hesitated slightly as they walked, taking one more moment to look behind them, before fully committing down the tunnel.

They could only hope they’d made the right choice.

The further they walked, the more they started to realise that this tunnel did not lead upwards. There were several instances where the ground would start declining, and the Captain would look back,wondering if they should turn around.

Three hours into the whole ordeal, she was really beginning to regret her decision. The pair had come across yet another fork in the road. The tunnel they were in carried on forward, but another one intersected it, creating a sort of four-way stop.

Janeway felt her heart rate increase slightly at the precipice of another decision. Suddenly she was aware of the head radiating from her skin, and both her’s and B’Elanna’s laboured breathing. She remembered her vow the other night, and so far the odds of fulfilling that promise were becoming more and more bleak. She’d already made one bad decision, how long until she made another? What if she made one right now? What then?

She shook her head, “we should go back.”

“We can't,” B’Elanna reasoned, “in a few hours we’re going to have to take shelter for the night. In the three hours we’ve been walking this way we know there aren’t any good spots. There’s no telling how long it will take to reach somewhere suitable going the other way. We have to keep going.”

Kathryn knew her Lieutenant was right, but she hated it.

Nevertheless, they couldn’t dwell on that now. Taking a deep breath, Kathryn walked up to the intersection point. She knew they were too far underground to be able to use any sort of air current, but perhaps getting a view of all the tunnels at once would make the choice easier.

As fate would have it, however, the decision was made for her. As she stepped to the opening of the tunnels, she caught the faint, but present sound of scurrying down the front and left tunnels.

Kathryn had never been so happy to hear that noise.

As the clicking of Archnomen voices grew louder, B’Elanna and Janeway quickly slipped down the right tunnel, walking as fast as possible without making enough noise to alert the creatures. All at once Kathryn feared that some of the aliens would veer down their tunnel, and they’d be stuck having to fight them. Her only response to that was to walk faster.

As they continued walking, B’Elanna limping, and Janeway pushing through a cloud of fever, it became apparent that that’s exactly what happened. Most of the Arachnomen’s footfalls fell away, but the distinct clacking of a small number of individuals still remained.

It was pretty apparent at this point that the Arachnomen didn’t have any sort of supersences that would alert them to the earthling’s presence. No heightened sense of smell or hearing. That was good. It meant so long as the pair stayed out of sight, they’d be fine. Unfortunately it was hard to stay hidden in a long, relatively straight tunnel.

As the Captain and Chief Engineer came upon a long straight portion of the tunnel, Janeway came up with a plan.

“We need to get as far into this section as we can. I’ll keep watch behind us. As soon as the first one rounds the corner, start firing,” she whispered in a low voice. In response, B’Elanna raised her phaser, and smiled daringly.

Halfway down the tunnel, a singer pincer came into view. As soon as it did, both women wheeled around and began firing.

To their luck, there were only two Arachnomen, and both were fairly easily subdued. Being taken by surprise with no way of reaching the duo quick enough, it didn’t take much for them to fall to the ground.

Certain that the sound of the phaser fire would attract at least one more alien to the scene, B’Elanna and Janeway quickly moved on.

Three and a half hours later, there was a large dip in the terrain. The ground dropped rapidly, creating a three foot tall lip in the ground. As B’Elanna and the Captain leaped down, the former careful not to land on her injured foot, they noticed a small opening at the base of the lip.

Carefully, the Captain poked her head through the gap to discover a fairly spacious little cavern. The ground around the outside of the cave was just a little lower than the floor of the tunnel. In the centre, however, a large slab of stone jutted out from the ground, reaching halfway to the ceiling.

Exchanging a hopeful glance, the girls climbed inside. It seemed like a pretty nice set up. And, as they got closer to the slab in the centre, they realised that it was shaped like some sort of crater. The outside stone reached up, but quickly curved back down to create a nice little divot in the centre. The dip was just big enough for Torres and the Captain to fit somewhat comfortably inside.

As she got herself situated, Kathryn smiled. This was probably the most comfortable camp they’d discovered yet. The stone in the middle of the lip was much softer, and sandier than that of the walls and tunnel floors. The Captain got into a fairly comfortable reclining position as she pulled the rations from her bag.

B’Elanna followed Janeway’s example, pulling out her rations and beginning to feast idly on them. As she did, she took notice of the Captain's slow, slightly hesitant movements. She didn’t suppose that stomaching rations with a fever was much fun, so she decided to offer up a distraction.

“Captain.”

Janeway hummed in response, lifting her head to look at her Chief Engineer.

“What would you say has been your favourite part about the Delta Quadrant?”

Janeway thought about this for a moment, “I’m not sure. We’ve been through so many things in the past years…”

Torres smiled, “I know what you mean.”

“I suppose I’d have to pick just one thing… it would be the chance to experience all these things. Life in the Alpha Quadrant, although full of its own surprises, could never compare to all the firsts we’ve experienced here. We’ve discovered more cultures, more phenomenons and more types of technology than anyone back home could even dream of. In a way, knowing that even the Delta Quadrant is full of so much diversity… It makes the universe feel a little less lonely.”

Lieutenant Torres nodded along slowly as Kathryn spoke. It was true. They had been through a lot. Recorded more data than any one singular starship would normally receive on a single mission.

And yet…

“I don’t know. It feels pretty lonely to me.”

The Captain didn’t say anything, just kept looking at B’Elanna. The half-klingon took her silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“I mean, we are all alone out here. The only humans in seventy-thousand light years! We have no idea what’s ahead, or if we’ll even make it home at all.”

Kathryn nodded, “but we still keep going.”

Torres rolled her eyes at this, “well, obviously. But, seriously Captain, you can’t honestly say you’ve never felt lonely out here, can you?”

Janeway’s face darkened, and she suddenly found great interest in the ground next to her. B’Elanna, deciding to use the woman’s tactics against her, decides not to say anything. Instead, she waited as the Captain found her words.

“Of course I have,” she glowered, tone defeated. Immediately she regretted it. She should not be admitting this. She was the Captain, these were the cards she’d been dealt. She shouldn’t complain about it to her subordinate. She shouldn’t complain about it to anyone. It was her problem. Her burden. B’Elanna didn’t need to hear about—

B’Elanna stopped the inner turmoil in its tracks. “Captain… It's alright. You… you can talk about it.”

It felt really weird to be the one reassuring her Captain. It wasn’t something she’d ever imagined herself doing. What could she say to make someone so composed, so much larger than life, feel better when they were upset. But the last couple of days had changed something between them, and she was all too aware of it as she asked the woman to open up.

Janeway sighed. “Do you know how… difficult it is to run a starship all by yourself? This was my first assignment as a Captain of Starfleet, and now I’m trapped halfway across the galaxy with no means of support. Everyone, every two-hundred members of this crew’s lives lie in my hands. I am solely responsible for getting them home in one piece. And sure, I have Chakotay, and Tuvok, and all my senior officers here to guide me… but… none of them have to go home, look the family of our fallen crew members in the eye and admit they failed them. I do. I am… all alone out here, and I—“ she took a deep breath, composing herself enough to not cry, before continuing, “I am so lonely. All the time.”

The cave was suddenly very quiet. B’Elanna didn’t know what to say, and Janeway was trying her hardest in her fever ridden brain to stay together. Things were only going to get worse, and here she was making herself look weak and dumb and sensitive.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was completely inappropriate of me. Just-x forget I said anything—“

“No!” B’Elanna blurted out. Without even thinking she reached forward and grabbed the Captain’s hand. “No I— it’s fine. It’s comforting, actually, knowing that you’re just as affected by this as the rest of us. But… you don’t have to feel alone, you know? You don’t have to keep it to yourself. Everyone on Voyager would understand if you just needed to talk about it. We care about you just as much as you do us.”

Janeway laughed a little, a genuine one. All breath. “I’m sure Starfleet would get a kick out of that.”

“If starfleet doesn’t like it, then maybe they should try spending three years alone in the Delta Quadrant!” Torres shot back. Her eyes glimmered with a dangerous, reassuring defiance.

“The truth is, Captain… Starfleet has no right to judge anything you do out here. Because, they don’t know what it’s like. They never will. So if they don’t like that, in all of this chaos, you have to lean a little more on your crew, who cares?!”

Janeway’s eyebrows went up as the Lieutenant spoke. Not in shock -that sort of attitude was just what she expected from her Chief Engineer - but in amusement.

“Yes… I suppose you have a point there.”

B’Elanna’s eyes sparkled, “of course I do. Now finish your rations, then get to bed. I’m taking first watch tonight.”

Kathryn, despite giving a disapproving glare, didn’t protest. Quietly the girls finished their meal and packed them back into the bags. As the Captain lowered herself deeper into the crater, B’Elanna came over so that she was sitting beside the woman’s head.

“Sweet dreams, Captain.”

#star trek #star trek voyager #kathryn janeway #b’elanna torres #platonic #maternal janeway #protective B’Elanna #mutual support #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #no beta we die like admiral janeway #look at the babies getting along #Also I sprinkled a little nonsense science at the start cuz I was bored of regular caves and I’m sure you were too

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smugraccoon137 · 2 years

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You ever think about how you don't actually what's inside your body? Only what you've been told

Like yeah you probably got a skeleton and organs and shit. Bit everybodies body is different. I had a friend that found a tooth growing into her skull. And that's how they found out she had a twin she absorbed in the womb. TWIN SKULL TOOTH

Anyways my point is. What fun surprises are inside of you huh?

#I hope when I die they open me up and find something fun #Like this magic spheres from when I was a kid #Chocolate filled with candy #I should tell my bf to fill my body with candy so when I do they can use it like a piñata #That's a good idea #Corpse pinata copyrighted #3 am thoughts #3 am nonsense #textpost #text #I am just a silly little man whose insides are filled with nougat #Please officer don-#Sprinkles start to spray from my open wound #silly thoughts

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beelz-bub · 7 months

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I offer you a Prohibitedwish fic that I've been crafting for a few days-- (I might make a continuation it's not really complete)

I don't have Ao3 so you'll have to bear with this format--

**It's SWF, only minor romance sprinkled in at the end because Scarab was messin with Prismo :)

"WAKE UP!"

(Scarab wakes up human Prismo after his dream fused with the host body. The two have an interesting interaction.)

The room was still, an endless buzzing could be felt throughout Scarab's body. The magic from the inner cube pulsated throughout his very being. It sent a chill down his exoskeleton whenever he thought about it. He loomed over the bed that cradled a sleeping Prismo. Scarab wasn't too familiar with sleep, as the immortal being he is, sleep was more optional. A last resort when exhausted. Even without extensive knowledge of the concept, he could tell Prismo was in a deep sleep. The way he was laying there, his cheek buried in his arms that cuddled his head. With the stillness of his body and slow breathing, he barely moved up and down as he breathed. Prismo had asked him before entering the inner cube to wake up his body, he supposedly had a surprise for him.

Scarab hesitated at first, knowing what happens to Prismo if the host body is disturbed. He wasn't concerned about "killing Prismo" but worried about being taken to the Citadel for killing him, or even being attacked by his guardians. His claw shook ever so slightly while hovering a few inches from the sleeping Prismo's face. Scarab took his hand away in frustration, "Tsk. Pathetic." he said to himself.

Since the room was so quiet, the sound of Scarab talking was enough to make Prismo roll onto his back. He mumbled nonsense, mouth wide open still completely unconscious. Scarab braced himself for a guardian to attack him, but nothing came out from the sleeping man's mouth besides an annoyingly loud snore. Scarab grunted in disgust, crossing his arms. He considered returning to the Time Room, having to touch this unconscious, drooling man made his insides crawl.

It had to be done though, so he camouflaged himself as a human to not get any gross Prismo germs on his precious exoskeleton. He reached out his now, soft human-like hand towards the man's chest, pressing down and shaking gently. Prismo didn't react, not even slightly. This made Scarab frustrated, he didn't even give him the time of day after finally giving in and doing what he asked. A little dramatic, considering Prismo is out cold. He moved his hand over to his shoulder, shaking him a little harder. This did get a reaction, Prismo had closed his mouth and squeezed his eyes together. His arms folded over his chest, but after he was settled, Prismo was already back to sleep.

Scarab didn't anticipate how hard waking him up would be. Prismo was in far deeper sleep than he could imagine. That meant it was time to put the foot down, with both hands, Scarab shook Prismo violently yelling, "WAKE UP ASSHOLE!"

Finally, "Ugh, w-what?" Prismo muttered, blinking his eyes a few times. Scarab let go, letting the man fall into the bed. Prismo began to rub his eyes groaning, "Where am I?" his voice was slurred, "What's happening?" he tried to focus his eyes on Scarab. He was a blurry figure in front of him, "Mm, who?" he asked very simply, reaching out to the figure.

"Don't try and touch me with your gross little hand, pest!" he hissed, stepping away from the bed, "I've already had to touch you enough!"

"Sc- Mm," he tried to say something but didn't finish. Instead, he sat up, away from Scarab, rubbing his eyes again. That time was more effective, he could now see the man in front of him clearly, although was still very dazed. He pointed, "Yuh, uh you look familiar-" he stuttered, struggling to talk.

"I would hope so." Scarab cleared his throat, "Now, what is this about? Why did you make me wake you up?"

"What?"

"Why did you make me wake you up?!" he repeated a lot louder.

"I uh," he rubbed his head, running his hands through his hair, "I don't know, wh- um what's even going on."

Scarab had enough and decided violence was the immediate solution in this scenario. He approached the confused Prismo and slapped him across the face, not too hard, but hard enough to wake the man up, "Get it together you dimwit!"

"AUGH- Ow!" Prismo yelled, rubbing his cheek, "What was that for?!" his eyes were wide, that smack definitely woke him up.

"Answer me! What is this about?"

"I don't know! I-" he continued to rub his cheek in thought. He could feel himself start to come through as if the person who was talking before was someone else. His black eyes faded into a light blue. Prismo took his hand away and made eye contact with Scarab, "Why do you look like that?" he asked, rather bluntly.

"I- ugh," Scarab stepped away from him, "What?!"

"You're like a person dude, what happened? It's way freaky," that obnoxious tone hinted to Scarab that he was finally talking to the real Prismo.

"I didn't want to touch you with my hands, so I camouflaged myself." he crossed his arms, annoyed that he would even need to explain such a thing. Anyone in their right mind would not want to touch a germ-covered sleeping man.

"Wow, I'm not that gross, Scarabby," he huffed, rubbing both of his cheeks and making an exaggerated pouty face. He took his hands away, "Anyway, surprise!"

Scarab just glared, refusing to say a word until Prismo gave him a better explanation than just "surprise". That explained nothing, he has asked him for an answer more than once already.

Prismo crawled over to the edge of the bed, "It's me! Look!" he giggled at Scarab's angry face, "I'm a person!" he pointed at himself.

"What. Is. This. About." Scarab snarled, he was starting to get under his shell.

"Ugh," Prismo rolled his eyes, sitting back in defeat, "I wanted to try this out again. I'm possessing my host body. Like a ghost or demon or something-" he ran his hand through his hair again, "I could always posses my body like this, but without someone to wake me up, I would just be sleeping forever until I got out of it."

"Ok." Scarab cocked his head to the side, "So why did you want to possess your host body like this?"

"Because~" he chimed, floated out of the bed, and then up and over Scarab, "It's fun!"

"You are a disgrace!" he yelled, annoyed with his careless and unprofessional attitude, "You have a job as Wishmaster and now you're running around in that sorry excuse for a body, for what? Fun?!"

"Yeah?" he was hovering upside down a few inches from the ground, "Dude no one's gonna come to the Time Room, relax-" he spun around and placed his feet down, "I still have my powers in the form. They just aren't as strong."

"You should be in your true form doing your job! Dampening your powers and avoiding work is shameful. I cannot believe you!"

"Scarabby you really need to get that stick outta your ass." he smirked, placing a hand on his hip, "I've been doing my job for like... Millions of years! I deserve a break now and then!"

"You do take breaks. You party, slack off, write your -ugh- fanfiction." he glared, "This is a step far above any of that, you're not even yourself!"

Prismo walked over and grabbed Scarab's hand who, surprisingly, allowed him to do so, "Come on, let's go do something fun."

"Fine." he gave in, there was truly no getting to Prismo. His laziness and stubborn attitude never listened to logic and reason.

As the pair entered the rest of the cube to make their way back to the Time Room, Scarab noticed something was off. Prismo's hand shook, barely holding on, "What is wrong with you?" he asked, with little care.

"Huh?" he turned around, letting go.

"Your hand was shaking. What's wrong?"

"Oh, ha!" he laughed nervously, "Well you see, I never really like... Held someone's hand before, I didn't even think you would let me," he started trailing off.

Scarab looked down at his hand, then back up a Prismo, "You were only trying to take me somewhere? I don't understand why that would make you nervous."

Prismo let out an exasperated breath, "Whoo ok, so-" he rubbed his face, "I don't really experience touch in my Wishmaster form. It's just like mild pressure. So -- touching your hand is like BOOM!" he pretends to make his head explode with his hands, "A whole bunch of new feels all in my hand!"

"So, what? You're overwhelmed by holding my hand?"

"Yeah, basically." he felt a tinge of nervousness rise in his throat, "Ah! N-not that I don't like holding your hand, and I don't mean that in like a... a weird way either! Like you said, I was just leading you somewhere, it shouldn't be anything weird," he just kept rambling on and on, unable to shut up, "Just a lot of strange feelings in my hand is all! It's different from the floor and stuff cause your hand is warm, c-cause of the skin! Y'know?"

"Hm." Scarab walked closer to Prismo who had been slowly inching his away from him. The two stood in silence while Scarab looked up, glaring at him. Prismo could feel the tension getting to him, he was so nervous he thought he would actually explode. Then, out of nowhere, Scarab reached up and grabbed Prismo's shoulders, holding him in place, "Would this also make you overwhelmed?" he inquired, oblivious to Prismo's burning face. He treated this like a science experiment.

"Uh..." he wriggled his shoulders around uncomfortably, "Yes? B-but not that much cause like um -- It's, I have my shoulders covered!" he gave Scarab an unconvincing smile.

"What if," he took one hand off and touched Prismo's cheek, "Hm." he rubbed it gently with his thumb. The heat radiating from his cheeks was now completely obvious to Scarab. He planned on abusing this information.

"W-whatcha doing bro?"

"Your face is warm. Do you feel ill?" he smiled, knowing the real reason why Prismo's face was red.

"Nah -- no! Of course not, I-I feel great!" his body stiffened up. He could feel Scarab push himself closer. The bug was even standing on his toes to level with Prismo's face.

"Curious~" he ran his thumb over Prismo's bottom lip, "Whatever could be the reason for your warm face then?" he teased.

"A-ah, um --- I," He could barely form a cohesive sentence. All of his thoughts spilled out of his head, there was only warm mush left in there. His limbs felt numb and shaky, adrenaline filled his human body like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Scarab leaned closer, only a few inches away from Prismo's face. With the tension rising, he prepared his lips for a kiss from Scarab, pressing his eyes together tightly.

Now for the fun part, Scarab had removed his human disguise, returning to his normal bug self. He pretended to be angry at Prismo's 'odd expression', "What are you doing?" his heart dropped immediately, and Scarab startled the poor man to his very core.

"NOTHING!" Prismo pushed himself away from Scarab, the hard exoskeleton being rather immobile. The shove sent him stumbling backward, "It was nothing! Sorry! I'm sorry-"

Scarab chuckled, "Come on," he turned to continue walking, "Let's just get to the Time Room already."

"Right! Yes, back to business as usual! Nothing weird going on at all, very good idea Scarabby-" he shuffled over, walking close behind him. Messing around with Prismo's feelings got a kick out of Scarab. Not that he didn't want to reciprocate, but it wouldn't be fun if he just handed himself over so easily. If Prismo wanted this, which he clearly does being as desperate for attention as he is, he'd have to fight for it.

Part 2 ->

#prismo #Scarab #prohibitedwish #Fic #adventure time #fionna and cake #prismo the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #scarab fionna and cake #the scarab #cosmic human prismo (my thang)

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anantaru · 9 months

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*points mic at you* miss yoru miss yoru thoughts about hsr men reaction to s/o whimpering and crying about their dick being too much for s/o to take?? 💕💕

including. blade & luka

cw. rough, sprinkle of dacryphilia, fem! reader

— blade

your soul practically jumps out of your frame when you feel blade's warm, yet rough fingers wrapping around your wet cheeks, digging his thumbs upwards until he’s got a pretty good hold on you.

"you think you can still take it?" as per usual, it is simply impossible for him to not tease you when he knows he's too big for your little cunt, dominating the conversation, always having to slide up into you slowly, until you're used to his girth and inches, until he fits perfectly in your warm, wet pussy and feels your tight hole contort over him.

you sob, scoff and twist your fingers into his hair, "y-yes!" trying to desperately ignore the heat probably turning your face aflame, but it’s getting harder to ignore how he almost split you in half, with the little, cute noises that escape your lips anyways, with the way blade's cock throbs just that much more when he looks down on you, his entire weight on top of you, his eyes, ominous.

"doesn't seem like it." he murmurs, shallowly grinding his cock into your pussy without trying hard.

only further proving that even the smallest movements could turn you into this, a fucked out mess and it's only because of him, blade can feel his overflowing pride pressing into him, tilting his head when you attempt to find your words, but end up moaning desperately when he feels like fucking you properly again.

— luka

you cry out luka's name in an ensemble of half-broken sobs and whines, but they die down in your throat, which was a first for you because you never felt this overstimulated, ever.

but you knew the reason as to why, because luka was ruthless with you tonight, it‘s a different kind of his touch and handles that you feel settle into your bones and limbs, slowed and perfected, and you can't get enough of it. that‘s the best part.

luka leans in close enough to breathe with you, lips featherlight grazing over each other as he looks into your glowing eyes, his hips pistoling into your soaked cunt. his tense muscles were the mirror of his lust, a clear indicator of an euphoric craving to make you cum and overflow you with his sticky seed.

"it's too much, baby?" he asks you bluntly, the sound edged, your boyfriend surely was confident and smug with such damn smirk plastered on his pretty, rosy lips and in any other cases, you'd love to put him back into his place, because luka knows how it feels when he's the one getting overstimulated, shaking and trembling when you ride his cock and pull out last second so he wouldn't be able to taste his sweet climax.

"yeah.." you babble as his hips make your body jolt up and down, your brows twitching when his hands curl and twist your bouncing breasts, not leaving you a time to think properly and it's almost crazy on how good he felt inside of you tonight, rubbing the head of his girth into your walls and noticing every time you cling down harder.

more moans and chains of nonsense passing your lips, moaning, sighing, telling him that, yes, it's obviously too much too handle but you didn't want him to stop because you were so very close, your hands tensing on his scarlet hair and you notice every time you tug on it he would groan out harder, fucks you deeper, greater when you get rougher on his burning scalp.

"you know what to say if it's too much."

you can discern his comforting carefulness, pulling him down to sloppily make out with him when he picks up the tempo on his hips, "fuck— you’re killing me." he moans into your mouth, his large hands pinning you down the bed and grunting viciously each time at the tight seal you had around his girth.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #blade x reader #blade smut #luka x reader #luka smut #honkai star rail luka x reader #hsr luka x reader #hsr luka smut #hsr blade smut #hsr blade x reader

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elsweetheart · 11 months

Text

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

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

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

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

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Where?”

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

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

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

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

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

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

“Uber.”

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

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

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

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a brat.”

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

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

“Then what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So big.” You mewl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

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

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scruus · 10 months

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★̶̲ [ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ]

✎ sub afab howl + dom amab reader notes: masturbation, dirty thoughts, self degradation, sprinkle of exhibitionism, howl being a slut; nobody ask me how and where this came from just no. Also tell me if u guys want a part 2.

Howl softly moans in the quiet lavender smelling air surrounding him. Filthy sounds of squelching and groaning were accompanying his lonely self in the room.

It wasn’t a good idea you know. Legs wide apart, slick running down his glistening hole and his clit all puffy. This was actually very bad. You could come in at any moment right now.

What if you were with a group of friends? like you were sometimes when you get drunk at your office parties. They could walk in on to their friend’s boyfriend fingering himself on the living room couch. Spread open like some hungry whore and offering up a view to everyone?

You would maybe then fuck him in front of everyone? Bounce him on your thick cock and show everyone how his sweet little cunt swallows you all up. Letting everyone see how you breed his hole until his tummy bulges and the cum gushes out of his abused hole and he just moans like a needy bitch, pleading for more.

Or you could come home alone? All tired, angry, stressed. So frustrated with your work and deadlines. Maybe seeing him like this would make you take your anger out on him. Fuck him so hard he loses his voice next day and he gets reduced to a moaning slut.

You wont even be gentle to him. Treating him like a ragdoll and just tearing him open without any prep. Your tip probing his cervix and his entire body spasming as he cums again and again and again. In so deep, your balls slap against his pussy lips. Roughing him up until he can’t even think. Break him apart.

“ffuck….”, howl softly whimpers. He rarely swears unless it’s something that riles him up. And these thoughts are definitely doing that. So pathetic, he mocks himself.

All these scenario running through his pretty little mind as he plunges his fingers deep. In and out trying to hit that spot inside which you always find in less than a second. Obviously you did! After all you had explored each nook and cranny of his beautiful body.

His slender waist and that soft beautiful stomach which you always pepper down with kisses. His pink perky nipples which you love to suck on and bite with your teeth. His cute soft moans that you adore when you kiss along his jaw and down his neck. And his hair? Oh his hair…. Soft and so luscious. You love smelling it every morning when he wakes up cuddled in your arms.

And you also love to pull on it when you raw dog him from behind. Watching that ass jiggle up and down and your cum covered cock just sliding inside of him so easily. His glassy eyes staring up at you with hearts as he babbles “kiss me” nonsensically. He remembered how hard he came that night. Just squirting so much that a huge patch of the bed was wet.

His pussy takes you in so well, it has to, he doesn’t care if he has to force it in. He loves having your cock deep inside his warm walls. Just ramming into him like a fucking machine and making him feel all dizzy and weak.

“oh oh fuck oh a-am close”, howl’s eyes flutter shut as his fingers pick up pace and the coil in his stomach tightens. His toes curl and his hand moves down to clench at the sofa. Shit shit shit, he will cum but the thought saddens him that it will be an orgasm without your dick inside him.

Rambling your name, his moans get desperate. Oh god he was so close. He wants your hands on you. Wants to feel the burn of his pretty cunt trying to take in your shaft. Even though he has fucked you so many times, his pussy still can’t acknowledge the fact that you are so fucking huge and he loves that.

I guess being a wizard comes with its perks.

And just before he can scream your name and rush to a climax. The door of his apartment clicks open and enters a tired yet happy figure he was yearning to see all day.

“Honey you won’t believe what happ-“, you stop dead in your tracks. Eyes wide open as you stare at your lover seated on the gray couch of your living room. The TV’s light shining on him but the sound muted.

His fingers were buried between his fleshy folds and his tender, plushy thighs had his fluids running down. “H-howl…..don’t tell me you were masturbating in the living room?”, you croak, astonished at just how fucking horny your boyfriend is.

Howl chuckles out a giggle, eyes hooded with lust as a wet tongue swipes across his bottom lip. He takes out his fingers from his hole and spreads his pussy lips apart. Showing off his cute cunt and the gaping hole he wished you would just fill in right now.

“I was waiting for you”, he grins before beckoning you with his clean set of fingers. “Wanna fuck this whorish cunt up? Huh Daddy?”

Part 2?

#.rizzler #howl jenkins pendragon #howl pendragon #howl #howl smut #howl’s moving castle #sub howl #dom reader #howl pendragon smut

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frenchkisstheabyss · 11 months

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♡ 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 "ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤" ♡

♡ Mature Content! Minors DNI! Warnings below the break ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!ateez x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: A nice, calm, wholesome movie night with your boyfriends except I lied and nothing but absolute filth happens.

♡ Genre: smut with a sprinkle, a smidge, a barely visible flake of plot

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: (issa lot happening so pls lmk if I miss anything) masturbation (f), use of toys (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), anal penetration & eating (f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know not to do that irl!), creampies, edging, double vaginal penetration, things get rough, scratching, gagging, pet names (good girl, bad girl, slut, le usual)

♡ A/N: I wrote this with the intention of writing this soft, romantic piece but my mind got lost in the gutter and built a home there so here we are. Thanks to @anyamaris for supporting me in my nonsense as she always does.

Even with the air conditioner on, a wave of heat washes over you. Two fingers---your fingers---press firmly against your clit. You know your body better than anyone in this room. Every flick of your wrist makes your walls clench around the vibrator Hongjoong’s fucking you with. The ultra-soft silicone curves to rest its flat tip directly on your g spot. He keeps it at medium speed, the low hum of the toy a hypnotizing instrumental to the weakened moans leaving your lips. “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, delicately kissing your thigh. And you are.

Lying in the middle of your living room floor on a pile of the fluffiest pillows, you’re the prettiest thing any of them have ever seen. The plan had been to watch a movie. Horror---comedy---who cares? How could they watch anything but you? Legs spread wide. Pussy weeping, begging you to keep going just like that. Your panties, moist beyond measure, are looped around your ankle. The tight plaid mini skirt you wear is pushed up, not denying them a bit of your plush belly. Your nipples are two, tightly beaded indentations in your black crop top. They brush against the cotton each time your chest rises, turning you on even more.

It’s getting harder to play with your clit. Your muscles are tensing like a rubber band stretched near its breaking point. Your wrists are going limp. Your legs are shaking, causing your thighs to jiggle so deliciously that Hongjoong can’t resist nibbling at them. What he loves, what gets him off the most, is simply to watch you make a mess of yourself. “Mmm, Joongie. I’m gonna cum---” you gasp, arching against the pillows. Hongjoong’s laugh is nearly undetectable but you hear it, oozing lust. He’s happy with himself and with you. Pulling the soaked vibrator from your core, he pushes three fingers into you.

“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my fingers.” Hongjoong moves your hand away from your clit, wrapping his lips around it in a small O shape. Your arms fall above your head, your head turning to catch Yunho staring at you from the couch. Yunho looks spaced out. It’s as if his mind is off somewhere far away but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His mind is on you and no one else. It's fixated on the way your eyelids flutter when Hongjoong suckles at your clit. It’s committing to memory that sweet little smile you shoot him right before you lose control of your body.

Hongjoong’s been edging you for an hour all for this moment when he can finger you hard and fast, tonguing your clit as pleasure rips through your body. You’re grabbing at nothing---at anything---to ground yourself but it’s no use. “Hongjoong. Fuck” you whine, struggling to find your breath, “I can’t. Too much. Too---fuck.” Wooyoung rises from his spot on the recliner to kneel above your head. “Let me help” he coos, kissing you on the forehead. His fragrant sable locks dance around your cheeks like curtains, shutting out the rest of the world.

Smooth hands massage their way up your arms, loosening your muscles as they tighten. Fingers press into your shoulders---tickle your collarbone---traverse the arches of your breasts to circle your nipples. Woo slips your shirt up, laying his hands flat on your breasts. He kneads them, pinching your nipples in his palms. “Woo---” you moan, “Joongie---ah.” You mindlessly writhe beneath them. Hongjoong’s knuckles are grinding against your slit. His fingers---they’re so deep---spreading you open even wider.

Woo smiles down at you and there’s something so genuine about it because it is. “He’s right---” he says, “You’re so beautiful.” Woo drags his tongue across your lips just as Hongjoong’s tongue swirls between your pussy lips. There’s an audible squelching sound when his fingers pop out of you, the suction of your walls holding onto him for dear life too relentless to let him go quietly. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, sucking at his fingers, and admires the way you’re still clenching for him. He’d edge you more---keep you like this all night---but he knows he has to share.

With one last kiss which he plants on your lower belly, he leaves you in Woo’s capable hands. Woo reaches over you to run a finger across your slit and you giggle at how much it tickles. When he leans forward you get a clear view of how hard he is and catch yourself salivating. You bring a hand up to rub against his bulge. A groan emerges from somewhere deep within him, “Bad girl.” Still a tad loopy from your orgasm, you fumble your way up onto your knees. “But you love it, don’t you?” you tease, your hand reaching down to rub against him again.

Woo nibbles at his bottom lip, pulling you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue strand behind his ear, “Up.” One word spoken in the singsong voice of an angel such as yourself has him up on his feet without question. Just as you reach for Woo’s zipper, strong arms grab you from behind, locking you in their embrace. “Choi San!” you gasp, admiring that dimpled grin of his, “I’m kinda trying to focus here---” San kisses down your neck, dipping one hand between your thighs.

His other hand cradles your chin, fingers pinching into your cheeks, and turns your head back towards Woo where a throbbing cock, arousal moistening the tip, waits for you. “Then focus---” San says, lightly squeezing your cheeks. You let your tongue fall free, resting it on the underside of Woo’s cock. Rolling it around his sensitive tip, you collect the warm salty liquid on your tongue. San lets go of your cheeks, giving you the room to bring your hand up and grip Woo’s base. You glance up at him and he’s already fixed on you. They stay that way as your fingertips trace the veins traveling up his shaft, stroking back to his base and starting all over again.

San raises your ass enough to slip his cock between your thighs. Somehow he’s even harder than Woo and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You wanna fuck me, Sannie?” “Hmm, is that how we ask?” he growls into your neck, grinding against you. Poking your ass out, you lay your head back onto his shoulder, “I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Sannie. Please.” San grips you by the hips, sinking into you with zero patience. A vibrator has nothing on San’s cock. Woo tangles his fingers in your hair, sliding his thickness between your lips.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you suck your cheeks in---fan them out---mimicking the exact thing your pussy’s doing to San’s cock. It’s a flawlessly choreographed dance between the three of you. San bucking his hips, feeding you every inch. You rolling back against him, taking him like a--- “Pretty little slut---” San’s panting, the slobber dripping down your chin from sucking Woo off making you look like exactly that. Woo holding your head steady while you pump his glistening length, your hand and mouth working together to put his stomach in knots.

With Woo stuffing your cheeks, your screams are muffled when San picks up his pace. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he says, slapping you on the ass. “Mmpphh” is all you can manage, Woo’s cock hitting the back of your throat. Woo and San bounce you back and forth, whispering praises that have you back on the edge in no time. Your hips stutter, cluing San in that you’re close, and his pace becomes unforgiving. Woo scoops up one of your breasts, pinching your nipples, feeling their weight in his hand. “Don’t stop---shit---y/n. So good. Don’t---” Woo twitches between your lips, pumping his seed directly down your throat.

Never one to be wasteful you drink him down, massaging his balls with your free hand. “Fuck---pussy’s so good y/n---gonna cum” San hisses and you’re cumming again. He cums with you, ropes of white painting your insides from the other end. Woo leans forward, kissing your puffy lips, “I’ll get you some water.” “And a popsicle please.” Woo and San look at each other---back at you---at each other---back at you. San straightens out your skirt, “What for?” Your gaze dances over to Seonghwa and the two of you immediately begin to blush. “We---uh---” Seonghwa stutters, “Don’t worry about it.”

Yeosang politely moves Woo and San away from you. “Excuse me. Sorry” he apologizes, moving between them to sweep you up into his arms, “We’ll get the water.” It’s not that you don’t know Yeosang can pick you up but every time he does you melt. Yeosang carries you toward the kitchen and Seonghwa’s right behind him. “And the uh---yeah.” Jongho hops up to follow them, pushing through San and Woo with zero of the politeness Yeosang offered. “Thanks though” he grins, patting Woo on the shoulder, “But not really.”

“Oh my---that’s---that” you gasp, pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoy the sensation. Seonghwa bending you over your dresser and swirling a popsicle in your asshole wasn’t on your 2023 bingo board but he has you wondering why it never was. The chill of the popsicle is calming in a way. You were overheating for a bit there but now? You feel tingly all over. With the popsicle melted and your thighs coated in drips of sticky, strawberry syrup, Seonghwa goes to work licking it off of you. His long tongue trails up your left thigh---down your right thigh. It comes back up to your ass, nibbling at the plush cheeks and making you squeal. He stays there for a second kissing them, massaging them, tickling them with the tip of his tongue.

“Hwa---mmph” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he tongues your candy-coated asshole. Imagine having an itch. Not just any itch. One of those itches that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. One of those itches that refuse to be ignored. But you can’t reach it. No matter how hard you try, your arms just aren’t reaching until---oh god---you finally do. You scratch it and it’s so good that your legs could give out. Nothing, not a single thing, compares to how uniquely amazing that feels. That’s what it feels like to have Seonghwa making figure eights in your ass like his tongue's a professional figure skater.

While you’re bent over seeing stars, he maintains a shaky hold on his cock. Each stroke is slow and deliberate, in sync with yours. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbles, fully prepared to smother himself if it means tasting as much of you as possible. You hear a moan you’ve heard a dozen times before. Seonghwa tries to suppress them when he cums even though you wish he wouldn’t. Usually, he hates being messy but his cum has already glazed over his hand and the afterglow is heaven. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, falling across the bed. Spinning around you come face to face with Jongho. “Hey ya cutie” you beam, poking his cheeks.

Sometimes people say that he’s scary, mean even, but when you look at him all you see is your cuddly bear. You drape your arms over his shoulders for support, “Your turn?” Jongho effortlessly lifts you onto the dresser, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it. And he has. “My turn.” He presses the head of his cock against your clit and there they are again. The hot flashes. That thin layer of perspiration on your skin. Jongho grabs your arms, pinning them behind you, and drives into you. “You’re still so wet.” “Not still” you whisper, “This is just for you.” Jongho thrusts into you and you’re full again, his cock much thicker than you remember.

Your exhausted muscles can hardly hold up to being fucked this hard but you don’t have to worry about that. In his arms, you don’t have to worry about anything besides feeling good. He could keep you steady all night if Yeosang weren’t snatching you away, tossing you on the bed. “Yeosang!” you shout, sliding back on the bed, “You can’t just throw people around like that!” Yeosang climbs on top of you, pushing your shirt up, “I can’t?” He brushes a thumb across one of your nipples, lapping at the other as his fingers massage your breast. “You can---shit---do it again” you surrender between shallow breaths.

Yeosang slips into you, his cock pulsing in time with each rise of his hips. His defined arms slip beneath your body, hands locking just behind your back. When he flips you over on top of him, it’s like your whole world’s been turned on its side. He bounces you up and down in his lap, the tremors traveling far behind your core. Just as he picks up a rhythm Jongho tears you away from him, propping you up against the wall. You’d make some smartass comment about Jongho not being good at sharing. If only there were time enough for that.

His arms are already tucked behind your knees, supporting your weight as he fucks you against the wall. “You’re such an addictive little slut, you know that?” he says, and your heart flutters. You just love when he sweet-talks you. The angle he has you at is perfect for stimulating your g spot. He’s bumping right up against it and you’re clamped down around him, as addicted to him as he is to you. “Can I borrow this?” Yeosang asks, peeling you away from Jongho and tossing you back onto the bed.

This time you’re on your knees. All fours is simply out of the question with how completely destroyed you are. “Are you just gonna toss me around all night?” you whine, burying your face in the blankets. Seonghwa lays his head beside yours, nuzzling up to you. “Of course not” he assures you, his voice warm and comforting, “I won’t throw you around when I have you. A light roll maybe---”

“Pirates! Cowboys! Biker gangs!” you mumble incoherently, jolting awake. Shaking off those incredibly strange dreams, you realize that you’re still in bed. Judging from how dark it is in your room, it’s well past midnight. You must’ve fallen asleep after what your aching muscles are telling you was a wrestling match with a bear. A barely awake Yunho tightens his arm around you from behind, “Cowboys? I’ll do anything for you but I am not putting on a cowboy costume.” “I will,” Mingi yawns, cuddling up closer to you from the other side, “I get nice boots. Probably a cool jacket. Ooh, some guns---”

“There are no guns!” you interrupt, “When did you two even get in here?” Yunho shrugs, “A few hours ago. You never came downstairs and we missed you.” The “we” he’s referring to is obvious when you notice how hard he is against your back. “You fell asleep on us” Mingi pouts, a hand running up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You drape a leg around his waist, smooching him on the nose, “Don’t do that.” “Don’t do what?” Mingi pouts even more, knowing how soft you go for him when he does this. “That! You guys are both being so---” “So?” Yunho asks, his long fingers reaching between your legs to stroke your pussy.

You shiver at the contact. Having Yunho behind you, his cock pressing into the small of your back, his fingers teasing you, makes your heart race. Mingi spreads your thighs, giving Yunho more than enough room to curl his fingers into you. “Finish what you were saying.” “I---uh---” “Uh---uh” Mingi mocks, petting your cheek. You move to playfully slap him but he grabs you by the wrist, kissing you before you can even consider trying anything else. Yunho eases a third finger into your core, “You like it when I play with your little cunt, don’t you?” “Mm-hmm” you hum, lidded eyes glossing over.

Yunho stays focused on tapping your sweet spot while Mingi hypnotizes you with his lips. Mingi has you so drugged, so completely entranced, that you don’t even notice when one of Yunho’s fingers is replaced with his. It’s not until there are four of them inside of you, two of Mingi’s and two of Yunho’s that you feel the difference. Feel the intensity of the stretch. “I think she likes it” Mingi grins, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Yunho follows suit, slipping a thumb into your ass. “Fuck---yes---Yunie---Mingi---mmm!” you cry out, so overstimulated that your eyes begin to water.

They grind into you harder, forcing out screams louder than any you’ve made tonight. “Please---inside of me---wanna feel you. Both of you” you whine, so lost in how badly you want them that you don’t realize what you’re asking. Mingi slides his hand out, smearing your juices between your folds, “Aah, she’s adventurous tonight. You sure you can handle that?” “I-I can. Ah, shit. I need it.” Yunho spreads his fingers in a V, rolling them around inside of you, stretching you from every angle. Mingi brings the head of his cock to splash in the juices leaking from your needy core and Yunho pulls out of you, focusing instead on freeing himself from his pants.

For a fleeting moment, it occurs to you how fucking insane you are. Mingi and Yunho at the same time? It’s not only the thickness, it’s the length. You wonder if you have a death wish. Mingi guides himself into you, only the first inch, sending shockwaves through your system. If this is how you die, you figure, at least you’ll die happy. Yunho spits into his palm, moistening his length before he brings it to meet your already occupied slit. Mingi slides in another inch or two, keeping his cock flush against the roof of your walls. Yunho raises himself into you, taking his time to watch for any signs that you’re uncomfortable, “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” You make a little squeak to acknowledge how nice it feels to be protected, even when he’s in the process of tearing you in half.

He begins to slide up into you, pausing to let Mingi push in a little more, then taking his turn again. It’s a toe-curling, lip-biting back and forth to get them both inside of you. Once they are, you're falling apart, screaming, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he gathers the material and shoves it in your mouth. “We don’t want them to think we’re killing you.” You’re so full, stretched beyond your limit, that only one of them can fuck into you at once. There’s no room for anything---or anyone---else. You belong to them. “You’re always worth waiting for but shit” Mingi grunts, his length throbbing, as much as it can given the space.

There’s moisture on your cheeks. You’re crying. Not from pain. No. That initial sting gave way to pleasure once they were both finally inside of you. You’re crying, drenched in your own tears, because parts of you are shifting that you didn’t even know could. Every stroke has your ears ringing, your heart in your stomach. You feel heavy and weightless all at once. The darkness of the room swallows you while somehow managing to be blindingly bright. There’s an explosion somewhere inside, releasing the building pressure. You’re at your peak again, legs kicking like you’re dangling high up. It hits you hard. So hard that you’re not breathing. Breathe, girl, breathe!

Just as you catch your breath and think that you’re maybe---maybe---coming down, Yunho's filling you up like a donut. Mingi pulls out, tapping his head against your clit as warm cum sprays against you. Correction: Filling you up like a glazed donut. The three of you collapse, unable to do much else besides make a series of broken noises. “Hmph mmm mm hmph,” you say? Scream? Mumble? Mingi throws his arm across his chest, understanding your incoherent huffs, and takes the shirt out of your mouth. You pat him lovingly on the head, “Thanks.”

Readjusting yourself on the toilet, you rub the partially melted popsicle between your legs. This is nowhere near sexual in nature. You’re just in desperate need of relief from how sore you are after the day’s events. “Aah, yup, that’s the spot” you sigh, “Seonghwa really was onto something.” “Was I?” Seonghwa asks, rubbing his eyes. You jump a bit, startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Seonghwa stretches, dragging his feet into the bathroom.

As adorable as he is in his pajamas, his hair a complete mess, seeing him right now isn’t ideal. He shakes off the sleep, taking his time to process what’s going on. “Is that a---” “Ssh, if you tell anyone---” Seonghwa’s cheeks turn rosy, a smile spreading across his face. He takes you by the hand, bringing you to your feet, “Come on.” “Hwa, hold on, do you think? I wasn’t--no. No!” You reach back to drop the popsicle in the sink but Hwa pulls you along. “Hold onto that.”

#ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 #ateez oneshot #hongjoong x y/n #mingi x y/n #jongho x y/n #yeosang x y/n #yunho x y/n #seonghwa x y/n #san x y/n #wooyoung x y/n #chubby reader

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leclerc-s · 4 months

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the honest series - formula one

─── ❝ i wish you could be honest with me ❞ ───

masterpost

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

THE PRELUDE

an honest timeline

meet the leading ladies

THE ALBUMS

if this was a movie - m.verstappen - starts in early 2015

enchanted - d.ricciardo - starts in late 2015

i wanna be yours - c.leclerc - starts in 2018

te quiero besar - c.sainz - starts in early 2019

bad idea right? - p.gasly - starts in late 2019

call it what you want - l.norris - starts in early 2021

different - a.leclerc - starts in late 2021

say yes to heaven - m.schumacher - starts in late 2021

la curiosidad - o.piastri - starts in late 2022

how you get the girl - l.sargeant - starts in early 2023

por el contrario - o'ward - starts in early 2023

THE EPS

he’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by max verstappen (takes place from 2015-2022)

i want your midnights

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by daniel ricciardo (takes place from 2016-2022)

met you at the right time, this is what it feels like

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by lando norris (takes place from 2021-2023)

THE BONUS TRACKS

seven

mae and daphne write a song together for max featuring charles leclerc (takes place september 2019)

the unhinged younger brother

the jones sisters have a little brother, he's more unhinged than anyone could imagine. (takes place from 2019-2023)

(daphne's version)

daphne finally gets to own her work (takes place from 2021-2023)

wait, there’s another one of you?

turns out older brothers, feelings, and spilling secrets, is not a healthy mix. who would've thought?! (takes place in early 2022)

nonsense

mae reveals the inspiration behind her most unhinged song ever while also traumatizing a few drivers (takes place may 2022)

a christmas nonsense

nonsense gets a merry sequel while mae and max continue to traumatize their friends and families (takes place november 2022)

the daphlonso scandal

the entire internet is convinced daphne is dating a driver but they’ve got the wrong one or where loose-lipped lando strikes (takes place march 2023)

who's daniel ricciardo anyways?

a star nfl player tries giving his number to daphne, chaos ensues between the f1 girls and the nfl fandom, several people lose their minds, mostly isabella and daniel. (takes place july 2023)

the trophy boyfriends

daphne and mae are everything while daniel and max are just ken (takes place september 2023)

karma is the guy on the track

daphne and daniel break the internet, again. (takes place november 2023)

most likely to...las vegas edition

grill the grid has it out for pierre and rowan (takes place november 2023)

what happens in vegas never stays in vegas

someone gets married in vegas…again (takes place november 2023)

fruitcake

the release of mae's christmas ep has a few people worried. (takes place from november 2023 - december 2023)

a paddock family christmas

christmas, paddock family style (takes place december 2023)

divorcegate 2024

alternatively: isabella and rhys loses their minds over lewis' unexpected move to ferrari. (takes place february 2024)

let him be a trophy husband!

the paddock family takes on the 66th annual grammys and a surprise album announcement by daphne (takes place february 2024)

the end of an era

isabella choses chaos. (takes place february 2024)

she's married you idiots!

relationship rumors strike again! only this time mae and max seem to be at the center of it all. (takes place february 2024)

struggling to survive netflix

the paddock family takes on a new season of drive to survive. (takes place february 2024)

thirsting on the main?

isabella thirsting over her boyfriend with a sprinkle of brocedes (takes place march 2024)

let the games begin

the start of the 2024 formula 1 season, occurs in the usual paddock family chaos (takes place march 2024)

so american

the internet learns just how much zoya torres loves logan sargeant. spoiler, it's more than they could imagine. (takes place march 2024)

of ice cream shops and puppies

think the barbie of formula 1, charles leclerc, starting his new business venture while suffering from dog-napping at the hands of his 'own children' (takes place april 2024)

espresso with a shot of depresso

the impending release of espresso and the tortured poets department has people cracking jokes (takes place april 2024)

UP NEXT!

the tortured poets department

the release of the tortured poets department by daphne jones-ricciardo.

you, me, and your friend steve (the 1k special)

the paddock family couples and their third wheels as seen through the fans

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thingsnia · 3 months

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𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 | 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 | 𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 | 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

Imagine being John Price's trophy wife, happy to have joined another random course just to pass the time, John thinks it's funny how you always have some strange news to tell him - botany course, gardening course, cooking course and even the current massage course. John let you spend a little on the weekly money he sends you, he has a solid account, and even though you know the passwords, he likes to have an account that you can spend on your nonsense.

You've been so good to him - the least he can give you is a bank account full for you to spend on all your treats, you've been so good to him, always kind, always kind, always laughing when he comes home, always cooking the delicious things you always do for him, wearing that damn pink apron that makes you act like a sexy bunny.

He knows that you decorated one of the rooms in the mansion with massage devices, he thinks it's funny when the bill arrived, as it arrived, some sauna installers appeared in the battalion, and most of the soldiers already knew it was some prank on your part. Soap was even going to invite himself to go there, Ghost made fun of him asking what new prank you could have done. John signed with a damn smile on his face because he couldn't wait to get home and see his skills.

And now it comes to exactly how he looks now, with a huge erection under the white towel wrapped around his hips — all the body hair exposed, the smell of the massage oil, the scented and scented candles, damn, you looked so pretty sitting on top. of him as he crushed his hands around his toned breasts, he was so hard, he just wanted to fuck you, you looked so beautiful, so proud showing off all the massage tricks.

Fuck, he'd never felt so relaxed and so hard. And even though he wanted to be taken care of by you, he couldn't stand it, attacking your body, laying you down on the massage mark, opening the tiny clothes you were wearing - John couldn't help but tear all the clothes off, even while you fought, fought with he laughed and pouted. "You promised I could massage you! Daddy!" He knows he broke his promise, he should have known he wouldn't be able to stand seeing you on his lap, massaging his hair-covered chest, feeling your nails, your soft hands wrapped around his cup.

John never believed that at his age he could fuck you even harder, even with his back pain, damn, he fucks you like he's going to ravish you. Sprinkling the massage oil on your little body, he can feel your skin smooth and soft, your eyes shining as you moan and laugh, seeing your poor pussy widen to take all of his dick — those sounds you make when he sinks in, those little eyes rolling, how you scratch his back and scream.

John is absolutely sure that he can keep spoiling you with random treats, buying or redecorating a new room, as long as in the end, he can crush your little body against his — feeling his body hair making allergies on your skin, crushing your skin. you little body, he knows he doesn't deserve you, a sweet, gentle, tight wife.

ask are open, feel free to send something 💓🫶🏻

But he can give you the heavens and the damn stars if you want something, because he does everything to see you laughing, to see you crinkle his little eyes. Damn, he loves crushing your little pussy around him, widening your little hole, and dumping cum so deep inside you, breeding you, filling you, he loves you, he loves every inch of his little girl, his little angel.

#﹟⠀notion's nia⠀୧ #nia ; things ☆#ⓘ 🧷 nia : smut #🚬 john price by nia ☆#captain john price #john price x reader #john price smut #john price #captain john price smut #john prine #john price cod #cod #call of duty #cod john price

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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The Prince & The Pauper Prefect

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: 'Dear Ramshackle Prefect, you are cordially invited to tour the Royal Sword Academy at your leisure. We hope our libraries may have something of use to aid in your journey home. And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’ Clearly, nothing about this could go wrong at all.

A/N: A commission for the very lovely @thefiasco-onyourblock. I'm having so much fun with all y'alls ideas, and this is one of the few that was asked to be public, so I'm happy you all get to see it! It was a lot of fun to dive back into this himbo~

You’d just stumbled your way back onto Ramshackle’s sagging porch after your second third fourth foray into this wonderful new world of Near-Death Experiences when the letter arrived. It popped into existence in a pleasant burst of bubbles and sparks—a scroll of soft, cream, paper stamped with a shimmering wax seal that looked like it could have been melted down out of literal gold. You waved a hand under it, over it, all around the thing in grand loop-de-loop. The letter just kept hovering in place, occasionally spitting out another bout of multicolored sparkles.

“Hello?” you tried, cautious, and the thing crinkled at the corners. Like it was trying to wave back at you.

You glared up at the grey sky for a moment, daring whatever higher power existed in this stupid world to try fucking with you yet again, before reaching out to grab the ridiculous, magic, note.

It unrolled at your touch, like a cat stretching when you scratched along its spine. And instead of some horrible prank or wayward contract, you were greeted with an opportunity.

“POACHERS!” Crowley howled.

You sighed and rested your chin in your palm. “So can I go?”

“INTERLOPERS!” he forged onwards, waving the letter back and forth like a parent raging over a bad report card. “Who do they think they are?! Trying to swipe my most precious intern—student! My most precious and beloved of students!—out from under my nose?! As if I wouldn’t be able to see through something so—so—ACK!”

“I mean,” you grumbled miserably under your breath, “it is a pretty long nose. Could hide a lot under there.”

He turned on you with a gasp, like you’d just insulted his mother. Or… whatever the Headmaster’s no doubt vaguely evil and eldritch equivalent would be.

“It’s a mask! A mask!”

He crumpled the letter petulantly between his clawed fingers and went to hurl it to the ground, but the paper smoothed itself out with another one of those magical ‘pops!’ and floated up on an artificial breeze to land neatly in your lap. Crowley sneered at the thing like he was planning to light it on fire, and honestly, with how strange and ethereal this little letter was, you sort of wanted to see him try.

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable opportunity,” Professor Trein shrugged, unbothered by his superior’s usual nonsense.

“It’s not as if the Royal Sword Academy is known for their treachery,” Professor Crewel added, sounding a bit like the acknowledgement had to be yanked out of his mouth with a pair of pliers. He glanced your way for a moment with those narrowed, steely, eyes of his before turning that glare back on the old crow. “And in comparison, I don’t think any of us can truthfully claim that Night Raven has provided a particularly safe learning environment for the Prefect.”

Crowley sniffed, indignant. “A sprinkling of danger is all part of the educational experience!”

Trein sighed and Crewel pinched at his brow like he was fighting the start of a migraine.

“They’re just offering to let me look through their library archives for more information on how I could find a way home,” you tried, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Which would mean less work for you, you know.”

For a moment you could see the calculations whirling behind those glowing, yellow, eyes—the promise of entirely unearned vacation time and accolades for tasks he’d had absolutely bupkis to do with. But then the sharp line of his mouth hardened in determination and he turned away from you with a huff.

“We’ll discuss this betrayal of yours later—when my poor, old, heart has had some time to stitch itself back together!” he harumphed and you sighed miserably. Then he snapped his fingers with a little ‘ah!’ and turned on you with a perfectly sunny smile. “And of course there’s the VDC to plan for! Do get on that, my favorite, little, busy bee!”

Afterwards you stood in the little alcove outside of Crowley’s office, the golden letter clutched tightly in your fists. The soft edges of the scroll lifted to curl around your knuckles, like a gentle reassurance. Before you could work yourself up into getting too upset about the unfairness of it all, Professor Crewel placed a hand on your shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll drop you off Monday morning.”

You fought the tremble that was doing its best to turn your mouth into a wobbling mess, and turned to launch yourself into his furs with a crushing hug. The alchemist patted your back with a great deal of aggrieved grumbling, but he didn’t bother to push you away either, so he probably didn’t mind you creasing his coat as much as he said he did.

Your assurance that this was just a jaunt through the RSA’s library had been… mostly a fib. Or at least, deceptive in the same way that the sweeping, cursive, missive was also sort of sneaky. You’d dealt with enough genuine schemers at this point to recognize subtle promises woven into the words of the well-meaning.

‘And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’

You sighed and tucked the letter into your bag. It felt a bit wrong to be ducking away from your friends and your hovel of a home like a thief absconding in the night. But this was just… You were just looking. Spending a day away from the cloying, tarry, taste of pooling blot, and the endless runaround of all your little duties, and Crowley was not nearly the same as flipping your new friends the bird and fucking off into the sunset.

You repeated this to yourself ad nauseum as you pulled on your cleanest uniform, and then again throughout the entirety of the drive down the coast, and then more when Crewel waved you out of his car with a pointed look, leaving you at the RSA’s doorstep with a little shoo shoo gesture to get you moving.

Everything was so white. And not the gentle sort of lightness that came with nice things like fluffy sheep or foam off rolling ocean waves. It was sterile—so sharply bright in the morning light that it was nearly blue. The brick path beneath your feet was white, the guardrails lining the walkways were white, the walls of the looming castle, the impressive archways, the fluttering flags bearing the school’s regal coat of arms—all bone-bleached beneath the sun and shimmering like the architecture itself had literally been polished to a gleam. The only variation to be seen amidst the sea of monochromatic brilliance was the occasional pop of a cerulean spire—like some sort of awful party hat to top off the whole mess of it.

Say what you might about Night Raven’s gothic chic and whole ‘I mean, of course the cobwebs in the halls are Intentional’ aesthetic, but at least walking around the drab buildings there didn’t leave you feeling like someone had just set off a camera flash in your face. You felt like you were dirtying the roads by just existing near them. How did anything ever get done here without everyone having to constantly stop just to sweep up their footprints behind them?!

But such was the way of this dumb world apparently. Everything had to operate in extremes—nothing could just be normal. Real. It was all some fairytale recreation, varying only in if it fell hard on one side of the spectrum or the other.

You pulled out the letter with a sigh, and began roving over the contents yet again to see where exactly you were supposed to be headed. This whole fieldtrip turning into a miserable confirmation of your unintended loyalty to Night Raven or otherwise, at least you might be able to get some information out of these promised libraries.

You managed to cross a sweeping stone bridge, descend three separate flights of stairs, and follow nearly half a dozen signs with little, circled, stars on them before realizing you were probably only making things worse for yourself. You were still on one of those glistening, pearlescent, pathways, but now there were trees everywhere. It was a far cry from the twisting, black, forests smattered throughout Night Raven’s estate. Light filtered down pleasantly through the lush trees and the air was so nicely scented with flowers and pine that it was almost like someone had gone through with a bottle of Perfume de Forest and personally spritzed each and every plant. Which—ugh. Even the birds seemed to singing in tempo to some pre-orchestrated song. It was trippy.

But speaking of trippy—

You were so busy glaring suspiciously at a tree with a literal smiley face twisted into its bark that you didn’t notice the drop-off until it was too late. To be fair, it was still all very lovely—an overhang leading to a crystalline lake that bubbled gently under the roar of nearby waterfall. No jagged rocks at the bottom or anything. You probably wouldn’t even have to tumble all the way into the water, just into the little ditch about ten feet down. But of course, all that didn’t stop you from ‘eeping’ inelegantly in a panic as you stepped over the edge and started to fall.

And then you jerked back with a wheeze when something caught you around the collar of your uniform and tugged. You flailed wildly as you were hauled back up and into the air, and something behind you made a high-pitched, nervous, whinnying noise.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy! Easy! You’re going to send all three of us over, you big baby!”

The huffing, angry, noises just got worse and you were dropped unceremoniously back on the pathway you’d wandered off from just in time to see a pair of hooves come crashing down precariously close to where you’d been dumped. You scurried back in a hurry, because you’d survived too much nonsense at this point to get taken out from something as mundane as a kick to the head.

The horse eventually got its singular braincell working well enough to realize it had to back away from the ledge, and you were finally able to look upon your savior without being too worried about taking a hoof to the face.

He was clearly an RSA student, what with the garishly bleached uniform and impeccably put together everything. There was a crimson cloak tossed over one of his shoulders though, which did more to break the monotony of colorless brightness than any other architecture in the entire campus, so well done him you supposed. There was a sort of effortless attractiveness to everyone in this stupid world, but your new acquaintance in particular seemed to fall hard into that ‘windswept, accidental model’ sort of look, with loose brown hair falling in a neat fringe over his forehead, and wide, warm, hazel eyes. He looked a bit like the sort of person that a school might slather on all their recruitment posters to be like ‘see! We have jocks that know how to shower and brush their hair! Look how put together we are!’

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking down at you with a canted head—curious. “You don’t look a student here.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, making your way to your feet with a sore grumble. “I have an invitation. I’m just trying to find the Headmaster’s Office,” you said, holding out the letter like a hall pass.

“Oh!” He chirped, brightening. “I can show you the way,” He offered. “Not that I’m in trouble enough to know the way there by heart or anything, but I guess just enough that there isn’t too much of a chance that I’ll get the both of us lost,” he winked and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Normally this sort of overly familiar banter meant you were about to get dragged into all sorts of Shenanigans.

Before you could decide whether to take the chance or politely decline, his stupid, too big, horse reared its head back with a frustrated huff. Mister Red Cloak took the mini-tantrum in stride, despite the fact that the thing had nearly just clocked him right in the face with a head that looked as solid as a boulder.

“Oh, come now,” he sighed, patting the beast’s neck. “We can finish the course later. Don’t be a baby.”

The horse made some sort of unpleasant shrieking noise like some nightmare creature from just beyond the gates of Hell that had you flinching back to avoid being Murdered, but its rider simply rolled his eyes and tugged sharply at the reins.

“What do you think, huh? Just this once?” he asked, leaning forward over the withers to talk to the raging horse in its face. Like a lunatic. “For an extra bucket of oats? And maybe, just a few—” cue an absolutely horrendous eyebrow waggle, “carrots?”

And then the horse tossed its head back with a whinny that should absolutely not have sounded anything like a ‘hell yeah! Whatever you say, dude!’ before turning and prancing around you in tight, bouncy, circles. You scrunched in on yourself, because the thing was still probably a thousand pounds of muscle and flailing limbs. Even if it wasn’t actively huffing at you anymore, now it was just getting closer faster.

“You really don’t have to,” you tried. “Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way.”

“Nonsense!” he chirped, dropping down from the saddle to land before you in the grass with a heavy thud. He brushed at his trousers, as if he wasn’t expecting his hands to come back completely clean. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on him. “What sort of savior would I be if I let you get lost in the wild and wonderful woods of this grand institution?”

“I can see the castle,” you griped, pointing to the blue peaks over the trees.

“Last I checked, you can see it from the entrance too,” he smiled and gestured to the forested path around you, chuffing a bit like he was laughing under his breath. “Must’ve been quite a turnaround, to wind up here anyways.”

Instantly you felt your hackles rising and a familiar, prickly, heat work its way up into your cheeks.

“Thank you, for your concern,” you grit out and swiveled on your heel. “But I guess even I should be able to find my way eventually.”

The pleasantly amused expression on the brunette’s face instantly fell and he darted back in front of you with a grimace.

“Sorry—that was. Sorry. I guess I put my foot in my mouth,” he rushed out. A gloved hand came up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You snorted and glared off into the trees.

“Now you really have to let me show you the way,” he laughed, stilted and bordering on too polite. “For making an ass out of myself like that. It’s the least I can do.”

You glared at him sourly for a moment before sighing and glancing back at the looming Andalusian still prancing along the tree line. “Will… that be coming with us?”

“Helios?” he asked, like you had any concept of what a ‘Helios’ was supposed to be. Probably the horse. “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, waving you off. “He can find his way back to the stables on his own. Right, boy?”

The horse made another one of those high-pitched, blustery, noises and you forcefully reminded yourself that you had faced inky goop monsters that were personifications of your classmates’ literal demons, and also kidnapping plots involving another of said classmates diving into your brain to rewire it like you were his own personal puppet. And in comparison to all those trials, Sentient Animals should not be creepy.

“Fine,” you huffed. “It’s fine. Just—let’s just get going.”

“Right!” he beamed, instantly bouncing back to his earlier enthusiasm. “I’m Stefan, by the way.”

You offered your own name in return, if only to be polite, and he smiled like the fact that you’d managed to grit out those familiar syllables was a gift in and of itself and not just, you know, generic introduction protocol.

“You have a lovely name,” he chirped, falling into step at your side.

You snorted, still a bit too bitter and sore. “You don’t have to try so hard to be nice, you know. To make up for saying something you feel bad about, I mean. It’s fine.”

His blinked his wide, hazel, eyes at you in way that looked a bit like you’d managed to surprise him. His eyelashes were long and soft, and they brushed against his cheeks with each shutter. Never trust people with nice eyelashes, you thought a bit petulantly. You’d known you were right to be cautious.

“You think I’m just saying that because I feel guilty?” he asked, not sounding particularly incredulous or insulted so much as genuinely curious. He tilted his head at you and some of his fringe slipped in front of his eyes, softening the sharp lines of his face. “Do people normally do that?”

You didn’t quite frown at him, but it was a close thing. You could feel your brow pinch.

“…I guess,” you huffed after a long moment, turning to stare back at the path ahead.

“Huh,” he mused, thoughtful. “Well, I really did mean it. And it’s a lot better than my name by far. I mean, really, Stefan? A bit on the nose, don’t you think? ‘Crown?’ Come on. Couldn’t my parents have been anymore original?”

You glanced over at him, a bit lost. “What does that mean?”

“Stefan?” he repeated with another one of those eyelash-sweeping blinks. “It means ‘crown.’”

“No,” you sighed, long suffering. “As in, how is that unoriginal? It’s a nice name.”

“Well, it’s because I—” he trailed off, gaze lingering in open astonishment. After a long moment of gaping at you like he’d just been clobbered across the back of the head with a baseball bat, he finally cleared his throat and looked back off into the trees with a tight shrug. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything I guess. Don’t worry about it.” He seemed to chew on that train of thought for a moment or two longer before turning back to face you with a wide grin that was just on the right side of smug. “You think it’s a nice name?”

“Whatever,” you huffed, cheeks starting to heat with something other than bitter chagrin. “Just please get me out of this forest before I fall over another cliff.”

Headmaster Ambrose the 63rd (the sixty-third! What in the nepo-nonsense was that?!) looked like a wizard straight out of some homey after-school-special, with silver spectacles perched on his rounded nose and a soft, pointed, cap atop his head that flopped endearingly at the tip. He was an antithesis to Crowley in every sense of the word—flowing robes replacing tight vests and formal wear, faded white accents rather than sharp black, and not a single bit of Sparkling Flair to be seen. Like everything else, as nice as he seemed, it was such a stark jump into the opposite direction that it had your hackles raised in caution.

“Our libraries are some of the most extensive in the country,” he smiled, warm and fond. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle behind the rims of his glasses. “I hope you’ll be able to find something that may be of some help to your situation.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, fighting the insane storybook urge to do something like curtsy.

He waved you off with a gentle shake of the head. “None of that ‘sir’ nonsense. You’re a guest a here! I hope my students have been treating you well?”

Stefan rubbed at the back of his neck and shot his headmaster a sheepish smile that was entirely, unfairly, handsome.

“Doing my best, sir.”

“Good lad,” he hummed, something nearly mischievous sparking in those blue-grey eyes of his. But you were hesitant to label it anything of the sort now that you’d seen what real sneaky nonsense looked like. This was more like… Children’s Program Mischief. That kind that usually involved an adult thinking themselves very clever for being able to sneak some vegetables into an afternoon snack. He turned back on you with that shining smile. “Allow me to find you an escort for the afternoon, and then we can get off to the library.”

“I’d be happy to show them around!” Stefan piped in.

“Is that so,” Ambrose mused, that same little grin playing over his mouth. “I thought you were meant to be in Equestrian Studies at the moment, hmm?”

“Well, I mean,” he spluttered, before collecting his argument and squaring his shoulders with another one of those blindingly bright smiles, “how could I possibly have left someone in need to fend for themselves, sir? I would have brought shame down on this entire institution! Heroes are meant to be made not born, after all!” He boomed, like someone cheering a school’s motto at a sports game.

All of this sounded like the largest crock of self-aggrandizing bullshit you’d ever heard, and by the time you’d had a whole internal debate with yourself over the merits of NRC’s outright nastiness versus this… whatever it was supposed to be, Ambrose was gesturing between the pair of you and saying something that you probably ought to be being paying attention to.

“Thank you, sir!” Stefan grinned, and Ambrose waved him off in that same pleasant way he had you earlier.

“You’re in excellent hands, Prefect,” the Headmaster assured as you were rushed out the door by the guy who was clearly going to be your newest Problem. “Take care! And please let me know if there’s anything at all that we can help you with.”

And then you were back out in the hallway, with Stefan already steering you towards who knew what. The archives, you hoped. But knowing your luck, probably not.

“You must be hungry, right?” he asked, perfectly polite. “Why don’t I take you to the cafeteria before we head over to the library?”

“I’m fine,” you said, just as your stomach gurgled a very loud complaint. You patted at your traitor of an abdomen in a silent reprimand and sighed, “You can just show me the way. I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me the whole day.”

“Nonsense,” he beamed, intertwining his arm with yours and tugging you off down another hallway before you could protest. He was so tall, and it should have been hard to keep up with his longer stride, but it wasn’t. “I like spending time with you.”

“What?” you blinked, thrown. Because maybe you’d hit your head or something, but you were pretty sure the last half hour had consisted of very little other than you being grumpy and unpleasant.

He canted his head to look down at you and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“You’re nice to talk to,” he said. “Honest, I think. Would be the best way I could describe it. Genuine.” His hazel eyes went a bit distant, wistful. “There aren’t many people here like that. It’s different. Good different,” he promised, the corners of his smile tugging into something a bit teasing.

Your gaze tracked down to the brilliantly blue carpet beneath your feet and then around to the perfectly white walls. Other students filtered by in their starched uniforms and shiny, black, dress shoes—all impeccably groomed and all chattering idle nothings about the weather, about classes, exams. You could see the muddy imprints from your boots trailing along the floor and a few errant bits of grass fell in clumps from where they were still tangled up in your shoelaces. Something tight in you eased a bit at the mess, and you turned back to your companion with a sigh that was bordering far too close on ‘begrudgingly fond’ rather than the properly ‘put upon’ you were aiming for.

“If you say so.”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for the guy’s smile to get brighter, but somehow he managed. You squinted into the warmth of it with a strange, squirmy, feeling in your stomach that you didn’t think had much to do with being hungry.

“Come on then!” he beamed, tugging you along. “We don’t want to miss the Feast!”

“Feast?” you echoed, incredulous.

“With dancing silverware and everything,” he mock-whispered, like a secret just for the two of you.

“What the fuck,” you gaped, brain immediately latching onto the most ridiculous aspect of all of it. “How do you eat anything if it’s dancing?”

Stefan threw his head back with a roaring laugh that had you wanting to sink into your collar with your shoulders hunched up to your ears. But no one stopped to stare, or point, or snicker into their palms at his open enthusiasm. There were a few curious peepers, but once they seemed to identify the source of the noise, they all went back to wandering the halls in their perfectly pressed uniforms with nary a sly comment or sneer to be seen.

“See?” he beamed, tilting sideways to knock his shoulder against yours. “Honest. Now come on—we don’t want to miss out on all the grey stuff. It tastes way better than it sounds, promise.”

The pair of you entered the cafeteria right at the start of things, with dishes and forks just beginning to fly overhead in waves of strange, blinking, lights and motes of golden sparks. More than a few people waved at Stefan as he walked in, and he returned the greetings with polite, buoyant, ones of his own before herding you to an empty table off to the side.

“You don’t want to sit with your friends?” you asked, brow pinching in confusion.

“Hmm?” he mumbled around a spoonful of something already shoved in his mouth. There wasn’t any kind of plate in front of him, so he must have snatched it right out of the air. He swallowed and reached up to grab another. “Oh, no. That’s fine. Here! Try this!”

You leaned away from the spoon he held up to your lips with a huff and some obligatory complaints about how ‘you could feed yourself just fine, thank you very much.’ You plucked the bit of silverware from his fingers with a wary frown and very tactfully ignored that lingering, fluttering, warmth in your gut that you still hadn’t managed to completely snuff out.

“Is this… grey stuff?”

“Right on the money,” he winked, leaning forward to snatch up another flying fork. “My family’s not usually a fan of more ‘modern’ cuisine, so it’s always a treat to be able to try all the different foods at the Feasts here.”

You looked hesitantly at the goopy mess of monochromatic paste smeared across the spoon, and then back up at Stefan who was casually digging into his own floating mountain of toxic waste with an absolutely enraptured hum of satisfaction.

“Remind me to buy you a grilled cheese or something…” you muttered under your breath, before bravely swallowing the entire spoonful of sludge. And—huh. That was actually… pretty delicious. How weird.

You spent the rest of the luncheon event picking at random bits of floating foods as they danced by. Occasionally Stefan would lean forward to point out his favorites and give recommendations. He was surprisingly observant, despite whatever initial impressions his jock’s jawline and guileless grins may have led you to believe otherwise—taking easy note of the things you pushed aside and the ones you nibbled at more enthusiastically.

“Oh—you missed the desserts,” he lamented as the last remnants of a picked apart pie flew over your head.

“That’s fine,” you said, but he only shook his head and began to drag you off again with another of those brilliant grins.

And so began a weird sort of pseudo treasure hunt, where Stefan would take your hand and haul you off to some random corner of the castle with promises of whatever seemed to strike his fancy, or more accurately you supposed, whatever he seemed to think you might fancy.

“No one really uses this vending machine anymore, but somehow it always restocks and it has the best ice cream bars I’ve ever had. It’s wild! I’m sure you’ll love it!—“

“Oh, it is pretty cold down here, right? I didn’t even think about that. But… hmm… Here! I know the best place to grab a hot chocolate! It’s just over this way a bit—“

“These walls are kind of a drab view, yeah? Here! If we go down this way there’s a great little area to sit where you can see the whole bay—“

By the end of things, somehow you ended up back at the stables with that terror of a horse of his. And despite the runaround and the vaguely exhausting fact that Stefan’s social battery never seemed to wear itself out ever, it wasn’t… it wasn’t that bad, actually. Sometimes people would wave him down to talk, and he always introduced you and left the proverbial door open for you to join the conversation, but never asked you to participate, which was nice. You’d taken to just sort of slouching against his side in a food coma like a lizard on a rock as he answered whatever mundane questions all the other students asked of him. But otherwise, it was just the pair of you bopping around all over the campus.

Helios saw his master and whinnied merrily, and Stefan made an odd sort of chuffing noise in return that had you laughing into your palm.

“What?” He complained good-naturedly. “You’ve never barked at a dog before? It’s the same thing!”

“Of course it is,” you droned, lips twitching up at the corners.

The next destination was someplace on the coast that he was insisting was the absolute best place in the world to sit and think. Which if you wanted to do research, naturally you needed to get your head together about where to start, right? The only problem was that it was a solid hour hike away, but Stefan assured you that on horseback it was a much shorter journey.

You leaned forward on your tiptoes to get a look down the sprawling corridor of stalls, each larger and grander than the last. And each of their occupants following that exact same trend. There even looked like there was a horse with wings, which was—ah. Not helping the intimidation factor, to say the least.

“You can ride with me,” he offered. “If you’re uncomfortable, I mean. Sometimes it helps to feel like there’s someone more adept at the reins.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily. But then then you focused on the rest of that offer and you and the horse shared a Look. And wasn’t that a trippy thing to notice. You immediately forced yourself not to think about it.

“I don’t know if that’s fair to Helios,” you pointed out.

“Nonsense!” Stefan waved you off, and Helios pinned his ears indignantly. “He’s an Andalusian. They’re war horses, you know? Built to be as sturdy and strong as any horse can be.” He said the last part with a sickly-sweet uptick to his voice, and leaned up against the beast’s flank like they were sharing an inside joke. “They say Prince Phillip’s legendary steed was an Andalusian, and they rode into battle against a dragon together.”

Helios’s grey muzzle twitched prissily and eventually the horse lowered his great head to thump against Stefan’s side with a gusty ‘harumph’ that had the man stumbling forward with a pleasant laugh.

“There you are, you big baby. I knew you had it in you.”

After giving the horse a firm pat pat on his rump, Stefan turned and offered you a hand.

“It’s easier if I help you up first,” he explained.

“Isn’t there like… a ladder, or something?” You tried, and Stefan grinned sneakily before ducking behind you and hauling you up on Helios’s back all in one go. You absolutely, positively, did not squeak, or anything else ridiculous like that. It was a—a squawk! The most indignant and put upon of noises!

Stefan laughed and waved off whatever terrible sounds you were making with a bemused ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ that was the absolute least apologetic thing you’d ever heard. And then he was swinging himself up near effortlessly into the saddle behind you and looping an arm around your waist.

“Sometimes it’s better to just get it over with,” he explained in your ear, like your brain hadn’t just absolutely Blue Screened at the new weight along your hips. “Like ripping off a bandaid. I know it can all be sort of intimidating for people who aren’t used to being around horses.”

When you didn’t respond, because you were still trying to sort cognizant thoughts of the mess of ‘!!!’ that was hard at work blotting out the rest of your brain, you felt him start to shift a bit behind you. His hands flexed a bit tighter, as if the idea of you not being secure enough in the saddle was in anyway the problem here. After another moment of your continued silence, Stefan leaned forward carefully to hook his chin over your shoulder and spoke in that same carefully polite way he had when he’d worried he’d insulted you all those hours ago in the forest.

“If you’re still uncomfortable I can get you down if you want,” he offered, voice dipping low in something that sounded like hesitance. “I know I—I mean, you don’t have to go riding with me, if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be…” He cleared his throat, and you must have been going delirious because out of the corner of your eyes you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning pink. “I can… I can just take you to the library now, if you want,” he said. “I know I’ve already been pretty selfish with your time today.”

Helios shifted to stamp his feet and you twisted your fingers nervously into his mane. You really didn’t feel entirely great about being so high, on something so wild and big. And honestly, you had wasted a lot of time sightseeing with your impromptu tour guide. If you were being in anyway rational, you should demand Stefan dismount and take you to the library like he promised. But all the same… Today had been—all of it had been…

“Just don’t let me fall,” you huffed, fighting the urge to duck your chin down into your collar to hide the rising heat in your cheeks.

“Of course not!” Stefan beamed, straightening himself back up so suddenly that he nearly tipped the both of you from the saddle. You sent him a glare over your shoulder and he laughed, loud and boisterous. “Sorry, sorry. From here out starts the ‘of course not.’ That was just a test run.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, letting him maneuver your hands to better hold the reins alongside his.

Naturally, by the time you got halfway to the beach, Stefan remembered that the library closed early on Mondays, and that you’d well and truly missed your opportunity as you’d been off gallivanting with him and his ridiculousness all day.

But you know what? It was fine. You’d just come back tomorrow. And maybe the next day too.

#Twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #Prince Stefan x Reader #Twst OC x Reader #Commission #Heroes vs Villains #My Writing #The Prince & The Pauper Prefect #Dire Crowley #Divus Crewel #RSA #Ambrose

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