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neet-elite · 6 months

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Party For Two — (SDV) Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian/ Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 6,077 Warnings: Love confession, mutual masturbation, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering Synopsis: Sam promised to watch the episode himself, all bundled up under blankets in his own living room— Sebastian knows his best friend is probably practicing guitar instead, and Abigail will be too stubborn to give up gaming for a show she can catch up on when you ramble about it in the group chat later. Still, there’s comfort in the space they’ve provided him, his chest warm and gaze half-lidded as you press play, the shows intro sequence filling the remaining small space left between two bodies.

He’d like to fill that space with himself, eventually.

A/N: Crossposting this from my AO3. I wont be reposting every fic, but the most "recent" that seem to be popular. For my full catalogue then find my AO3 account in my pinned.

It’s the usual hang out night, held at your farmhouse this time round because you insisted on doing your fair share of hosting, only, Sebastian can’t help but feel that it’s anything but usual. What was meant to be a four person TV series watch has now turned into a party for two. Sam, currently sick with allergies and Abigail, busy trying (and most likely failing) to beat ‘Journey Of The Prairie King’— something that Sebastian is sure will take more than one night of attempts, she’s already been stuck on it for a week... And well, he can’t really fault Sam for not wanting to make anyone else sick. If anything, he’s thankful to be the only one to show up besides you. It’s not really that bad of a turn out, not when he’s been secretly wanting to spend more alone time with just you and him anyway. Because see, he’s always been interested in you ever since you first came to the valley, and it’s as time’s went on and you slowly assimilated into his little trio friend group that he found himself thinking: yeah, four is a better number anyway. A small crush, he tells himself. Nothing serious, he jokes with Sam. No I wasn’t staring, he whispers to Abi. But deep down, he knows exactly what he feels, and as you finally come back into your living room with excitement in your eyes he knows it to be true— he wants to see that face every day going forward.

“Sorry for the wait!” You smile, his eyes drawn to your blushed cheeks when your attention is immediately focused on the TV in front of you. Tonight seems like a good time to confess, because while he certainly wants to do other things with you, it’d be rude not to make his intentions clear in the first place. To be a gentleman, and at the very least provide courtesy before anything else, smiling warmly back at you while you busy yourself with getting comfortable next to him. He likes you, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity right in front of him. Alone, with you. There really isn’t a better scenario to confess in, is there?

“S’all right,” He half-grunts as he repositions himself to be more facing sideways so that he can keep looking at your pretty face, as he always does. “You ready for the next episode?”

“Yes!” You beam back at him, remote control in your hand as you glance at him for what he thinks is a final time tonight before starting the weekly show, so he does his best to respond in kind. It’s one that the group had decided to watch together, and though Sebastian wasn’t that interested in the premise, he did enjoy the thought of spending more time with you, which is why he mostly agreed to join in the first place. He’s grown to like the show more anyway, though he’s unsure if that’s down to the (honestly, pretty mediocre) cinematography or because he gets to stare at you for an extended period of time each week. Lovingly, of course, he’d hate to come off as a creep. Always cautious about his looking, but feeling unable to control his desires for too long before he’s eyeing you up and down again. He always waits to dive deeper into his thoughts of you until he’s home at least, mostly because he can’t stand the thought of popping a boner in front of so many people and to be left unable to live it down for the rest of his life, but also because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. Would rather the boner scenario to making you feel any negativity in any capacity. “I’m so glad Sam and Abi said it was cool to continue, I’ve been waiting all week to see what happens next!”

Ah, yeah, the romantic plot line or… Something. It’s difficult to pay attention to the current story when his vision is so full of you each week, but he’s heard you chat about it enough to get a good idea of what to expect next. The protagonist and her love interest, finally, seemingly getting together. It’s cute to see you so invested in something, and he too finds himself thankful that his friends have allowed the continuation of the series in the privacy of a company of two. “Yeah, real nice of them, huh?” He continues out of pleasantries, knowing just how much you wanna get started. Sam promised to watch the episode himself, all bundled up under blankets in his own living room— Sebastian knows his best friend is probably practicing guitar instead, and Abigail will be too stubborn to give up gaming for a show she can catch up on when you ramble about it in the group chat later. Still, there’s comfort in the space they’ve provided him, his chest warm and gaze half-lidded as you press play, the shows intro sequence filling the remaining small space left between two bodies.

He’d like to fill that space with himself, eventually.

Even during the admittedly drawn out intro you’re cutely engrossed, the glow from the TV shining in your eyes so prettily, like there were stars or something, and he cringes at his sappy internal monologue. You’re still far more interesting to watch than whatever the screen is currently showing, and he takes his time when committing every detail of you to memory tonight. The innocent way your eyes are glued to the screen, the unknowing smile on your face as your favorite character shows on screen, the way you edge just slightly off your seat as if to get closer, closer to the screen instead of his arms. He huffs impatiently, low and quiet to himself at the thought. What he wouldn’t give to have you in his lap instead, he’d even still let you watch your favorite show, so long as he could hold you. Softly touching you, kissing the top of your head as a reminder that you are wanted. So deep in his thoughts of you that he doesn’t even realize how much time has passed— it can’t be that much— but he distinctly hears a moan that drags him back to reality. A soft but sinful one, his head snapping to the source of the sound as his cheeks instinctively flush. It’s coming from the TV, an intimate sex scene including those two characters you like so much. Already? He thinks to himself, so much for tension, before he finds his eyes once again falling on you, and he gasps a little at the sight that greets him.

Too many times he’s spent lonely late nights imagining exactly how you look right now, curled up in on yourself as you avert your gaze from the screen with an almost shy look on your face. Honestly, he never thought you’d ever optionally look away when this show was on, but he thinks you’re embarrassed. A sneaky smirk plastered on his face at the realization. It is a little awkward to be watching a sex scene with your friends, he can admit that. But he finds it difficult to feel uneasy himself, too amused at the way you clear your throat as the moans continue to fill the otherwise silence of your living room, keeping his vision locked on you to see exactly how you react to the explicit scene playing out with curiosity. Something he can use again you in the future.

“We can skip past it, if you want.” He offers before really thinking, his heart pace quickening as he tries his best to resolve your discomfort. Sure, it’s fun to watch you struggle, but all he wants is for you to be happy. “Really, I don’t mind—”

“No, it’s— I mean, it’s okay, really.” You stumble over your words, flashing him an appreciative smile before lowering your head once more to the ground.

Well, okay, he thinks. You’re clearly struggling to get through the scene, and though he’d rather you welcomed his help with open arms, he doesn’t mind watching you grow increasingly riled up by the exaggerated gasps and sighs from the show. In his more perverted mind, it’s easy to imagine that he’s watching porn with you right now, a quick look back at the TV screen shows naked bodies rolling around together, sharp inhales and teasing giggles. He wonders if you’d react the same way to him, then just as promptly he corrects himself and knows he’d have you moaning louder than that. And deep down in the pit of his stomach, or a bit lower than that, he feels as though this is his chance to show you that fact too, sighing to himself as he tries to resolve his inner conflict— and obviously fails. Because it’s about you, and he hasn’t a hope in Hell when it comes to you.

“You sure?” His voice is soft, spoken lightly and carried with faux reassurance while his hand stretches out to meet your trembling thigh, sucking air in through his teeth at the way you jump from his touch. “I don’t mind, cause it seems to be… Getting to you, y’know?” He smirks through his words, knowingly teasing you despite his heart wanting nothing more than to soothe. Can’t help it, you’re too cute like this, all blushy and pouty thanks to his words. And given the chance, he’ll do more than just soothe things for you anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad in his taunts. He notices your thighs squeeze together in response to his words, or maybe it’s because of his feather light touch, he doesn’t mind either way. Regardless, his cock stirs in his tight pants at just how easy you seem to be, how innocent and sensitive you’re acting, shying away from his view at just how quickly he’s picked up on the state of you. You like this scene, maybe a little too much, huh? Not that he’s complaining, his own heart racing at just the light drag of his knuckles up and down your leg, catching the way you shiver into him, the small bite of your lip that causes his cock to jerk against his leg. Ah, maybe confessing can wait a little bit longer.

It takes him a moment to find his voice again when you refuse to answer, and he’s surprised to hear the breathy tone he carries with his words— “You can… Y’know, deal with it, if ya want.” He pauses, gauging your reaction to his invitation to touch yourself. Internally, he’s debating on his next words with extreme caution. Sure, it’s normal to masturbate, everyone does it, everyone knows everyone does it. But, is it too weird to talk about it with your friends? Maybe only if they’re the opposite gender, right? Because he’s had countless conversations about the topic with Sam, but never with Abigail. And he realizes then that it’s because he’s got a crush on you, and rather than it being an invitation, it’s an attempt at begging. “Really, I don’t mind.” He simply settles on, smiling reassuringly at you when your eyes finally meet his. And it’s true, he doesn’t mind, would relish the opportunity to relieve himself in private too if he’s honest— the look you’re giving him going straight to his cock as he imagines fucking his friend right on the very couch you sit on.

And then quietly, almost inaudible, he hears you squeak: “Really? You’re okay with that?” and he all too eagerly nods.

“Absolutely. Who am I to judge what you get off to, right?” He half laughs, attempting to make the otherwise awkward situation just a bit less embarrassing for you, shifting in his seat to hopefully make his hard cock less noticeable. “Take your time, I’ll be right here—”

Oh, wait, you’re undressing right in front of him? Instinctively, he looks at your face for answers, a quick flit up only to be met with a playful grin. Seductive, maybe? He knows better than to assume, though more than that, he knows better than to speak up when your crush is taking the first step towards assumed intimacy. Well, there’s no hiding his hard on now, is there? Your bold actions causing his pants to feel even tighter, his hands frozen in his lap while he carefully watches you peel off each individual layer of clothing slowly. So slowly that he’s convinced you’re teasing him, the continued gasps and groans emanating from the TV fading into the distant background as he instead favors listening to the soft shuffles of your clothes, the muffled thud as they’re dropped carelessly to your floor. Fuck, he already thought you were pretty before, but seeing you take action like this almost makes him dizzy with how attractive he finds you, and his inability to take the initiative back from you due to how in awe he is of your body only further turns him on. He knows you know well enough that he hadn’t meant to take care of “business” right here and now, in front of him on your well worn couch, but he can hardly complain at how you chose to mischaracterize his words when he’s no better than you are right now. “I—” he tries to speak. “I mean— fuck, okay—” He’s laughing, though not at you, and your cheeky side smirk back at him lets him know you understand.

“Is this okay?” You whisper at him.

“Shit, yeah, no, it’s cool. I— I don’t mind, go ahead.” He struggles to get the words out fast enough, but he smiles back at you when hearing your nervous giggle.

Without realizing, he anxiously runs his hand through his hair, thumbing stray strands out his face so he has a better view of your revealing body. The last item of clothing drops and he exhales harshly, unaware of the breath he was holding up until that point. You’re naked bar your underwear, and he curses low under his breath at the mere sight. This is confirmation, isn’t it? That his feelings aren’t just one sided, that he was taking too long to confess and so your hand was metaphorically forced, swallowing hard at the sight of your hand actually dropping to pet lightly at your clothed cunt. “Fuck y’can’t just— I mean I want you to it’s just—” He’s already gasping, replaying scenarios he’s fucked his fist to at night but coming up empty. Nothing compares to you right now, the cute blush on your cheeks, the way your lips part with heavy breathing. Shit, okay, he needs to tell you exactly how he feels. Wide palmed stroking at his painfully hard cock, no shame left in his system when you’ve just given him a wordless go ahead, he’s ready to cum just from your show of want— but he instead just teases himself. Wants to really show his appreciation of you soon enough, but first he needs to take control back. You’ve had your fun, now let him.

He clears his suddenly dry throat while you angle yourself towards him, biting your lip to presumably stifle moans. No, don’t do that, he thinks, cocky confidence taking over his mind with the understanding that you’re waiting, seeking his command like a good girl— and he’s all too happy to give in to you. Watching you drag a single finger up and down your clothed slit idly, eyeing at the growing wet patch near the bottom, fuck he wants a taste— “You can take em off.” He quickly glances up at you, but as if physically pulled back down, he’s drawn to look at your cunt again, his palm circling against the clothed wet tip of his cock as he leaks precum all over the inside of his pants for you.

And though he’s controlled mostly by his cock right now, he’s still a little surprised to see you listen to his words, his voice coming out in a shocked rasp of “Fuck, you’re really doing it…” which is less of a question and more of an admiration. Because yes, while this is the single hottest thing to ever happen to him, he also genuinely likes you. Wants to be with you for more than just this, but a little indulgence never hurt anyone, right? Seems you agree from how eagerly you get moving, his eyes glued to the spot between your legs as you hike them up a little, knees pressed to your chest to give him such a good fucking view, oh my God, of your pretty little cunt before your panties peel and drop to the pile of your other clothing on the floor. His cock hard and wet, drooling over his legs enough to prompt him into at least unbuttoning his pants to offer just a little relief— only a little. Because he’s more focused on you right now, and how pretty your thighs look when pressed together like that, and how tasty your wet little cunt looks as he finds it difficult to keep himself sat in place at the other end of the couch from you, wanting only to dive head first between your legs to eat you dry— he’s never been hornier than he is right now, and it’s all your fault. He’s got front row seats to the best show in the house— you, and he’s filled with need to show you that you’re a lot hotter than whatever they were showing on TV.

“Touch yourself, please— God,” He ends up begging, too turned on to really care for the embarrassment of sounding so needy, and it seems you’re much the same. A small whine escaping your lips that, he swears, almost makes him cum on the spot. So completely fraught with need for you right now that his body automatically turns to face you, one leg bent and pressed against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, his rock hard cock front and center for you to masturbate to— no regret present on his features as he looks to your moving fingers with glazed over eyes, his mouth remaining slightly agape while he breathes shallowly. This is so much better than anything his mind could create, his chest tight with want for you and his balls full of seed, the palm resting on his cock now digging harder, circling his cock faster in a plead to have you match his pace. You must know what you do to him, otherwise you wouldn’t be taking your time so slowly, bitting on the inside of his cheek with impatience until your finger finally meets your slit and your legs magically open. And fuck, what a sight that is. His hips jut up on their own accord once you’re in position, head tilted back slightly as if to try and calm himself down before snapping back to watch you part your lips and drag a finger from bottom to top on your slit.

No amount of porn could have prepared him for this, the intimacy present in each glide of your finger up and down your cunt, collecting the slick drooling from your hole to drag it back up to your clit. He can hear just how wet you are, heart caught in his throat as he swallows thickly in concentration. “You’re not watching the show…” You mewl, and he has half a mind to pin you under him right there and then.

“Don’t care, this is better.” He’s quick to moan. “Can you— Can you go a little faster?”

You nod, and he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull at the sweet sounds you let out at the increased pace. His fist wraps tight around the bit of cock he can reach before he grows immediately frustrated and instead digs his hands under his pants to free his cock some more, sighing into the relaxed feeling of freedom until he once again starts to palm at himself— then he’s tight lipped groaning. He feels like a dirty pervert, touching himself to you touching yourself, and he wonders if you feel the same. He thinks you should feel like royalty, the full effect you have on him in clear display as he touches himself to you, struggles to keep his hands to himself when you sound so pretty for him. And you’re such a good listener too, his cock jerking to the understanding that you want to please him too, fucking your little cunt faster as per his words, your palm sticky with slick that he wants to lick all clean for you.

He can’t hold back much longer.

“Do you mind if I—?” He asks, alluding to his cock as he nods down to it— still clothed, still rock hard and needy, still leaking precum, still wanting to be balls deep in you.

A quick nod of your head and he’s pulling his pants off faster than he’s ever done in his life, boxers coming with them as he clumsily tugs them off enough to kick them the rest of the way, throwing them into his own pile of clothing on the floor to half match your state of nakedness. He hisses into the cold air that kisses his tip once free, almost moaning as it slaps against his tummy with how rigid he is. “So fuckin’ hard—” He hums, mostly to himself, but he’s happy you’ve heard him too given the soft moan you let out too. “Look at what you did to me, fuck, what you do to me—” He praises you, leaning back against the armrest of your couch to fuck his hips forward, just a little, as if to really show off just how much he wants you, his fist quickly connecting to the base of his cock before he’s dragging it upwards to collect the copious amounts of precum you’ve pulled out of him and pulling back down, coating his whole length wet to tug at. And he’s not shy about it either, too far gone with the lust pooling in his tummy to care much for anything other than the need to get off, to get off with you. As he always does, really, even if most nights he’s alone in doing so, but now’s his opportunity to show you how much he likes you— cock hard and ready just for you, because of you.

He doesn’t mind an audience as he jacks off, so long as that audience consists of you. Hurriedly fucking his fist to a desperate tempo to try and quell the butterflies that fill his chest every time you make a sound, pulling the hem of his hoodie up to reveal some of his toned tummy for you to gawk at, to somewhat return the favor. God, you sound better than he thought you would, his own moans caught and quiet as he does his best to instead make room for you, to listen intently, ignoring the loud schlick of his fist pumping up and down on his dribbling cock and rather focusing on the wet squelch of your little cunt. How fast your fingers fuck into yourself, how he hopes to God you’re thinking of him, wanting to replace your fingers for his cock as he so urgently needs to. No words are said, not that he can think of any anyway— head empty and replaced with primal need, wanting moans shared among friends as he gets off with you. How he wishes he could speak though, to tell you how hot you are, how he’s dreamed of this for so long, how he’s so close to cumming just from watching you— doesn’t even have to be touched by you, just being in your presence is enough to get him off. And he’s focusing so hard on the way you flick at your clit, how fastly you circle against it, learning exactly what you like so he can hopefully mimic it at a later date all while he’s thrusting into his tightly closed fist and mumbling your name like some sort of prayer.

He’s getting dangerously close, and he hasn’t even been able to appreciate you like you deserve, show you exactly how he feels about you. And so—

“You wanna— wanna ride me?” He ends up choking out, acting out of pure instinct and talking before fully realizing his words, eyes rolling to the back of his head despite his best efforts when instead of verbally responding, you start climbing towards him. All of it happens so fast, his knees buckling and straightening out on the couch, sliding further down the length of it so that only his head remains on the armrest and you have plenty room to sit on top. His hands work on autopilot, finding home on your hips to help steady you above his lap as your nails rake up his tummy, digging under his hoodie to drag it further up his chest, causing him to moan into the hunger of your actions. Urgency is what he feels, desperate for the feeling of you wrapped around him as you immediately take hold of the base of his cock as soon as you can, his hips bucking into your touch to seek the tightness of your hole, unable to stop the tense moans tumbling from his open mouth. “Fuck, that’s it, guide it in— Sit on it, yeah?” he hopelessly babbles, fingers digging into the fat of your waist to try and pull you down his cock as you catch the tip to your hole— and then he’s done for. Completely at your mercy as you slow the tempo down, gradually fucking more of his length into your little cunt with subtle bounces until he’s all the way inside and he can finally breathe again. It’s difficult keeping himself held back enough not to hurt you when you feel better than anything he’s experienced before, his jaw strained and appreciative moans high-strung as he wills his hips to still for a second or two, let you grow accustomed to his fat length.

It takes him a second to actually collect his breath though, mind clouded by how tight and warm you are wrapped around his stupidly hard cock— so much so that it’s impossible to form any coherent thought as you sit flush on his lap. “No idea.” He manages to mumble, groaning at the seductive way your breathe huh? in response. Causes his hips to fuck upwards into you regardless of his best efforts, trying to thrust deeper into your tiny hole until there’s nothing left for you to take and grinding his hips against you. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve wanted this, fuck.” His hands dragging your waist down to circle you on his cock for you, doing all of the heavy lifting simply because he can’t stop. “Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside of you, shit, y’feel so good—” he continues to gasp, his ass lifted off the couch under him to really drive his cock further into you. The action causing you to whine his name so perfectly, so sweetly as he circles his cock in you that he’s forced into more movement. Like something inside of him snaps, the last remaining resolve he has to treat you right falling the moment he hears his name sounding like that. And then he’s going, his beg for you to ride him thrown out the window as soon as he thrusts once into you, instead forcing you to fall back down on his cock with every precise hump of his cock into you, bouncing you up and down at his own pace due to how powerful and needy his thrusts are. You’re not riding him so much as he’s fucking you from below, keeping you pinned close to his cock so that he’s barely exiting your perfect cunt despite humping you into the air. He holds on to you like his life depends on it, a droning whine escaping his lips at the increased friction he fucks into you with, spilling loads of precum against your insides that inevitably end up running back down his cock with each speedy thrust. And your tits, God your fuckin’ tits, hypnotized by they way they bounce with his fucks— so badly does he want to reach out and grab one of em, drag it into his mouth for him to feed on while he fucks you raw— fuck he’s fucking you raw. A rough growl clawing up his throat at the thought, feels too fucking good to warn you of his predicament, can’t stop fucking into you like he was under a spell.

A shuddered “Tight little cunt, yeah? Feel s’fuckin’ good, shit— Look so hot riding me like this—” cut off only by a gasp at the sound of you so needy for more, his cock throbbing inside of you with want to preform but he’s so close it almost pains him to hold back. He was right, you are louder than the show girl, self assurance running through him and going right to his tip with the confidence that he’s fucking you better, the loud skin on skin slap resonating in the room to drown out whatever is left of the TV. He’s never felt so good before in his life, unable to even imagine going back to a life of just his hand now that he’s had a taste of your cunt, the feeling of your legs squeezing around him as you attempt to match his speed only to inevitably fail from how frantically he thrusts into you from below is too fucking cute, his balls tight and taut as he nears his end before he’s even truly started: something that would be embarrassing if not for the fact that he hopes you understand it’s because you really do feel that fucking good and he’s genuinely that in love with you that he can’t— he can’t hold back any longer. Fucking his dream girl while she displays herself so completely on top? The sight of your tits, your cute scrunched up face, the feeling of your cute little cunt sucking his cock so well? Yeah, there’s no way he was gonna last very long.

“Sorry— M’sorry, babe—” he whines, a high pitched sound to match his eager humps as he’s unable to stop the predictable from happening, looking directly into your eyes in hopes of communicating just how badly he wants to make it up to you immediately following as he thrusts into you a couple more times, fast and hard, burying himself completely into you before shooting a fat load deep inside your tiny cunt. A soft sob of your name followed by loud, gasped moans, like he’s forgot how to breathe again, his hips still obsessively humping into you to prolong his orgasm— the best of his life, might he add— and to fuck his cum deeper into you in some sort of innate need to claim you, insides and all. He said he was sorry, but he isn’t really. Not even when you let out a pathetic whine from the loss of stimulation, promising you: “Jus’ a minute, gimmie a sec.” With harsh pants as he allows himself to come down just enough to move back into action. He wants to act fast, to build upon what he’s just promised you.

“C’mere,” he breathlessly pleads with you, signaling for you to hop off his cock for a moment, forgetting all about the mess his cum will surely stain into your couch. “Jus’ sit right there, trust me.”

And because you’re a good girl, you listen, and he tuts affectionately down at you to soothe the pout you’re sporting. “Lean back a bit for me, yeah? Let me apologize.” He whispers, soft and flirtatiously, helping to guide you into position on your back, similar to how he was just moments ago while he hovers over you. The confused stare you look back at him with is so cute, and he can feel his mushy affection for you edge back in as his cock controlled brain starts to calm down, now focused solely on making sure you’re seen to as his dominant hand dips and disappears between your legs. Not a second later and he’s collecting the dripping cum he’s just fucked into you from your hole, using it as lube to rub gently at your clit as you look at him with shock. “Told ya.” He smiles, rubbing soothingly at your inner thigh with his free hand while he strokes your puffy clit. “Sensitive girl, made me feel so good, fuck— Y’look so pretty like this,” he dotes on you, hoping his words will help you get off where his cock failed— though he doesn’t think you mind too much. Not with how your grasping so insistently to his loose hoodie for stability, or from the way your legs wriggle and draw him closer, the room filled with your enticing moans each time he completes a circle on your clit. Now, with a clearer head and with you quite literally in the palm of his hand, he coos down at you with intent. “Think I love you. Really.” And he can’t stop the loving smile that tugs on his lips, nor the surprised sigh that sneaks up on him as he feels your locked thighs tremble around his back.

Next time, he’ll have you cumming on his cock. He has to, the sight of your back arching into him, the lewd expression you wear so well with the voiceless moan, fuck, he can feel his cock harden again just from pleasing you. His heart full at the thought that hearing his confession is what finally made you cum, humming quietly down to you while he finger fucks you through your high, thumb still rubbing lightly against your used clit while you gush for him— “So pretty, good girl.” He compliments you, praising you for a job well done in getting him off and satisfying his need to see you finish, too. It’s all he wants, really. To make you happy by any means necessary, and he’s happy to fill the role you had him play tonight any day, gently helping you come down from your high with slowly decreased movements until you lazily smile back at his adoring expression.

“Feelin’ good?” He asks calmly, because he obviously knows the answer already, but he wants to check in with you regardless.

You nod sleepily, followed by a soft “Mhm, thank you.” Before reaching you arms out for him to lean into, and he enthusiastically gives you what you’re seeking, his half hard cock resting against your sticky cunt as he wraps his arms around you too, pulling you in for a tight hunched over hug on your (now) stained couch.

Better than any show ever, he’s sure.

“I meant it, y’know.” He whispers against your neck after a silent moment, nosing further into it until he’s able to place a few light kisses against your heated skin with a smile.

“I know.” You reply, and he can’t help but remain hopeful when you squeeze his body tighter, wrapping your legs around him further to ask for more closeness. “But you made me miss my favorite show, so…”

He laughs a genuine, deep, bark of laughter against your shoulder before he huffs defiantly, pulling himself off your exhausted body with the intent on chastising you for alluding to the fact that your show is better than his sex, but he can’t find any strength left in him to tell you off after catching sight of how pretty you are when all fucked out. So instead, “I know, I’m sorry.” He relents, sitting back into his original side of the couch to stretch out a bit. “We can try watching again after a shower, if you want?”

“Yeah.” You yawn, and his heart hurts with just how much he loves you. The simplistic domesticity of the moment getting to his head as you extend a hand for him to hold, to help you get to your feet. “I’d like that.”

He’ll just have to get your return confession out of you… After your show.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sebastian smut #- writing

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stardewremixed · 11 months

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Justice for Stardewies

Because people need jobs and purpose...

Jodi

has been a single mom for so long, even though Kent returns in Year 2. She was a Registered Nurse, and replaces Maru at the clinic when Maru decides to go back to school. Jodi starts to feel her confidence grow as she works outside her home. And Harvey is a good boss, letting her work around Vincent's school schedule.

Maru

Inspired by Harvey, Maru wants to pursue and advanced degree in medical technology. With her poor eyesight, her dreams of becoming an astronaut faded. But she still gets to tinker and play with technology, which is something she loves.

Marnie / Marlon

deserves better than a "secret" relationship with Lewis. His family has wealth and historically held positions of power. The Governor is his cousin after all. Still Marnie deserves real "out in the open" love. Marlon asks her out one day after she visits the Adventurer's Guild with the weekly dairy delivery. Their first official date is the Flower Dance. And they dance together for the whole town to see. Lewis is jealous but... he had his chance. #sorrynotsorry

Shane

is sober and working at the movie theater during the evenings. He attends vet school during the day. Shane wants to open an animal clinic, with an emphasis on chickens... 🐔 er... farm animals. And he makes his famous pepper poppers for all town events.

Pam

Pam went to rehab. She is now reemployed at Pierre's. She really enjoys helping customers find what they are looking for, and she joined Caroline's class to get fit. She has already dropped almost 20lbs.

Robin

Robin does so much for the town. She is convinced by the people to run against Lewis. And then she actually wins. Since she finally has help from Alex, Robin's business is booming. She is able to hire on another employee so she can focus on her new important duties as Mayor of Pelican Town.

Linus

Is anyone surprised he actually has money? And lots of it? Linus gets involved with other veterans like himself with much encouragement from Gus. Now with properly flowing taxpayers' dollars, Linus is able to build a tiny Veterans Village for former military men and women to "get off grid," find healing, and a fresh start. Kent gets involved too after he starts counseling for his PTSD.

Alex

Robin hired Alex as a handyman. Alex is surprisingly good with his hands and figuring things out, especially electrical. With no formal training, he can rewire televisions and stereos. At first, he just tinkers in Robin's workshop. But then he starts doing bigger projects. After getting an electricians license, Alex helps wire houses and rewire faulty electrical in other homes and businesses around the Valley. It's blue collar work but it pays really well, and his skills are sorely needed. And he can work as he wants. So he still has plenty of time to toss the gridball around with friends, and take Dusty to the dog park, and even help Granny in the kitchen.

Evelyn / George

Ev still helps out at the community garden. She starts growing spices and herbs to bake in her breads and cookies. Once the Community Center is repaired, Evelyn hosts a bake sale to help with the upkeep. And Haley joins her in organizing a cake walk. George gets motivated, with encouragement from Jodi (since she is a vet's wife), to do the Valley's own version of Special Olympics. Alex helps his grandpa train.

Abigail

finally graduates after six years. She knows what she wants. She is going to pursue a master's in folklore and mythology. While it isn't business like her dad wanted, Pierre is still proud of his little girl. Abi leaves for Zuzu City (on the repaired bus line). She also has an internship lined up, translating manuscripts (since she learned ancient Dwarven).

Sebastian

takes coding to the next level. He finds a partner in Zuzu. They start a tech company together. Seb still comes home on weekends to spend time with his family (he and Demetrius patched things up ever since his stepdad got his official diagnosis as autistic). Seb always brings rice pudding for Demetrius, from the Asian Market he lives above. Seb is also working on releasing his first video game, inspired by his experiences in the mines.

Sam

After the band breaks up, Sam decides to go solo. He leaves for Zuzu City for some gigs. The first weekend he is there, he makes a connection with a talent scout who thinks Sam is really good. Sam starts landing bigger and bigger shows. Next thing he knows, he's traveling the world, opening for big name bands. It is a dream come true. He never stays in one place too long, but that's just what he loves about his "work."

Elliott

publishes his romance novel. And then his editor suggests a series. It is super successful. With his new steady income, Elliott upgrades his cabin to a proper beach cottage. He teams up with Penny to write a children's book.

Penny / the children

returns to school and obtains a proper teaching license. With help from Robin, she opens an after school enrichment program for Vincent, Jas, Leo, and a few other children. And she partners with Professor Snail to offer summer camps on Ginger Island. Penny also organizes a beach clean-up day.

Vincent starts an entomology club with the Prof, much to his delight.

Jas works with Emily to create costumes for a play. The story of the Winter Star is the first show they put on for the town. And this seriously helps Jas' confidence.

Leo repairs the treehouse with the help of Alex. And Pam, who attended cosmetology school, gives him a proper "big kid" haircut.

415 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months

Text

It's Who We Have | Part Seven

Summary: A cruel twist of fate has brought them together, and it might be enough to push them apart | Word Count: 5.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of terrorism, that episode of trigger point 🫣

A/N: guys we finally made it. The scene that made me start this series 😘 enjoy!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Despite knowing Billy had endured a rough night on the sofa, the morning revealed the aftermath in his dishevelled hair, longer stubble, and tired countenance, as if he battled a tempest in his sleep.

Surprisingly, slipping into his bed felt oddly natural, shedding only her jeans and bra before nestling beneath the sheets, enveloped by the familiar scent that wrapped around her like a tender embrace. Despite the temptation to invite him to share the bed, she resisted, though her heart tugged against her rational mind.

The tension between them simmered beneath the surface, palpable in the silences punctuated by sporadic conversation and the noisy sips of tea. The oppressive heat of the day seemed to sap the air from her lungs, despite every window cracked open in Billy's flat. And yet, each time she stole a glance at him—clad in nothing more than worn joggers and a shirt clinging to his chest with sweat—her mouth inexplicably grew drier, amplifying the unspoken desires lingering between them since childhood, heightened by the previous night's fleeting kiss.

After freshening up a reasonable amount, she gathered the things she’d bought with her, ensuring it was alright if her car was left in its spot while Billy offered to drive her to Farringdon Tube Station. It felt like they were making up for the awkward flirting and silences from when they were teenagers, and she cursed herself for how easy it was for him to make her cheeks warm without seemingly doing much at all.

She sighed as they left the street-level door, the heavy weight of humidity dragging her down to the earth with every stifled step. Billy’s car wasn’t fancy, as she’d found out the night he’d driven her home from the pub with Abi and Libby strewn across the back seat and the way the weight of them made his car scrape against every speed bump on the way home. They smiled at one another awkwardly over the roof of the battered Vauxhall as Billy unlocked his door and both slid inside, groaning once again at the air inside the car somehow even worse.

“Why don’t you put the air-con on?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat, plopping her bag between her feet.

Billy scoffed with a boyish smile, the key needing two turns before the engine fired into life, “fucking air con. They just blow hot air at you.”

God, it was nice to see him smile.

Nothing was said about the night before. She figured he might need a moment to collect his thoughts, as Billy often did.

He was a thinker. Quiet. Always had been. And though age has wisened him somewhat to this behaviour, some things never changed.

She didn’t mind. All she had was time. And if needed she’d wait for him to broach the subject whenever he was ready for it.

It only took twenty minutes for him to pull up to a slow stop beside the tube station. It was busier than usual, but being a Saturday, it was rife with people and groups of all types, and not only that, but she furrowed her brows at the group of people gathered in the middle of the road, with signs held high, and angry expressions.

“Bloody hell, what’s all this about?”

Billy sighed, his thumb rubbing his his forehead in annoyance, “fucking protest.”

She hummed and gathered her bag from the footwell, apparently seeing Billy was in no mood to delve into the confusion mix that was his emotions.

But her hand barely brushed the door handle.

“Wait..” he practically breathed without effort, fiddling with the gear stick as if he needed something to do with his hands “Can we…at least try and talk about last night?”

She couldn’t really read his expression. And she felt her heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure he could sense it. A sort of dread pooling there at the thought he hadn’t meant any of it, and that he was too drunk at the time to speak clearly.

She still felt his hand on her stomach, fingers barely stealing beneath the waistband of her jeans.

Billy wet his lips, his sandy blonde hair falling into his face. Her heart raced with uncertainty, hoping that her not moving an inch and her hand falling from the car door was enough of a reply.

“I just…I need to know if last night meant anything to you.”

Her breath caught, emotions swirling in her gut like a hurricane. A barrage of feelings made her feel nauseous, remembering how she had slept, with his scent permeating her senses, unable to sleep with the tingling to her lips and the inescapable idea that there was no going back.

If she had known that Billy had done somewhat the same. Laid on the sofa, arm thrown over his eyes, confused and pent up in equal measure, unable to relax at the idea that the woman he’d kissed, and bared all for, was asleep in his bed.

“Of course it did,” she replied softly, her eyes fluttering with vulnerability, “but…did it mean anything to you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze falling to the floor before meeting hers again, as if her question directed back at him had taken him off guard, “Yeah,” he confessed. “It meant everything.”

A wave of relief soared through her so much she felt weightless, coupled with a sense of longing she was now unable to suppress.

“Then what now?” she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty and yet hope.

He sighed through his nose, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, in a gesture that made her heart squeeze, “I don’t know,” he admitted, his thumb lingering to graze her cheek, “But…can we figure it out together?”

With a hard swallow of her own, she nodded sincerely, and feeling a surge of courage, she leaned in closer, her heart pounding as she leaned in to close the distance between them. With a gentle touch, she pressed her lips to his, a silent affirmation of their unspoken connection. But the only affirmation Billy needed.

Billy’s breath caught in his throat, his hand still lingering on her cheek as he returned the kiss, his lips meeting and moulding to hers with a tender urgency. In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the warmth and promise of what lay ahead, whether it was a difficult path to pave or not.

The angry beep of the horn from a car behind them made them break apart with a stifled and awkward giggle, cheeks all warm, but a silent understanding lingering. He let out a low chuckle, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you.”

She smiled warmly back at him, her heart fluttering with newfound excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. "Me too," she confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for the door handle. “Still promise?”

For a moment, he looked lost, until he remembered what he would do to break himself from the hatred and judgement of the people he was currently involved with. And he nodded, “promise.”

Her fingers pulled the clunky door handle.

“Hang on, Lana’s ringing. She’s been calling me all bloody morning.”

She looked back and waited, watching as Billy put Lana on speakerphone, already seemingly annoyed with the conversation before it had even started.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Lana sounded ragged on the other end, as if she were walking quickly, “where are you? Sound like you’re in the car?”

“Yeah was driving to meet my mates, why?”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

She furrowed her brows. When was Lana ever protective of Billy? It wasn’t like her at all. Usually she’d want as little as possible to do with whatever Billy busied himself doing. Although she couldn’t deny, perhaps his big sister was just as afraid for what he’d got involved in as she had been.

“Just mates, Lana. Why what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy, I just needed to call you. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?”

Billy nearly stalled the car, lurching it forward slightly and bumping one of the protestors, and all at once they were surrounding them, with angered faces and patting at the car windows.

“Billy. Billy.”

He sighed, flashing two fingers to a protester on his side, “Farringdon Tube Station.”

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

His fingers gripped the steering wheel, flashing a confusion expression to her across the centre console at how worried Lana sounded, and how his sister was doing a piss poor job of hiding it in her voice, “I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.”

She did have a glance around, surmising that these ‘friends’ should have been here by now.

Why was dread pooling in her stomach?

Something felt wrong. Like it was pulling her to the spot she was sat.

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads.”

There was that little pang of sadness again. The familiar sound of Billy being let down.

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

He rubbed his nose, scrunching it as if his sister could see, “Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

That dread began to mutate into fear then.

Her fingers started to shake.

“You’re winding me up, aren’t you.”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking winding you up?! Have any of them been near your car? Look around, is there anything different about it?”

“Got a mate fixing up my car.” he’d said just the day before.

She felt as if she might vomit.

“Eh?”

“For fucks sake, Billy! Listen to me! I need you to check the car for me, okay? Have a look under the steering wheel or under the footwell, anything you can see that might be unusual.”

Fear invaded Billy’s voice then, and it made her feel no better about her own, “right…yeah…”

She watched her friend. Her friend? No. The man she loved clawed about his car with shaking hands, dropping various bits onto the floor. A sponge fell from the dashboard, revealing the old, used lipstick tube that Becky must have owned. Packs of ibuprofen. Scrunched up receipts.

Every bit of Billy's daily life crumbling apart in search of danger that lingered inside.

And all she could do was watch on in horror, unmoving.

Her trembling feet shifted across as if she were cowering, when Billy lifted the foot mat and he himself, froze with parted lips.

“Lana there’s some masking tape underneath the foot mat.”

Lana's reaction over the phone mirrored hers, and she heard a hard breath crackle on the other line.

“Alright, okay, can you…really carefully lift up the masking tape?”

An acrid fear bubbled at the back of her throat.

“There’s…there’s a wire, Lana.”

A pause.

Come on Lana.

“Can you see where it’s leading to?”

The way Billy held the wire between his fingers so lightly made her want to shut her eyes right and never open them again. It lead to an opening between the glovebox and the door, such a tiny hole that nobody would have noticed unless they looked closely.

“The…the glove box…”

Their eyes met briefly. His stuttering voice made her want to weep and even more so the look of wide-eyed horror in his gaze.

Come on, Billy.

She swallowed dryly, as his fingers tugged the glovebox open with a haunting click.

Silence enveloped her, suffocating in its intensity.

Her gaze fixated on the ominous device nestled amidst the tape and wires, its menacing presence choking Billy's car in a miasma of dread. Each heartbeat echoed louder than his fading voice, each second stretching into an eternity as she grappled with fear's paralysing grip.

Her fingers, entwined around the car handle, hovered in limbo, caught between fleeing into uncertainty or surrendering to the looming threat. A call from Lana had shattered the fragile peace, leaving her teetering on the precipice of terror.

With a quivering exhale, she released her grasp, her hands trembling with a raw, primal energy. The world outside, once vibrant with life, now seemed tinged with an ominous shadow. Farringdon Tube station teemed with unsuspecting souls, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the surface.

Dread clawed at her insides, a nauseating churn of realisation settling in her gut like vomit. These people, innocent and carefree, were now unwitting pawns in a deadly game. Families frolicked, children laughed, teenagers revelled in their youth—all oblivious to the impending peril.

A chill swept over her, a cold sweat tracing the length of her spine, pushing her seat back as far as it would go to distance herself from the danger staring back at her. Billy's panicked voice crept back into her ears, a stark reminder of the impending catastrophe that loomed ever closer.

“Fucking. Hell. Shit, shit, shit, it’s hooked up to summat…looks like a bomb” “I’ve got to get out the car, if it explodes I’m done for man, I’m gonna die-”

“No! Billy! Do not get out the car! Do not get out the car. You just need to stay calm and listen to me, alright?”

She reached out with urgency as Billy made the move, calmly pulling him back with a softened gaze, “Billy, hey, look at me. It’s alright, I’m here…”

Lana's urgent tone cut through the tension like a knife, her concern palpable even through the crackling phone connection. "Billy, who's in the car with you?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharp with urgency.

Billy was still trying to catch his breath, so she replied, “it’s me…Billy was giving me a lift to the station, I-I didn’t know-”

“Shit…”, her heart raced as Lana's voice crackled through the phone once more. "Listen to me, both of you," Lana said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I need you to stay calm and listen carefully. Keep the line open and put it on speakerphone so I can hear everything."

"Okay... okay..." she whispered to herself, her voice a mere murmur of reassurance amidst the chaos. With a gentle touch, she rubbed Billy's shoulder, offering him what comfort she could, prioritising his well-being over her own rising fear.

He swallowed his breath, attempting to keep it in his chest as he looked over at her with glassy, blue eyes, realising he had not only put himself in danger, but both of them. She saw the guilt and dread fall in his gaze.

"Right, we're gonna go to Cranstead Fields, Billy, you know it, yeah?" Lana's voice echoed through the car, her words a lifeline in the darkness of their situation.

“Yeah…I know it,” his voice was resigned, his fingers finding the steering wheel with anxiety.

“I’ll meet you there, it’s gonna be okay.”

But despite Lana's constant encouragement, she could sense the distrust emanating from Billy with each passing moment. Doubt clouded his features, scepticism shadowing his every move. He didn't believe her.

He didn't believe her.

What almost scared her more was Billy’s erratic driving, taking corners too quick and being generally careless. His crumbling belief he’d make it out of this alive swallowed by dread.

“You’ve got to tell Mum and Dad I’m sorry, yeah?”

“Billy, tell them yourself, you’re gonna be fine!”

She pressed her legs together as if trying to curl herself into a ball of safety, hands braced on the seat, trying to calm the heavy beating of her heart.

Her eyes screwed shut at the exchange between Billy and Lana, whispering so quietly to herself for him to calm down and drive carefully.

Her eyes flew open and Billy leaned over though as something within the glovebox beeped. A light illuminated several numbers on the screen, showing all 0s, before settling and counting down with a harrowing beep from 08:00.

“Shit…”

“What’s happened?”

“There’s a timer, Lana…it’s a fucking timer.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sanity slipped with every second. And she's ashamed to admit she jumped when Billy punched the steering wheel.

“Shit! Shit! Fuck!”

“Listen, Billy, I'm gonna help you, but you need to focus, okay? You just need to concentrate on getting to the park. When you get there, drive straight onto the field, you'll be fine. I promise.”

She exhaled shakily, wanting desperately to believe Lana on the other end, but gripping the passenger seat so hard her fingernails were digging into the material, and Billy's reddened and panicked face made it all the more difficult.

And as if it couldn't get worse.

“Fucking hell, my battery's gonna die,” Billy uttered in a tremor, watching as his phone went black screen just as Lana was about to say something.

Billy breathed through his nose loudly, chest moving with laboured breaths, he whispered, “come on, please, say something, talk to me, please.”

He begged like a mantra.

And though she couldn't trust her voice to sound at all comforting, she tried anyway, “we’ll be fine…Lana knows what she's doing, okay…she'll know what to do…”

Billy must have heard the sheer terror in her voice, and as he glanced aside, the way the tears were just starting to glitter her cheeks, he reached over and squeezed the skin above her knee in an attempt to make her feel safe and grounded.

Her hand simply joined his, interweaving their fingers momentarily. Gripping to him like he was the last thing on earth she could feel.

She shifted in her seat as Billy took the corner into Cranstead Fields, tyres screeching as he drove out onto the green, parting a friendly football game as he beeped for them to move out the way. She spotted one single police car as he passed it and felt her heart clench.

Even when they came to a stop, she caught sight of them running angrily towards her in the side mirror and immediately used both hands and all her strength to pull the door towards herself.

“Get away from that car!”

The lads surrounded them, sweaty hands pawing at the windows with annoyed grunts. Billy quickly pushed his lock down, and she closed her eyes as one particular lad stopped at her window and attempted to pry the door open. It felt as if she were breathing so loudly that blood was coating her tongue.

Only when they ran off did a man in uniform stop at Billy's window, a man she didn't recognise but he must have.

“Billy, Billy look at me, it's Hass. Stay still, okay? We're gonna work around you.”

Fuck. He spoke as if he had no clue what to do.

Lana's car grew in the distance, and she breathed partly in relief as Hass moved away towards her.

“Hass, I'm fucking losing it-” Billy started.

She shifted aside and reached out to hold his arms, “Billy…Billy, look at me,” she had to hold his face for him to finally hear her, “just you and me…it's alright…”

He shook his head, “I-I'm so fucking sorry, I-”

“Stop. Just breathe, okay…it's just you and me…”

She was almost shocked by her own words. Inside, she felt as if she were already dying and gasping for air. Only finding oxygen when Billy's eyes softened only slightly and he nodded, leaning his tacky cheek into her hand.

She blinked when Lana's dishevelled head popped around Billy's window.

Lana forced a smile, “I'm here. It's me. It's gonna be fine. Just stay really still, I'm gonna have a look around the car. Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

Lana side-stepped wearily around it, and something changed in her gaze when she did, as if slipping right into work-mode before their very eyes. Her hand was still resting on Billy’s shaking forearm, while he leaned over her side with a mortifying sense of curiosity and foreboding, checking the numbers tick down on the display.

Lana didn’t say a word as she zoned in on the passenger window.

“How bad is it?” Billy asked, as if in desperate need of some good news.

If there was one thing about Lana she knew, it was that she was fucking horrendous at lying, “it’s fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, man, how bad is it?!”

If it were any other situation, she would have laughed at them both. And the brief glimpse into what would have been their normal sibling banter did make the battering of her heart slow somewhat.

She could tell by the rising intensity of Billy's voice and the way he couldn’t relax that he was slowly losing it without the comforting words of his sister. And it did nothing for her nerves either when she watched Lana disappear to the police car in the distance and she noticed with a shrill freeze of her heart, a sniper aimed towards the car, in case either of them made a move to escape.

For Billy’s sake, she didn’t say a thing. And she felt more and more powerless the more Billy’s eyes watered, face reddenned in primal fear, “Lana, fucking get me out the car!”

His sister’s expression was stern, constantly fighting a battle between having to be professional and calm for work and yet comforting and loving as a sister to her little brother who gripped the steering wheel tight, and stared at her, wanting nothing more than to open the dreaded door into false freedom.

“Listen to me! Look at me! The timer means nothing. They’ve put it there as a trick so you open the door! Can you hear me! Don’t touch it! Stay still! Listen to me, I’m your sister.”

Billy had long checked out of reason. He just began to plead ceaselessly. Lana’s constant reassurance that she was his sister didn’t seem to mean a whole lot to him at this moment.

“Just trust me”, Lana begged wearily.

She shook her head. He doesn’t.

Even with those words, she saw the way Billy pleased ‘please, please’ as a means of self-soothing, unable to help himself from glancing over at the dreaded glovebox. She felt his control fading quickly.

Beeeeeeeeeep.

Both of them froze, watching the timer disappear off the screen.

“Lana?” Billy called pitifully.

Vomit rolled in her gut when after a few moments, the timer beeped once more back to life, tauntingly counting down from 30.

“Lana, do something!”

She’s too far away, she can’t hear us. She thought.

Billy’s palm smashed against the steering wheel in both grief and desperation, “Lana!”

“Billy, look at me,” she pleaded quietly at first.

Time slowed into a slow drag as Billy’s body turned his body, fiddling with shaky fingers to the lock at the corner of the window. Both dread and panic rolled in her, glancing at the sniper primed to discharge, and felt the hasty need to save Billy from himself, as she had done before.

“Suspect is unlocking door. I repeat, sus-”

“Billy!”

Had it been different, she would have apologised for the way her nails dug into his flesh as she wrenched him away. And at first, it scared her how much he flailed and fought to escape her, until she took his cheeks in her palms and forced him to look at her.

“For fucks sake, Billy, look at me!”

His blue eyes were wide and glassy, red rimmed with tears, rosy lips parted to suck oxygen into his lungs, hands wrapped around her forearms so, so tightly. The beep of the timer only seemed to taunt them, with the reminder of how little time they had left.

And she thought with some ache in her chest, that if these were indeed her last few seconds, she would be fine with that, looking into Billy Washington’s desperate eyes as they flitted over her face. She hadn’t realised that the tears had quickly made their way down her own, emotions and panic pushing the control from her.

Time was slipping away, their fate hanging by a thread, and she could feel it unravelling beneath her fingertips.

She shook her head, eyes fluttering, “u-um…think of a nice memory, come on-”

He tightened his grip, blinking a few times, “O-okay…y-your first day of school.”

Despite everything, a smile threatened to break across her face.

“Okay…okay…” she nodded, “do you remember how you were there for me then?”

He nods, “yeah, I do-”

“Now let me be here for you…okay?”

All Billy could do was nod to her, and she took the brief opportunity his eyes were closed to steal a glance at the sniper, now relaxed, seeing through his viewfinder that there was no longer immediate danger. The man she remembered was named Hass was trying his best to hold Lana back, waiting for the inevitable.

For either the timer to go off, and the car would be filled with flame and heat. Or nothing.

She sniffled, “you remember? I was covered in mud…I still remember you blushing going into the girl’s toilets.”

He sobbed loudly, shaking, head bowed against her chest, his whole body covered in perspiration with stress.

“Mum fucking bollocked me for that you know,” she adds with a watery laugh.

He rested his head against her chest, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his cheek. His hands encircled her waist, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline, and she reciprocated, clutching him tightly, her fingers tangling in his damp, tousled hair.

“It’s always been us, right? It always will be,” he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion.

“Always,” she affirmed softly, her own voice trembling with unshed tears.

“You're everything,” he confessed, his words choked with emotion, the impending threat of their demise hanging heavily in the air.

Their embrace tightened, the outside world fading into oblivion as they held onto each other, finding solace in the precious moments they had left together.

The timer continued its relentless countdown, each passing second felt like an eternity. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion. The tension in the car was palpable, suffocating them both as they braced themselves for the worst.

But as the timer reached zero, there was only silence. No deafening blast, no fiery explosion. Just the sound of their ragged breaths filling the air, mingling with the faint hum of the engine.

Confusion washed over them, disbelief etched into their expressions as they exchanged bewildered glances. Had they miscalculated? Was this some twisted twist of fate?

The bomb hadn't gone off.

They were still alive.

She turned to Billy, her heart pounding in her chest, and found him gazing at her with a mixture of disbelief and relief mirrored in his eyes.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips pressing urgently against hers in a desperate kiss. It was a frantic, desperate attempt to grasp onto life, to affirm their existence in the face of imminent death. Every touch, every caress, was a silent plea for more time, a fervent prayer that they had not cheated death in vain.

The lingering danger remained, tucked into the glovebox as they broke free from the kiss, trying to paw back control between themselves.

For a brief moment, Billy thought, what if she hadn’t been here?

He jumped when EXPO began to surround the car, but didn't break free from her. They stayed like that for long, long moments, not wanting to part from this delicate balance.

She couldn't really even pay attention to what they were saying. It was all meaningless jargon to both of them. All they knew was that they took were clinging to the hope that two people would not die today, it wouldn't be them.

Lana murmured to Hass, “extract Billy first through the rear window, he's the most unstable-”

“No! Get her out first!” Billy protested.

“Billy, calm down, we'll get you both out, okay?” Lana replied calmly, her tone trying to diffuse the situation. Her hand gripped Billy's tighter as he argued.

“Fuck no-”

“Billy,” she whispered, tracing his knuckles with her thumb, “it's okay, I'll be right behind you, okay?”

She thought, she wasn't doing a very good job getting the shake out of her voice. But she implored him all the same to just do what she asked of him. He would be safe…

The EXPO team managed to pry the rear window without shattering the glass, and as it thunked to the floor, cooling air pooled in, making the sweat sticking to her clothes feel chilly.

“Alright, Billy, very slowly, put your seat back as far as it will go-that’s it-so it's nice and flat-” Hass instructed calmly, and she watched him with bated breath, “now slowly, if you can, climb over towards us…”

Billy licked his lips, pulling every strength he thought he had deep inside. His legs felt heavy. Body wracked with stress. And every step he took, he felt as if he was on the precipice of passing out.

Hass and a uniformed officer were the ones who pulled him free. And as soon as she saw Billy disappear out the rear window to safety, she felt that sinking feeling of loneliness once again settle in her chest.

She could even hear Billy's protest, fighting against the police officers trying to push him towards the ambulance, “I'm not going anywhere until she's out- get her out!”

She swallowed thickly and blinked quickly, trying to steady the quivering of her hands in mid air. Her eyes kept being pulled to the tightly wrapped package in the glovebox in front of her. Voices fading into nothingness.

Hass knocked on her window, and she jumped in her spot.

“Okay now, I need you to really slowly, like Billy just did, tilt your seat back.”

She nodded but it was merely out of sheer instinct. The words were scrambled.

Her legs felt like jelly as she slowly pushed the seat back, her airways feeling constricted from the force of her tears. Turning her body she gripped the headrest and rested her knees on the seat, trying her hardest to breathe deeply.

“Come on, it's alright, you're totally safe,” Hass soothed from the view out the rear window. Billy was not far behind, beside Lana, watching with a face of worry and bloomed by the harsh sun.

One leg stretched forwards, with arms on each headrest, seeing freedom, her movements were too quick, and her foot slipped between the seat and the gearstick. She tugged a few times, frustration and panic only exacerbating her grief at the last hour.

“Come on, you're doing so well, baby,” Billy's soft, airy voice was closer. She saw his face with blurry vision out the rear window, his figure bathed in warmth and light.

His hand outstretched. But she couldn't reach it. She was frozen in limbo between the swallowing darkness of the bomb behind her, and the open and safe closeness of her dear friend, and the man she loved.

Years of adorning that mask of self reliance, of building the walls high around her heart seemed to melt off of her. And when she saw Billy's face looking at her through the rear windscreen, she thought that she simply wanted to be the little girl in the green coat, even if it was just for one last time.

She nearly sobbed when Billy crawled back into the car, blatantly ignoring the protests behind him, she felt his hands around her waist and ribs, to pull her gently free.

Her arms hugged him frantically, the fresh grass and the familiar Billy scent enveloped around her. His form swamped her, his breath kissing at her neck where his head was buried in her shoulder as he lowered them to the ground.

Over his shoulder, through the clarity after her tears, she glanced at the spot where so many times Billy had done just this.

Comforted her. Kissed her. Loved her.

“You're everything to me,” he whispered lovingly. Her eyes fluttered shut at his words, a soft whimper muffled by his shoulder as she buried herself in him.

“Billy…”

Not even the urgent commands from first responders could tear them apart, their grip on each other only growing tighter as they were ushered away from the car.

And when the controlled explosion echoed through Cranstead Fields, sending shockwaves through the air and coating the grass in a blanket of blackened debris, they remained steadfast in their bond, their love burning brighter than the flames that engulfed Billy's car.

Even as the flashing lights illuminated the darkness, and the blaring sirens pierced the silence, they held onto each other, their hearts beating as one against the chaos that threatened to tear them apart.

Billy's eyes scanned the chaos, desperately seeking her familiar face amidst the flurry of activity. But she was already being ushered away, swallowed by the darkness of another ambulance, her figure growing smaller with each passing second.

With Lana's comically small stature pushing Billy gently, he saw through the sea of heads and mischief, her eyes, bright and glimmering with tears as he had always known her.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

#billy washington x oc #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x reader #billy washington #trigger point series #trigger point itv #trigger point fanfic #trigger point billy washington #billy washington smut #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington angst #billy washington fic #billy washington x fem!reader #billy washington x female #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

Text

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter one

well it's love, make it hurt series

one: sharpen your teeth, sink into me

series masterlist | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: You touch yourself when the Mandalorian is away, and he punishes you for the first time.

Warnings: BDSM, d/s dynamics, dom!Din Djarin and sub!reader, soft dom!Din, masturbation (f), anal sex, pussy spanking, crying, dacryphilia, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 10: Anal/Crying. Inspired by @absurdthirst’s Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on aO3

3 ABY, Summer

You were a little feral. Alone for a very long time, gnawing and clawing for survival. An effective hunter, lethal and quiet, but wound so tight. Always coiled and waiting to run. Not bound or beholden to anything.

He, however, had been beholden to the Creed for as long as he could remember. All the choices he made were in service of his people. He wouldn’t change that, didn’t harbor negative feelings—but it made a particular flavor of power intoxicating. Hunting was an essential part of his life, but also, when he flexed an upper hand and manipulated the situation to his favor? Well, that was everything.

So the way you just… fell together? It made sense.

One day, when he had you pinned against the wall of the Crest, three fingers deep in your pussy, he tilted his head to the side to study you and said, “I’d like to try something.” You were up for almost anything, and so, he had cuffed you and teased you, used you, watched you realize you had nothing, that you had to beg and plead, and—

Well. It was hard to explain. Something had come undone inside you that day, like he had cracked open your ribcage and taken out the rabid mynock that beat against your chest all the time.

It had only escalated from there.

Needless to say, your sex life was leagues better than it had been on Cantonica, you made about 20% more with the bounties you could take now, and best of all—you finally got to see some of the galaxy. Even if most of the planets were seedy at best.

The one thing you missed, though, was some fucking alone time. Mando was always there. And the Crest was not private. You got about five minutes to yourself in the fresher, but otherwise, he could just pop up any time.

And he did.

Silently.

It was unsettling, actually.

So when you landed on Sullust, a planet you had very little interest in exploring after the first five minutes, you skipped the market trip. You didn’t need anything, and Mando was looking for some part for one of the many systems in the Crest held up by hope and frantic welding during an emergency. With more money coming in, he could afford to fix things before they broke (again).

With Mando gone, you sprawl out on your bed and pull out your datapad. You had started a book, months ago, but hadn’t had a chance to continue. Not because you didn’t get time to read, but because Mando had a terrible habit of appearing over your shoulder, and you didn’t want him to see you reading a romance. It would hurt your reputation.

And also, it was mostly sex.

It wasn’t like you meant to break a rule. It was so new and the habit so old that slipping your hand into your leggings and leisurely stroking your clit was automatic. A muscle memory. It had been, for a time, one of your only physical comforts after long days and nights on the hunt.

Far sooner than you expected, the ramp opens with a hiss. You rip your hand out of your pants, breathing ragged and face flushed. You shove the datapad into the crack between your bed-crates and the wall.

How the hell was he done that fast? Oh, kriff, did it smell like pussy in here? Why were you worrying that the man who was fucking you on a near-daily basis would know you had touched yourself?

That’s when you remember the rules.

Fuck.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks as he enters, noting your messy hair and rumpled blanket.

“Um, no, it’s fine,” you say.

He sets down the hunk of metal and a handful of wires—oh, you should really learn more about ship maintenance if you’re ever going to own one, you think, trying to puzzle out their purpose.

You may have been distracted by the parts, but he was distracted by you. The flush spreading down your neck. The faint sheen of sweat on your brow and between your breasts, the soft, utilitarian tanktop doing nothing to conceal them.

“What did you do while I was gone?” he asks.

Oh fuck, he knows. He absolutely knows. You look down, away, anywhere but his intense stare.

“Cyar’ika, I expect an answer when I speak to you.”

“I—nothing?”

He puts his hands on his hips. “You want to try that again?”

Getting trampled by a Bantha would be preferable to admitting you were afraid. Maybe nervous was a better word. You're sure he wouldn’t really hurt you. But when you had agreed to this—enthusiastically—you hadn’t asked what happened if you didn’t follow the rules.

There weren’t many, and they were purposefully vague. Not in a way that would trap you into misbehavior but allowed for flexibility. Be respectful. Follow orders. And no pleasure without permission. That was his to enjoy, he explained.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot what?”

“I forgot, you know. Um. I forgot I couldn’t…” Maker, was he really going to make you say it?

He sighs. You were so, so new to this, and while so eager to please, he could see you looking for an exit. An escape.

Should he soothe you? Gift you platitudes and reassurances? Grant you a one-time pass? No, it was too soon. You wouldn't be able to trust him to take care of you if he didn't enforce the rules.

Or should he prey on you, taunt you, and make you beg his forgiveness?

No. As much as he wanted to, no. That would have to be for later, when you had let go of your pride and defensiveness, when you stopped suspecting his attentions were a cruel prank.

“Stand up and bend over the bed,” he says, crossing the room to approach you.

For a second, you hesitate.

He holds a breath, letting you choose what happens next.

You work your jaw from side to side and then grit your teeth, something sharp taking over your eyes. You hop off the bed and bend over it, balling your fists in the sheet.

Relief spreads, tickling goosebumps down his arms. “Good girl,” he murmurs, setting a hand on the small of your back. “You were about to tell me what you did?”

“I touched myself. I forgot about the rules.” You were talking into the mattress.

“Where’d you touch yourself, pretty girl?” he asks, stroking your hair.

You squirm. You don’t want to say it. You aren’t a prude, but the weight of his focus makes you feel raw.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to assume it was everywhere.”

“No! No, I promise. It was just my pussy, I promise.”

He hums, continuing to pet you while he thinks. “I’m going to give you a few choices. First, obviously, is that you can use your safeword, and nothing happens other than a discussion of what you do and don’t want. Second: it’s late and you’re tired. We can pause this and handle it after we get the bounty. But I won’t fuck you until then, either.”

You whine a little, and he shakes his head.

“Or the third option: I punish you now and fuck you after.”

“That one,” you say after a minute of real consideration. You are a little scared, but the idea of waiting, possibly days, to find out what would happen made you feel a little sick.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles. “Spread your legs more, baby.”

“Oh, fuck,” you moan into the sheet, sliding your feet apart so he had full access.

One hand still resting above your ass, he brings the other up to cup your mound through your thin, damp leggings. “Why do you need to be punished?”

A whimper. “Because I was bad.”

“Need you to be a little more specific than that.”

You take a deep, trembling breath.

He fights the instinct to demand an answer, a sudden jolt of excitement as your brow furrows. It's been a long time since he met someone who really wanted to do this, truly wanted to submit and not just have rough sex, who wouldn’t just say what they thought he wanted to hear so they could get to the “fun” part.

“I took what was yours,” you say softly after a minute. “I disrespected you by only thinking of myself.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” swept from him on an exhale.

Later, he would recognize the way it hurt for a minute, the way the rush of affection seemed to tighten around his lungs rather than his cock.

For now, he rubs his hand on your back. “I think,” he say slowly, “that since you gave yourself pleasure, I have to take it away.”

“Okay.” You feel like you're shrinking, like your body is folding in. His hands, despite the gloves, burn through your clothes where they molded to your curves. Every contact point between you is alight.

“Ever had your pussy spanked?” he says.

You had suspected that was his intention, but the blunt question has you sucking in a sharp breath. “No, sir.”

“Okay. Then you don’t need to count this time. Just take it.”

Before you can reply, he pulls his hand back from your cunt and brings it down.

“Fuck,” you bite out, momentum lurching you forward, the edge of the crate biting into your stomach.

He gives you a moment, watching as your face contorts. It certainly wasn’t a hard hit, but he hadn’t gone easy on you, either. Couldn’t. Your first punishment had to be memorable.

“Do you need to use your word, cyar’ika?”

“No,” you huff through gritted teeth.

So he hits you again.

You had tried to brace yourself, but it stings, and you yelp.

This time, he doesn’t wait. He smacks you hard, back-to-back, with no reprieve.

You squirm and writhe to get away, but his hand on your back keeps you pinned. It's only ten, but you're shaking when he finishes.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he said, guiding you to standing with a hand on your shoulder, pulling you into him. You cling onto him, fingers clutching the top of his chest plate, arms pinned between your bodies, and face buried in his cowl.

“Are you crying?” It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because what were quiet tears turn into full sobs. “Hey, shh, it’s okay. You did so well, cyar’ika.”

“I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.” He holds you tight and lets you cry it out until you quiet, sniffling a little. “Feel better?”

You nod. And then you shake your head, and his stomach drops.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t even get punished without—without—”

He doesn’t mean to, but he laughs.

You reel back as far as his arms let you.

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just should have realized sooner. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know. It hurt a lot.” You don’t look at him, shame twisting your lips into a scowl. Your streaked, raw cheeks and watery eyes make his dick throb. “It just—I had to try so hard not to cum.”

The Mandalorian’s self control is as strained as his cock. “I’m not mad, sweetheart. Fuck, that’s good to know. Would it make you feel better if I told you that was only half your punishment?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide, and tears threatening to spill. “Oh.”

“I said I’d fuck you. But I don’t think your greedy little cunt deserves any more pleasure today, do you?”

“No, sir.”

He wonders if you’d hate him if you saw the way he smirked behind the helmet. The way he wanted to grin, wild and teeth bared, and pick you apart just so he could put you back together.

He thinks you’d probably like it.

“You took that so well, sweetheart, I’ll tell you what. You can choose. You want me here…” he brushes a finger across your lips, which part sweetly for him. The tip of your tongue peeks out to greet his glove, and he does grin, then.

“... or do you want me here?” he slides his hand down your back and over the crest of your butt.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.

“What’ll it be?”

You take a shuddering breath, another tear falling as you squeeze your eyes tight. “I want whatever will please you most.”

He shakes his head, something fond and soft clawing at his ribcage. “That’s sweet, but if that’s what I wanted from you, I wouldn't have asked. I want you to choose.”

“Okay. Then the second one.”

“Then what? Ask nicely.”

A whimpered moan escapes you. You mumble something.

“Gotta speak up, cyar’ika, or I’ll think you don’t want to be fucked at all.”

“No!” you squeak. “No, please. Um. Please—” Your right leg jitters a little as you chew on the words before spitting them out. “Please fuck my ass, sir.”

“Of course,” he strokes your cheek. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shake your head and let him turn you back around, pushing down between your shoulder blades until you’re bent flat across the bed.

“Anyone had you here before?” he says as he rolls your leggings down to discover you aren’t wearing any fucking underwear. He helps you step out of them.

“No,” you say, arching a little as he rubs a gloved hand up and down your leg, stopping just below your cheeks.

“You sure you want me to?” He pauses his caresses, weighing his restraint. He’ll have to go slow. Maybe he should just fuck your mouth, where he can take as much as he needs from you.

But then you speak. “Yes, please, sir. I want it to be you.”

He has to ball his hands into fists and release a few times, trying to stay rational and not just give you what you’re so sweetly begging for.

“It doesn’t have to be now. We can wait, and I can make it better for you, when you’re not being punished.”

You turne your head to the side against the mattress, and he can see your bottom lip trembling.

He sighs. “Just tell me first: are you trying to punish yourself more?”

“No, I want it. Please. I’ve wanted it for months. I—please.”

“Okay, cyar’ika. You tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“Yes, sir.”

You hold very still as he peels off his gloves. You won’t be able to see, and there's no way he was doing this with the gloves. Not this time, not with the gift you’re giving him.

When his warm hand rubs over your ass, you gasp. He draws away reluctantly to pour a generous amount of lube into his palm, warming it carefully before coating his fingers.

He sinks to his knees. With your legs spread, he brushes a finger over your hole, watching the way it twitches and basking in your quiet moan. He rubs soft circles, working the lube around before gently pressing in. The first finger goes in so slowly, and you keen low, muffled by the sheet. Your thighs shake with the effort of holding still.

“Good girl,” he croons, withdrawing his finger to add a second. He repeats the slow, cautious process, pressing in and out. “Breathe, cyar’ika. Relax.”

Relax? How did he expect you to relax? The sensations were so intense you thought you might shatter.

When he finally adds a third, you cry out. His fingers are so thick, and you are so, so full. You startto doubt you’ll be able to take him.

But Mando is a patient man, even with his cock angry and leaking. He doesn’t stop until he's sure you're ready. When he withdraws his fingers from you and stands up, you whimper.

“Scared?”

“A little,” you tell the sheet.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika. You’re doing so well for me. Still want to make me feel good?”

He waits until the first “please” before notching himself at your entrance and pushing the very tip in. Anything else you had been trying to say is choked off.

He had prepared you well, but you were still hot and tight enough that he almost loses his composure. Almost shoves hard into you until his hips slam against yours. But instead, he grips them, sure to leave bruises behind.

You hold your breath. The burn is agonizing, but the wait is worse. When he's settled fully in you, he holds himself in place while you squirm.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper. It was the only thought left in your brain other than “Mando” and “full.”

Despite his iron grip, his hips jerk a little. When he speaks, it's around a clenched jaw. “Can I—fuck—can I move?”

“Uh-huh.”

He pulls back, a loud groan in time with the tug of his cock. His hips jerk forward immediately, seeking your soft warmth.

“More,” you grunt through a thrust. “Please, sir.”

That was the end of him. Or at least of the calm, collected Mando. Your sweet voice begging snaps something cerebral, and he snarls, pulling out just to slam back in. He sets a rough, rushed pace.

With one hand on your hip and the other pushing down on your lower back, he takes. He takes and takes until you don’t have anything to give, your hands desperately clutching the edge of the crate just to stay where he had placed you.

Each thrust leaves you raw somewhere behind your sternum. You're crying again, hot tears running sideways across your face to the sheet, scrunched and already soaked with spit.

“You can cum if you can do it like this,” he says between pants. “Don’t touch your clit.”

You couldn’t reach even if you dared to, only able to hold on and accept him. To be used and cared for.

You know you won't be able to. It feels good, but the pain is just on the wrong side of sharp. You don’t want him to stop, you might die if he did, but it wasn’t going to happen like this. It was kind of him, anyway.

And there was something pleasant about just existing there for him to fill. It made you dizzy to think about.

“Want it inside, sweetheart?”

You nod desperately, the rough linen scratching at your raw cheeks.

It only takes a few more thrusts until he grinds his hips against you, pushing as deep as he can, crooning praise.

“So good, cyar’ika, perfect fucking girl. Taking me so well, letting me have this. Fuck,” he whimpers as he begins twitching inside you, wet ropes of cum flooding you and leaking out around his cock.

He eases out carefully, scooping you up before sliding to the ground against the crates.

“Hey,” he murmurs, helmet resting gently on top of your head. “Are you okay?”

You tremble but nod against his chestplate. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“All is forgiven, sweet girl. I promise. You took your punishment so well.” He holds you tight and refuses to acknowledge the ferocity gnashing its teeth in his chest. Something that felt dangerously like devotion.

*title from "Sink Into Me" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #kinktober 2023 #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fic #din djarin smut #make it hurt verse

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joelslegalwhre · 11 months

Note

Hey

This is my request

Yn is a driver of red bull and its the last race and max verstappen is her boyfriend ( max is not a driver ) and she wins her first worldchampionship with alot of fluff thanks

i love the idea! Be ready for a ton of fluff, i have no self control-

Sorry this took me so long… I had my final exams and was busy crying and being anxious, BUT I‘M DONE NOW whoo, your girl finally has her Abi now😭

pairing // max verstappen x driver!fem!reader

summary // You win your first world championship and Max had already planned everything out for when you get out of your car

warnings // max is not a driver, he‘s living the wag life lmao, just a shit ton of fluff and lovesick max, you‘re the first woman in f1 (did i miss something?)

word count // 2k

Masterlist // taglist // 🥤my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip🩷

World Champion

Your car literally flew across the finish line as your team clung to the fence to the track, cheering.

You couldn't help but let out a cry of joy. You had done it, you had actually won the race.

That might not be unusual anymore, because winning races was almost a habit.

But today was different, the screams of the fans cheering you on from the stands echoed in your ears. You put your hand out of the cockpit and waved back at them, smiling and completely overwhelmed by the situation.

World champion. You were a world champion now.

The mere fact that you were the first and only woman in Formula One had made a lot of headlines. Right from the start, you felt much more pressure than the others seemed to. And you had shown all the reporters and all the doubters who had made so many comments, good or bad, how you were able to assert yourself in this male domain.

You parked your car according to the rules and not even a second later you were running towards the waiting crowd that was your team, jumping into their arms. The fence separating the people from the drivers was rocking dangerously as you jumped into their arms, almost knocking it over completely. But you were so full of joy that you hardly noticed. The love and joy your team gave you at that moment overwhelmed you. Everyone laughed, whistled and cheered, and you too had to squeal under your helmet. All of this was so absolutely unreal, it was as if you were about to wake up from a dream. A dream that was too good to be true.

But that's exactly what it was, true. This was really happening.

When your mechanics, the pit crew and whoever else was standing with them, put you back down on the ground, your eyes fell on Max. He was standing right up front, next to your mechanics, beaming at you.

As quickly as you could, you took off your helmet and your balaclava. Someone took the helmet and balaclava from your hands, much to your silent gratitude. Your feet carried you to your boyfriend in seconds.

"Congratulations, champion." He couldn't say much more before you wrapped your arms around his neck and silenced him with your lips.

You didn't care who was watching now, this moment belonged only to the two of you. Max gently parted from your lips and leaned his forehead against yours. "You can't imagine how proud I am of you." he whispered, his nose lightly brushing yours. "I love you." you whispered back.

"I love you more, champ." You giggled in response to the new nickname he seemed to have chosen for you now. You didn't mind, quite the opposite, it was a reminder of what had just happened. His breath brushed your lips as he let out a laugh. "I think you need to get back to your job now." Max grinned, still so close to your lips. You pouted and looked into his eyes, "Don't run away, okay?" you joked. "I'm not." He laughed back and gave you one last peck on the lips.

You turned around and thanked the person who had held your helmet for you.

Then you rushed to the other drivers and went through the whole procedure with the weighing and all the other usual steps. The drivers were congratulating you with hugs and brotherly pats on the back.

All the time the cheering of the fans and your team in the background.

The hymns were played and you still couldn't quite believe it. This wasn't just a normal race, it wasn't just the end of the season - which meant you finally had time to genuinely relax - no, it was the day you could talk about for decades to come, the day people would talk about for years and years. The day you made it.

Your anthem played, and as the rhythmic notes rang out, you had to hold back tears. It was emotional, to say the least. But the bright smile on your face outweighed the tears. And so you stood up there, along with Charles and Lewis, and let the sun, still pleasantly warm, brush your face. In your ears now the national anthem of your team.

After receiving numerous congratulations along the way, the garage was finally in sight. "Do you know where everyone is?" you asked your PR manager, who had accompanied you here from the podium, slightly confused. Nobody from the team was outside anymore, and you drew the conclusion that they all had to be in the garage. "They're already inside." she confirmed, grinning at you. Just as you had thought, then. You gave an understandable nod and circled the stack of tires stored diagonally in front of the garage.

Your mouth probably dropped to the floor when you saw your team, Christian and Max in front, together with Helmut, standing in front of you. You were quick to close your lips again, a wide smile dominating.

"What-" it was nothing more than a stutter, you were too overwhelmed with the situation.

"Congratulations!" everyone shouted at the same time, like a birthday surprise. That's when you noticed the shirts they were all wearing. Every member of the team was wearing the same one, and it showed you standing big in the middle, with the words "World Champion" at the top and the year at the bottom. It was one of the pictures from Spain earlier this year, when you had taken first place and had both hands in the air, clenched into fists, in victory.

"We have one for you, too." Christian grinned at you, and gave you an identical shirt to the one he was wearing.

"Thank you." your voice was barely above a whisper, the emotion too strong. Tears were collecting in your eyelashes, and it became hard to see.

You felt two strong arms close around your body, and in the next moment you were surrounded by Max's familiar scent. "Congratulations, baby." he whispered in your ear. He must have told you a dozen times since you left your car, but he just couldn't help himself. Your big dream has finally come true. All those days of hard training had paid off, and he couldn't be prouder of you.

You snuck your nose in the crook of his neck and pressed yourself closer to him once more, before braking away from the embrace.

"Thank you." you now said, addressing your team. "Thank you to each and every one of you. I know so many have said that before me, but it's true, I couldn't have done this without you guys today." you turned to your pit crew with a grin, "You guys have the absolute fastest reflexes I've ever seen. How do you do that?" The men laughed and tipped their imaginary hats, "Is and always will be an honor, Ms. World Champion." one of them joked, making you giggle.

When the hectic and excitement of the past few hours had passed, you could finally go back to your driver's room with Max to relax a little. Some privacy and quietness was something you were beyond grateful right now. All the fuss had worn you out and as much as you were filled with gratitude, your body also screamed at you to just lay down for a moment. After all, you just did a whole race in the heat of the bright midday sun. A cold shower was just about the best thing you could think of right now, but that had to wait for at least another two or three hours, maybe even more.

"Ugh, that feels amazing." you moaned as you fell onto the small couch in your room. You let out an exhausted breath and let your head fall back to rest on it. "I bet it does." Max laughed and sat down beside you, grabbing your ankles to lift your legs onto his lap. He started to massage your feet, and you felt like you just got sent to literal heaven. "Please, never stop." you let out another groan, which made Max chuckle. "Your wish is my command."

Your eyes wandered to his shirt, the same one you were still wearing. And after all the months of secret phone calls, always wondering what important things he had to do on these calls and why he left the room you were in when he did, it dawned on you, "Max," you asked, "Were you the one to get all these shirts?"

He smiled at you, still massaging your feet, „I did. Couldn't let my girl win her first championship and stand there empty-handed."

"Max," your voice cracked, "I- Thank you," you whispered, as you felt a single tear rolling down your cheek, "So much."

"Baby, don't cry." His thumb wiped the tear from your cheek, and you distinctly leaned into his touch. "Thank you so much." you whispered again. "You don't have to thank me for that, baby." a light smile played on his lips and he shifted slightly, bringing you to sit on his lap.

His hands caressed your thighs, and it sent a warm shiver through your body.

It felt good to rest in his arms and give your sore muscles a break.

You snuggled even closer to him. For a moment you just sat there, in his lap with his hands on your thighs and your arms around his middle. His hands ran up and down in a caressing and soothing gesture. The air in the room was pleasantly cool, thanks to the air conditioning.

Max's hands moved from your thighs to your back and gently moved up and down there too. He didn't push you to tell him everything that you were feeling right now, he just let you have your moment of silence. Later, when you would be back in your hotel room, there would be plenty of time to talk about everything that had happened.

"I love you." he whispered against your neck. You leaned back a little to look at him and smiled. "I love you too."

You cupped his face in your hands, the light stubble of his beard lightly scratching your skin and his scent enveloping you like a soft blanket.

You leaned forward and gently placed your lips on his. Max returned the kiss immediately and lightly nibbled your lower lip, which made you giggle and opened your lips a little. He took the opportunity to explore you with his tongue. The softness with which he kissed you elicited a sigh from you. It wasn’t a hectic or dirty kiss. Rather, it was full of love, affection and emotion. Max made you feel as if it was just the two of you and not a thousand other reporters, photographers and employees who were about to ask you a million questions. Which you were looking forward to, of course, but this moment was still too perfect to end.

Both of you separated your lips to catch your breath. Max immediately pulled your body close to his again and wrapped his arms around you.

"I think we need to get back out there," he whispered in your ear after a while. His breath tickled you a little and you giggled lightly. "Yeah, I think so."

You moved off his lap and ran a hand through your hair, which got a little tousled during your kiss. Max stood up and followed you to the door. "Off to battle." you quipped as you grabbed the handle. Max jokingly slapped your ass, and grinned, "Let's go, you world champion."

🩶taglist: @xcinnamongirl @topguncultleader @larastark3107 @sinfully-yoursss @alwaysclassyeagle @formulas-bitch @lunnnix @alexxavicry @love4lando @pjofics @Poppy4587 @cl16version @maximeverstappen @x-d1vine @ironmaiden1313

#max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #red bull racing #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1 #formula1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #fluff #requests #formula one

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slightlyunconventional · 3 months

Text

its 2am and op needs sleep (2.1k)

hi d/abihawks nation here is your food for the day (more to come in the foreseeable) aaand yeah. this is from an ask i got that i didn’t answer with this because it had three parts to it and i wanted to actually do all three ?? idk. anyway if youre the anon who asked for d/abi inducing with his piercings then this is for you :)

The fuck kind of time to wake up is this? Dabi thought, squinting at the digital alarm clock beside the bed. 4:16AM, it reads. Still dazed, he rolled over with a huff and got ready to go the fuck back to sleep - until it hit him.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” he hissed, as an itch that felt like wildfire crashed into his sinuses like a freight train, rendering him unable to form a coherent thought for a good few seconds. He sat up. The motion somehow made the burn triple in intensity. He scrunched up his nose forcefully, waiting for it to succumb, for the itch to peak, but it didn’t. It felt like it was taking over his entire face, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t back down, half-closing his eyes and forcing him to keep his nose held in a permanently-crinkled position. Dabi dared to rub at it, knuckles pushing back and forth rather aggressively, and instantly regretted what he’d done. The contact seemed to set alight a million different nerve endings, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck me,” Dabi managed to breathe out. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the whole way squinting against the inferno plaguing his nose. The burn was near unbearable now, like flames licking at the tender inner walls of his nostrils, yet still nothing came of it. Even switching on the horrendously bright bathroom light in Hawks’ apartment, which usually managed to tease a sneeze or two from him, had no effect. Christ, he just wanted to go back to sleep. Eyes narrowing further due to the harsh transition from dark to light, Dabi moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. With a deep breath in, he splashed the cold water on his face a few times, and gave his full face a rather aggressive scrub with both hands for good measure. He stood up to find it had done absolutely nothing, and now he just had a wet face. Awesome. Why, for the love of fuck, was this happening? he thought in frustration. Could it have picked a more inconvenient time?

He grabbed a towel and dried off his face, rubbing with particular force at his nose (though still keeping low expectations that it would actually make a damn difference). The itch burned with ferocity, but remained stagnant; Dabi just wished it would either do something or piss off. For a man who normally despised sneezing - everything about it, the feeling, the loss of control, the vulnerability of it all - he seemed pretty desperate to do it now. He was running out of options, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to go wake up Hawks and make him stick a feather up his nose. There was probably a box of tissues in here, somewhere, he was sure, judging by how awful Hawks’ allergies got in the spring… bingo. It didn’t take long to find, just a few moments of staring into the medicine cupboard with one hand knuckling absently at the side of his nose. The dark-haired man pulled a few from the box, irritated, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The ever-present itch had his nostrils practically pulsing with need, and a handful of tissues suddenly pushed up to his nose really didn’t help. Hell, it was almost stinging now, and it was torturous.

“Shit,” Dabi breathed, as he began to rub his nose in slow, deliberate circles through the tissues. The sensation was all-consuming - he became completely laser-focused on the way the itch prickled ever so slightly with his movements. It was like the light at the end of a tunnel. He just had to will it to rise in intensity, just enough to make him– “...h-hhuh!” His breath caught, even if only slightly. Fuck, he was close, so damn close. In his mind he was begging for it, for relief, and he daren’t even move, for fear of losing the– damn it. The sting backed down just as quickly as it had come about, forcing Dabi to let out the breath he was holding in a short, irritated sigh. He couldn’t just go back to bed, not while this itch was still wreaking havoc in his face. But, it wasn’t like he had many choices left. The only thing he knew that really set him off was cats, and he was fairly sure bathrooms didn’t come preinstalled with a litter of kittens. Stubborn as ever, he refused to just give up and go sleep again - but what could he really do? Sit and wait it out, hoping it would just go away? Or go back to trying to make himself- hold on. Dabi suddenly remembered the absolute mess he’d been when he first pierced his nose (in this very bathroom, as a matter of fact). The needle had hardly been halfway through the cartilage before his chest was stuttering with rapid hitching breaths that had very quickly turned into fits of desperately itchy (and bloody) sneezes, untameable to the point where he had no input in the, well, output. He’d simply had to sit and let them barrel through him in awful tickly waves. He didn’t know why he’d sat through three rounds of that just for a triple nose piercing. One would have been plenty.

Dabi pushed himself up from the edge of the bath, binned his tissues, and moved back to the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, running a tired hand over his face and sighing. His hand brushed lightly against the side of his nose, sending jolts up his sinuses, and he decided he couldn’t tolerate another second of such torment. The thought to pierce his nose again flitted briefly through Dabi’s mind, but was quickly dismissed. Imagine how that would go down. “Hey, you’ve got another piercing,” Hawks would say. “Oh, yeah, I had to sneeze really fucking badly last night so I did what any sane person would do - gave myself a fourth nose piercing!” Dabi rolled his eyes at the thought. He went for the next best thing - messing around with his current piercings to try and make something happen.

He leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror, well aware that he looked an absolute sight for sore eyes, red-rimmed nostrils and an oversized t-shirt hanging awkwardly around his frame proving an… interesting combination. Christ, what am I doing, he thought, as he took a silver stud between his fingers and began to twist it - and, hell, the effect was instantaneous. Immediately, the tickle reared its head, intensified tenfold from before, and all but consumed him. There was nothing he could do to stop his jaw from slackening, his eyes from fluttering shut, his nostrils from flaring to nearly twice their size– “Shit, shit, s-shiihh–!”

Breaths rising in his chest, pitchy and desperate, Dabi let out a string of curses and stumbled backward, almost losing his balance as the need to sneeze took over him such that he couldn’t possibly think about anything else. He braced a hand against the edge of the sink to keep upright, drew in an immense gasp, and pitched forward at the waist– “hh’hhahH’DDSHHhhew! Hohhh, God, fuck me…” The sneeze that followed was harsh, scraping, and instantly relieving. But Dabi soon found that he was nowhere near done, and snapped forward with a trio of back-to-back sneezes, equally intense as the first.

“huhH’HDJJSHHh! ‘gGKSHHh’uh! hah’DSHHh’iew!” He straightened up to try and catch his breath, but his nose tingled in a way which meant there was guaranteed to be more sneezing to come. He was about to cast his gaze up to the light fixture on the ceiling to try and coax it out prematurely, until he saw a glimpse of red in his peripheral vision - Hawks. Shit. How long had he been standing there? Dabi looked at him, unsure of what to say. The hero was sure to have a barrage of questions for him, he could already imagine it: Are you getting sick? Allergic to something? Oh my god–is it me? Did I use a new… something? I’m so sorry, are you okay? He was leaning on the doorframe in a loose-fitting shirt that Dabi had sacrificed (cut holes in the back of to accommodate Hawks’ wings) and wearing an expression that was a blend of sympathy and amusement. Dabi opened his mouth to speak.

“Bless you,” Hawks said, with a lopsided smile, before Dabi had the chance to say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t-to… wake you up,” he replied. Fuck, he still needed to sneeze.

Hawks exhaled a little laugh. “It’s okay. You were sneezing pretty damn loudly, it would have been hard not to.” He took a few steps forward and wrapped his hands around Dabi’s arm, absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles with his thumbs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, more of that sympathy now shining through. As predicted, questions. “Yeah, I– fuck, I-I, hhah– needtosneezeagaiihHGKSHHhew!” He sniffled, then used his free hand to rub his nose, hard. “No idea what it is, just… started.” At least it was partially true. He did have no idea what it was, but he wasn’t about to admit to Hawks that he’d actually been trying to make himself sneeze for the best part of half an hour. Hawks frowned. “Bless you,” he said again. “You aren’t sick? A cold, maybe?” There it was again. “No, dumbass, it’s May.” “Who says you can’t get colds when it’s not winter? I get colds when it’s not winter!” Hawks said indignantly. Dabi huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s you though. Your immune system’s shi-sh-hhahH’dDTSHHh’uh! Shit.” “Shut up,” Hawks said, swatting his arm. “Sounds pretty itchy.” Dabi pulled a face at that. “Sounds itchy? How can– how– Jesus, fuck, always when I’m trying to t-talk…” “Bless you-!” Hawks said prematurely, tipping his head to the side. “-hhHRRSHHHhew!” The smile on Hawks’ face widened. God, Dabi had thought this would just be one and done, but now he couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if he’d opened some metaphorical floodgates in his sinuses just by twisting his nose studs a bit, and released sneeze after terribly violent sneeze. It would be infinitely easier to deal with without his overly enthusiastic witness, that was for certain. He couldn’t say it wasn’t at least a little endearing, though, in some bizarre way. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze this much before,” observed Hawks, in such a tone that made the statement sound like it was some earth shattering discovery (It wasn’t. Dabi was eternally thankful that Hawks had never bore witness to the explosive fits he got when cats were part of the equation).

From behind the hand scrubbing at his still-burning nose, Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Right…?” he said slowly, “Is that supposed to h-hah–!” This was getting ridiculous. He pinched his nose tightly, brows furrowed and eyes nearly shut. Absolutely not. “There’s no point holding it in now that I’m awake, you know,” Hawks said, a mildly teasing tone creeping into his voice. “Just wanna get a full f-fucking… hhuh– sentence out-! hh’ehHDSZZHhew! h-hhH’RSCHhh’uh!” “Bless you, bless you,” Hawks moved closer towards Dabi, evidently starting to feel drowsy again after having been out of bed, judging by the way he rubbed lazily at his eyes with one hand. “What were you gonna say?” “What?” “Before you sneezed again. What were you gonna say?” Dabi averted his eyes. “I don’t remember.” Hawks snickered quietly. “S’okay… you gonna come back to bed? I’m getting cold,” he said, his head now resting on Dabi’s arm. “Not your personal heater,” was the response, punctuated with an irritated sniffle. Hawks shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Even so, I don’t think you’d really want, well…” Dabi gestured vaguely at his face. He didn’t particularly want to say it out loud. “I don’t mind,” the hero replied softly, “I just want you to get some sleep. Besides, the pink nose is a cute look on you.” He added the last part with a wink, and it earned him a rather affronted scoff and a flick to the forehead. “Fine, let me just–” Dabi pulled a couple of tissues from the box and blew his nose with some force. It seemed to shift something high in his sinuses, which of course triggered a sneeze. The floodgates really had opened. “hh’hehHDDSHHhiew! Jesus Christ, can’t catch a break…” Hawks hummed. “Bless you,” he mumbled again, before starting to lead Dabi out of the bathroom and back to their bed. He paused, however, halfway to the door, and turned around. With a nod towards the tissue box on the counter, he said, “You’d better bring those with you.”

#whhuuuhhhh i csnt br arsed for TAGGING #hope u like it guys #d/abihawks #d/abi #m/ha #snz #snzfic #snzblr #sneezefic #snzfucker #snzario

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allmyocsarebritish · 2 months

Text

A passion for exploration

(Known in my notes as ahkaeology)

Pairing: Ahkmenrah X reader

Warnings(?): Grave robbing

A/N: okay okay I know it's really odd that a wednesday blog is now posting for natm but I went down a rabbit hole and I'm afraid I lost the entrance. History nerd has shown through well and truly :')

Also my first multi part fic :D

Title is courtesy of my mate Abi using AI

Ch 1

Grave robbing

Was desecrating the tombs of these once honoured, omnipotent kings of Egypt really something you were willing to do? Had the circumstances preceding the grave robbery been less bleak, the answer would have undoubtedly been an definitive no. These rulers commanded the uptmost respect in life, and here you were, excavating the only memory that remained. There wasn't a day that went by during your expedition in which guilt did not infiltrate your mind, suffocating your conscience and depriving you of any sleep, even before you came close to finding an ancient tomb. But it wasn't like you had any other choice.

Pushing down your gnawing feelings of dread, you trekked on through the Egyptian desert. Rough sand brushed against your lower legs beneath your simple, calf-length skirt, chafing at the skin. You were the only one of the troupe resigned to walking, as the youngest and the lowest class. Astride camels, the two men had a better view of the surrounding plains, though the blank, barren flats stretched on long beyond the horizon.

"The valley of the kings shan't be too far from this place" called Lord Carnarvon, map still in hand.

You held back a scoff, rolling your eyes as you knew he wasn't looking at you. If only he would admit none of you knew where you were going. The only clue you were given was that the gold rich landmark was announced by a grand pyramid at the end of a hollowed valley consisting of a multitude of others. What a shame that this was the Egyptian desert.

Filled with pyramids.

Days and days stretched on of travel, and eventually, you stopped counting the sunrises, resigning to the fact that this would only stop when the valley was found, however long that took.

As with most great things, the discovery of the valley occurred at a time when you least expected. You had taken advantage of a small oasis, resting for a few hours and permitting the camels an indulgent drink. Howard Carter dozed beside you, hat pulled low over his face, in order to shield his resting eyes from the blazing fire of the sun. Carnarvon had taken his liberty and ran off, or so you had hoped. No, in fact he was continuing the investigation alone and on foot, clutching a worn, shoddy map, which was twinged a grimey brown with years of filth accumulated around the edges of the paper. He never strayed far, though attempted to work out his bearings, using the wind or some pretentious bullshit you never bothered listening to. No, you were perfectly content drawing in the sand with a stick you had found and claimed an hour or so prior.

You were more than unimpressed when the sketches you had so tediously etched into the sand were scattered by Carnarvon sprinting back to the small camp. Jolted awake, Carter sat up sharply, alarm etched across his features.

"Blimey, good sir! You gave me quite the fright!" He exclaimed as you nodded in agreement.

"Are you alright?" You asked, though your eyes may have given away your disinterest (had either man been paying an ounce of attention).

"Shh!" Carnarvon interrupted your pleasant concern, to which you rolled your eyes and began attempting to recover your drawings. "Carter, good sir! I dare say I've found it. I've discovered the pyramid!"

A bold statement, and not the first time either. No, twice prior you had been dragged into the colossal ancient skyscrapers, only to find they were far from your true destination. Empty of any treasure or historical worth beyond the buildings themselves, you continued on, fruitless. Grand structures were quite an obvious goldmine, and previous grave robbers had left the tombs void of, well, anything.

Though of course, it was more than worth it to explore this fresh discovery, not taking any chances.

Time was of the essence, or so you were told. Camels saddled up in record time, you were hoisted up from your seat on the floor by Carter, borderline dragged up.

"Come, young Y/N, you heard his lordship. We may have found the Valley. Hurry on, now" his words were gentle, still treating you as he had done in your childhood, despite the fact you were now 19. It was something that you both appreciated and hated simultaneously. Howard was kind to you, much more so than Lord Carnarvon, who cared as little for you as you did for him. The mutual disinterested made for some long, awkward silences, and many threats to leave you in an unknown grave.

Still dragging you by the arm, Carter began to untie his camel, before finally letting go of you. The rush was honestly needless, you had been expeditioning for months at the least, what harm would a few mere minutes cause? But the men were adamant, and there was no arguing, especially not from a useless child as yourself.

"Can I at least keep my stick?"

Recieving no reply from Carnarvon and an incredulous stare from Carter, you concluded the answer was yes.

The journey from the oasis to the pyramid was shorter than anticipated, though still rather long. Another day passed, spent entirely wandering through the desert. Exhaustion washed over your entire body, and it was a war every minute to keep your eyes open. But, alas, you must continue, and eventually your trek drew to a close as with further examination, it became clear this pyramid was not what you were searching for.

Disappointment and rage filled Carnarvon upon the realisation that this was, in fact, not the Valley of the Gates of the Kings, but rather a singular, sandy pyramid. "Why, there must be some mistake!" He complained impetuantly, always one to shift blame elsewhere. You exchanged a look with Carter, who for once was willing to admit the incompetence of the troupe's leader. After all, what were the chances that a random pyramid would mark the infamous, esteemed valley?

From a distance it appeared mighty, though in fact that was more than likely a mirage caused by the monochromatic nature if the desert. Upon further examination, however, the pyramid was far from the grandeur anticipated by Carnarvon and Carter. Huge gashes and rifts in the brickwork jumped out from metres away. Crumbling brickwork was cratered, resembling a sponge with many holes, as dusty gravel avalanched down the sides of the architecture at every other interval. Overall it was worn and aged, therefore more likely to be looted and barren.

"I do say it's worth taking a look around, my lord." You spoke, addressing him clearly. Carnarvon waved his hand dismissively, wishing you out of his presence.

"Yes, yes. Go ahead child." Did you expect that? No. Did you need to be told twice? Also no. A small grin gracing your features, you took off into the pyramid.

Racing across the gravely surface of the desert, the sand provided a slight level of resistance. Nevertheless, you persevered onwards, stride refusing to falter. Basking in the glorious heat of the warm Egyptian sun's rays casting down on your face, you closed your eyes as you ran, chin tilted upwards. Naturally, this obscured your vision, rendering you blind, and therefore leading you to miss the gaping hole in the ground.

A short squeala of surprise passed your lips as you suddenly found yourself unexpectedly falling through the earth. The drop was rather long, and you landed in a heap on the floor of the dugout with a large thud. You weren't aware of how long you were unconscious, but judging by the severe lack of any source of light, sunset had passed. Pain shot through your body, coarsing through your veins and ricocheting off each of your bones in turn. Head pounding, you groaned slightly, trying to work out what in the hell just happened to you.

Darkness continued to fill the room, prompting you to fish within one of your pockets, pulling out a match and striking it aflame. The hidden chamber was large, that much you could tell even despite the dim lighting. Blinking twice as you began to, very slightly, register your surroundings, you noticed the sheer obscurity of this interior. You'd heard of the saying 'paintings that seemed to follow you around the room', but this gave a new meaning to those words.

No, wait.

Those paintings were moving, and not metaphorically. Eyes widening, you began to notice everything in the tomb writhing like a cluster of cobras. Onyx black cats prowled upon shelves, worn linen bandages slowly unfurling from being bound around each of their limbs. Animated drawings of men, deities and horses alike moved naturally, as though it were a perfectly normal occurrence. Shabti servants, the colour of oxidised copper and ranging from 5-30cm tall formed an army scattered throughout the tomb. Then, slowly, as though delaying the inevitable, your eyes trained upon it.

The sarcophagus.

Shuffling away rapidly, your back hit the decrepit wall of the hidden grave. The embodiment of terror plastered over your face, you watched in horror as the coffin began to violently shake. Your blood ran cold as bangs from the inside began to echo across the acoustic chamber. The rusted hinges were worn and flimsy, and the bolts began to unscrew from their holdings. Padlocks had become frail with ages and popped open, one almost smacking you square in the forehead, to which you responded with a short yelp. For a moment, all movement ceased, as though whatever was inside had begun to listen to the intruder in their grave. You took liberty of the fleeting moment, and began to craft a way out. The quiet was short lived, however, as, with one final, mighty heave, the final lock was broken.

The sarcophagus had been opened.

Your breath caught in your throat, the air thick and suffocating as you watched a wrapped hand emerge from the tomb. The coffin lid was ajar, though it didn't take much pushing to be removed almost entirely. Almost at once, the creatures residing in the grave marched forward, crowding their newly awoken master. Hidden in the shadows, you froze, hoping to remain unseen and ignored, and thus leaving unscathed. Soon enough Carter and Carnarvon were bound to find you?

Right?

A huge open grave couldn't be subtle, you only missed it as you eyes were closed. A stupid decision really, and you mentally cursed yourself.

You remained rooted to the spot on the freezing floor, as the reanimated corpse continued to rise from its grave. Surely this was an affect of your concussion; for all you knew this was just an unconscious dream. Besides, with all the travel in the desert, dehydration had undoubtedly left you delirious. It was at that split second of slight relaxation (if you could call it that) in which you spied the piles of treasure sloping at every corner of the tomb. What could you say - you were a grave robber. Carnarvon would be so proud - if you returned alive that was.

It began to claw at the ancient, frayed linen covering its face, causing your heart to race: it thumped so hard you swore you'd be given away. Praying you didn't go into cardiac arrest, you continued staring bug-eyed as the bandages unfurled in front of you, like the dramatic unveiling of an innovative new invention. Closing your eyes for the second time that day, you winced, raising your arms to shield your face from the horrors you were undoubtedly about to witness. Bile rose in your throat as your mouth drew dry. Images of rancid, rotting flesh peeling off bones flashed through your mind, prompting your whole body to tremble.

'I'm just delirious. Any moment now I'll open my eyes to be met with a chamber of riches.' You thought to yourself. Awoken mummies were the stuff of fairytales, and despite what Carnarvon and Carter believed, you were most certainly not a child.

Your internal monologue was cut short however, interrupted by the gentlest of touches placed on your arm. It prompted you to flinch away instantaneously, a soft whimper escaping. Eyes shooting open, you came face to face with the pharoah himself. And he was not what you had anticipated.

He wasn't the scary mummy you were expecting, he was a teenage kid.

Kind, cerulean eyes rimmed with a smoky black eyeliner stared into your own, azure oceans plagued with concern. Concern for you. Such a colour must have been pricelessly rare, sapphires amongst stones.

His golden, tanned hand had felt cold and lifeless against your arm, yet the heat it had radiated was electrifying, continuing to shoot jolts throughout your entire body. His skin was soft and smooth, betraying the fact that this royal had almost certainly never worked a day in his life.

Slightly unruly brown curls and a toned slender figure - he was actually rather cute.

"Are you alright? You seem a little... Lost?" He queried, to which you seemed unable to form a response.

"I- what.. who? What's going on?" You managed, stumbling over your words as your voice cracked slightly.

He gave a small smile, clearly sympathetic of your utter confusion, before gesturing at a golden tablet, as though that were supposed to help you in any way. Noting your expression of utter bewilderment, the undead Pharaoh elaborated.

"That's my tablet, blessed by Khonsu himself. It holds the power to awake the dead at night," he gestures to himself and the cats, who stared at you, blinking and unsure whether it would be safe for them to approach. Then, he pointed to the paintings in the walls and dragged his finger towards the mass of shabti dolls, both of which watched you with the same confusion. "Along with anything else resembling a life form that finds it's way into the presence of the tablet."

"Right." You answered, holding your head and still in shock.

"You needn't be afraid, you know. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Thank you, that is a relief." You swallowed thickly.

He hummed in response, smiling with an amused frown at the fact you feared him.

"So, who exactly are you?" You asked after a short yet not uncomfortable silence.

His lavish outfit betrayed the royal status he claimed in life, only accentuated by the Red Crown, or Deshret supporting a golden snake - the symbol of monarchy- resting atop his sarcophagus. Around his neck fastened a Usekh collar, adorned with teal and umber jewels and beads, and topped with golden accents. Sleeves of cloth draped over his arms, the fibres of the fabric woven with pure gold. The metallic shine of the element was evident in the chromatic sheen of the cape resting over the Pharoah's shoulders. At his waist there hung a Shendyt kilt, fastened with a cloth belt, also elaborately decorated. Beautiful gold jewellery decorated his figure, your eyes drawn in particular to the stunning gold bracelet cuffs he supported on either wrist, encrusted with gemstones, potentially aquamarine or topaz. Once again your attention was drawn to his face.

"I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth king. And you are...?"

Stunned into silence for a moment by the regality of the ancient king before you, you blinked and paused briefly before answering.

"Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"So, Y/N, what are you doing in my grave?" Ahkmenrah asked you, barely trying to surpress an amused smile. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to form a lie. This ruler seemed nice, and regardless, you couldn't exactly tell him you were intent on raiding his tomb for riches.

"It was an accident. Really, it was. I was running, and, well, I wasn't exactly looking where I was going."

"Clearly." He smirked. "Why were you in the desert though? Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but you don't appear to be Egyptian."

"What? Oh, no I'm not. I'm English. I came out in an expedition with two other men; Lord Carnarvon and Carter. They're archaeologists." You winced at the manufactured truth. It wasn't entirely a lie, that was what the men claimed to be. Though all your troupe really planned to accomplish was glorified tomb-raiding, a fact that made you sick.

"And they left you here?" Ahkmenrah questioned incredulously, unable to fathom why on earth they would abandon you like this.

"Well, no. Not exactly. They allowed me to go check out the pyramid about 10 yards south, but, as o said, I fell down a hole." You blushed again, this time due to your own stupidity and clumsiness. This was not how to earn the respect of an esteemed king.

Ahkmenrah frowned. "So how long have you been down here?"

"Uh. I don't actually know, I was unconscious for a short time. Or possibly a long time, that I'm not sure of either."

Concern once again crossed the young Pharoah's face. "You poor thing! Are you alright? You're not concussed, are you?"

"Probably." You shrugged, further alarming him.

The next few hours were spent talking to Ahk, discussing everything from the legal affairs of ancient Egypt to the cats that accompanied him in his tomb. Over the course of the night, the two of you had grown closer, both in terms of friendship and literal distance. Most of the other inhabitants of the grave had deemed you safe, returning to their regular routine, and the most curious of the mummified cats, an (aptly) Egyptian mau apparently named Tivali, had become rather taken to you. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day had caught up with you, and you slumped against Ahk's shoulder. Revelling in his presence, contentment washed over you as, for the first time on your quest, you relaxed, finally at ease. Perhaps it was delirium, but in your sleepy state you swore you felt his fingertips grace against your cheek, the ghost of his lips pressing gently against your temple.

"Sleep well, my dear."

#night at the museum #natm #natm ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek #rami malek x reader #egypt #ancient egypt #history #egyptology #archaeology #natm fandom #natm fanfiction #natm fic #night at the museum fanfic #natm au #egyptian pharaoh

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biggestxsimps · 1 year

Note

could you do the quarry guys reacting to reader getting attacked by werewolves? can you also make it angsty, thank u!

A/N: ofc, thanks for the request! I tried to make it angsty, idk if I did it right though. Also I know it’s been a while since we’ve posted, we’ve both been caught up with our lives. After this, I hope to be able to post a little more frequently. Thank you for your patience!

Please be aware this fic contains: Mentions of blood, gore, violence and spoilers.

~~~~~~~

Ryan Erzahler:

He shouldn’t have let you come with him and Laura, you weren’t already infected like she was and neither had the desire to save Chris.

But no matter how he felt you persisted that you go with him.

You wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get harmed.

That brings us to now, Ryan’s been infected and you were on the hunt for Chris.

The three of you walked into a dark room, you stopping near the door with Ryan “How are you feeling?” You hold him up.

“I’ve been better.” He muttered.

Laura moved into the middle of the room “I think we found Chris.” she looked into the darkness.

You and Ryan follow Laura, seeing a werewolf Chris tied up to a pole.

Ryan was about to speak when Chris charged at us, breaking through the floor.

Chris was on top of you trying to maul you while Laura had just begun to transform.

Ryan ducked for the table, quickly grabbing the gun.

Laura jumped towards Travis, attempting to attack him.

Ryan looked over to the now werewolf Laura until he heard a blood-curdling scream. He whipped his head over to you, watching as your organs were ripped out of your torso.

He yelled as he lifted the gun, shooting Chris.

He watched as his manager dropped to the ground.

Laura had turned back and begun to thank Travis for sparing her while Ryan just dropped.

He held his now-dead lover in his shaking arms.

“I’m so sorry..” He muttered through broken sobs. “I shouldn’t have let you come.”

~~~~~~~

Dylan Lenivy:

Ryan and Laura had just left for the Hackett house and Kaitlyn, Dylan, Abi and I had gone out to check if we could leave with the van.

The four of us made it to the van and Kaitlyn decided that Abi should hide in the bunker.

As she was walking down, the rest of us walked towards the van.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but the van looks like it’s moving?” Dylan points out.

“You’re right.” Kaitlyn lifts the gun “Open the door.” she nudges you.

You cautiously walk over to the van, ghosting your hand over the handle, you look towards Kaitlyn as she nods your way.

You start to push down the handle when the door aggressively opens from the inside, throwing you far into the dirt.

You rush back to try and get behind Kaitlyn as the werewolf jumps towards you. You turn around, face to face with the werewolf as you yell for Kaitlyn.

“SHOOT IT!” Dylan yells.

Kaitlyn shakes as she tries to fix her aim onto the werewolf.

You cry out as its sharp teeth tear into you, ripping through your limbs.

“SHOOT IT KAITLYN!” Dylan screams before it tears into your torso, clawing out your organs.

Kaitlyn shoots the werewolf, a shivering screech being heard before it jumps and runs off into the woods.

Dylan can’t help but stare at your now lifeless and dismembered body. His heart dropping and his eyes watering at the sight.

He mutters a mantra of ‘No’ and ‘Please’ as he drops down beside your mutilated corpse.

~~~~~~~

Jacob Custos:

(Maybe a bit too inspired by his interaction with Emma but that's alright)

You were walking around an unfamiliar part of the forest you had run into trying to shake off the werewolf on your tail.

You look around hoping to find someone or something to help you find somewhere safe to camp the night out.

It took a while but you eventually found a figure that looked human.

You ran to the figure, noticing it was Jacob upon getting closer.

He turns your way as you call out his name, remaining still as you hold onto him.

“You’re alive!” You exclaim, pulling away to look at him. Your hand resting on his cold cheek.

“No, I’m not?” He responds dryly. He pulls away, “I’m- I’m nothing..”

“What do you-” “Stop it!”

You take a step back as Jacob starts hysterically cry-laughing, words becoming incoherent.

His voice lowers and words start sounding more inhuman.

You watch in horror as your boyfriend’s body bursts into blood, the familiar look of a werewolf now charging your way.

You scream as your body’s mauled by the man you loved. All noise stops as the sharp teeth rip into your neck, throwing your head off to the side.

The sun rises and waking back up in his own body, Jacob sees the bleeding head of his lover, glancing at the torn corpse beside it.

He falls down beside you, moving to rest his head on your chest, tears falling down his cheeks as he whispers apologies to your deaf ears.

~~~~~~~

Nick Furcillo:

You and Emma never got along but you never thought she would stoop this low.

Everyone knew that you and Nick had something going on, even if the two of you never outwardly said it.

You shake your head, maybe you were overreacting a bit.

You lift your gaze, cursing as you realize you have no idea where you are.

You turn around, trying to retrace your steps before you hear a faint voice calling out your name.

You smile as you recognize the Aussie’s unmistakable voice.

“Over here!” You call back.

He pants as he stops in front of you.

“Sorry, got a little too serious for me.” You look off to the sky.

“Yeah, I understand.” He shoots a half smile, moving closer to you.

You look his way at the sound of the steps.

Your faces now inches apart and eyes locked together.

You both move closer before-

“HGGRRR”

Your heads turn, now being faced with a terrifying humanoid figure.

“RUN!” You hear Nick yell before sprinting in the opposite direction of the beast.

You stand for a second before your legs find the strength to run.

You start turning and twisting through trees to try and trick it, somehow catching it off guard a couple times.

You drop down behind a rock, trying to hold your breath as you hear the ragged breathing and scratchy growls approach.

Your head feels airy and your lungs feel like they’re going to explode, you can’t hold it any longer.

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you attempt to silently let your breath out, failing as you choke on the collected saliva in your mouth.

You hear a screech before it starts crawling towards you.

You stumble on your feet before eventually pulling yourself up and running towards Nick.

You were so close.

Your body hits the ground as it jumps on your back, it’s clawed hands slamming your head into the dirt.

“Y/N!” Nick screams, running towards you as the beast rips into your body.

The beast leaps onto him biting a chunk out of his leg before the sound of a gunshot echoed into his ears.

He watched as it ran away, quickly glancing at your unmoving body before pushing himself backwards and wobbly running to the campfire.

Tears flowing as he collapses in front of the other counselors.

“Nick?! What hap-” “Y/N!” He frantically bawls. “I- He’s- Help him!” His choked out sobs becoming incoherent.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Sorry if the pacing is weird or if it doesn't flow that well, I wrote these half-asleep.

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

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luvliewriting · 2 years

Text

❦Cuddles with Quarry❦

Imagine: Imagining cuddling with the Quarry characters

Pronouns: she/her (only really for the gifs tho)

Note: Is this just an excuse to look at cuddling gifs because I'm sad and touch starved? Maybe

❦❦❦

Dylan Lenivy

He's a lot more playful when it comes to cuddling. Sure when time calls for it, he will just hold you and play with your hair. But most of the time, your cuddle sessions are just full of giggling and playful batter. Tickling each other, pinning games (that he most of the time wins but he lets you win sometimes), hiding his face in the crook of your neck leaving kisses. Overall he's just a playful guy.

❦❦❦

Abi Blyg

You're like her personal pillow, especially if she gets anxious letting her just lay on you and doodle on you. Though when she just feels touch starved she just wants to crawl up on you and slip away with your hands running up and down her back and kisses to her head

❦❦❦

Emma Mountebank

BOY IS THIS GIRL CUDDLY! Like even if you're just doing something simple like making dinner, she will come up behind you and cuddle you. Her online fans love you two and she will frecuantly take pictures of you two while you're cuddling and post them for her fans. She loves to kiss your head as well while you two are wrapped up under your blankets like a pretzel

❦❦❦

Jacob Custos

Jacob is just so sweet, he’s one-hundred percent a big spoon, it comforts him to know that he’s able to make you feel safe and loved just by having you in his arms. It’s even better when the cuddles come from after a workout. Having to watch you sit on the couch while he works out and not be able to go over to cuddle you, so when he finishes, be aware he won’t let go of you for quite sometime

❦❦❦

Kaitlyn Ka

Kaitlyn isn't much of a cuddler, not much of a toucher even. But she loves to just lay in bed with you sometimes, she might play with your hair a little or nuzzle your shoulder. While being very hands off in your relationship, if you really need her to cuddle you she will wrap you up in her arms and hold you and never let go

❦❦❦

Nick Furcillo

He’d crush you! Like no really, mention even just a hug and he’d find some way to make it cuddling just to crush you, not that you minded actually. He isn’t too heavy so it’s not like he suffocates you, and sometimes it’s nice to just have him so close to you.

❦❦❦

Ryan Erzahler

This boy secretly loves to be the little spoon, just getting to have your arms around him and your head against his back. Of course, Ryan will jump up at the mention of you wanting to be the little spoon, he loves to make you feel safe and protected by him. But at the same time, the man just wants to be held.

❦❦❦

Laura Kearney

Like Kaitlyn, she isn't very touchy. But when it comes to cuddling, she loves to have your head in her lap while she just runs your nails up and down your arms or in your hair. She likes having you close without being too close, not that she doesn't like you, she loves you, she's just not very used to physical touch

❦❦❦

Max Brinley

The dude was definitely the little spoon in the first few weeks of your relationship but he’s slowly got more comfortable with being the big spoon, you barely remember the last time you were the big spoon. He just likes to play with your hair or watch you sleep, not to be a creep but more just to know you’re at peace in his arms

❦❦❦

Travis Hackett

As much as Travis loves to have you in his arms, he equally loves getting to lay his head on your chest and just listen to your breathing. Especially if he’s just had a stressful day or been working for hours, just getting to lay on your chest while you talk about anything that comes to mind, your hands in his hair, he completely melts in your touch

❦❦❦

Thanks for reading and don't forget to like and maybe reblog as it really does help me out

Taglist:

❦❦❦

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dizzyjelly · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Girl pt. 2 (18+)

Read part 1 here!

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: you and Abby go on a mall date and you run into your ex, Abby takes you back to her place and you guys have some fun;)

Cw: smut, use of daddy, strap-on sex, fingering, finger sucking

It had been almost a week since your hot and heated kiss with Abby on her couch, and things were going exceptionally well between the two of you. That night you ended up falling asleep cuddled on her couch, you expected the morning after to be slightly awkward. But it was everything but that, you woke up to the smell of your favorite breakfast which Abby cooked for you.

A smile was present on your face as you made your way to her kitchen, sitting at her Island and watching contently as she plated the food. She'd greet you with a cheeky good morning and you'd return her with the same.

Now, fast forward a few days later. You stood at her front door, knocking way too many times as you were eager to see her. Once she finally came to the door, she scolded you for knocking so much. You just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

"I was actually about to head out, you wanna go to the mall with me?" She asked as she was grabbing her things.

"Um, yes! I'd love to, but what are you going for?" You asked as you followed her out to her car.

"Just wanted to get some new clothes, and I've been really craving those pretzels from Auntie Annes." She explained as she started the car.

"Ok, cool." You responded with a smile.

Abby would rest her hand on your thigh as she drove, a habit she picked up after your shared kiss. Not only was it comforting, but it also made the butterflies in your stomach travel further south. You did your best to keep your mind clean on the way there, but it was proving impossible as she played with the hem of your baby pink skirt.

Abby was no fool, she knew it drove you crazy. But maybe that's what drove her to continue her actions. The way your breath would hitch, and you'd stretch your neck from side to side. It always brought a playful smirk to her lips. One she'd never let you see though, at least not yet.

Eventually you got to the mall and Aby brought her hand back to her side, stepping out of the car and walling over to open your door for you. You thanked her with a smile then walked beside her into the mall. It happened to actually be insanely busy, worried you'd lose her in the sea of people you interlocked your fingers with Abbys. You smiled widely as she gave your hand a light squeeze, glancing over at you.

She was leading the way, already having a store in mind. But you stopped her, standing outside of the Yankee Candle. She stopped to stand next to you, confused as to why you wouldn't budge.

"Oh, Abby, please can we go in here?" You asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Ok, fine." She agreed, how could she say no to you?

You smiled big as you walked in, admiring the color coded rows of candles on various shelves. You'd held your arm around hers now, taking her to where all the red and pink candles sat. She watched in amusement as you grabbed one, popping off the lid to take a strong whiff.

"Mm, Abs smell this one." You'd say as you shoved the candle in her face, making it bump into her nose lightly.

"Oh, ok" She chuckled a bit, smiling as she smelt it, "damn, that does smell good. You know what, that smells like your room." She quirked a brow at the familiarity.

"Well probably because I have like five of these at home." You joked.

"Wh- why did you need to smell it here then?" She asked confused.

"It's tradition, I am going to smel every candle in this store." You shrugged, and immediately she was shaking her head in disagreement.

"Ok, no, not all of them!" She argued, "that's gonna take way too long."

"I guess you're right, but here let's at least get through these." You gestured to the shelf of pink candles behind you.

You'd each pick one up, smell it, then hand it to each other to smell for yourselves. Everything was going great, and you'd noted some of your favorites as you went along the shelf. But then, you felt someone grabbing at your forearm, and it wasn't Abby.

"Hey Y/n!" She exclaimed, as if she was beyond happy to see you.

Your eyes widened and you let out a sharp exhale, because of fucking course it was your ex. Stacy. Not only was she a shitty girlfriend, but she totally ghosted you. You'd just assumed that was her way of breaking up with you.

"Uh, hi." You chuckled awkwardly, avoiding Abbys strong gaze.

"Gosh, it's been forever. You know I really missed you, I've been trying to call you too. Did you get a new number or something?" Se asked, feigning innocence as she lightly stroked your arm.

Nope, you'd just blocked her sorry ass on about every platform you could thing of. It was more out of rage than anything, but you certainly didn't regret it.

"Uh, sure lets just say that." You scratched behind your ear, one of your many nervous habits.

"Well, that's too bad. I thought maybe we could catch up, watch a movie like old times?" She bit at her bottom lip with a cheeky smile.

When you guys were together, anytime you'd sit down to watch a movie you never actually watched it. It'd take about twenty minutes or so before you were fucking each other's brains out. As you continued speaking with Stacy, the bitter feeling of jealousy just rose in Abby’s chest.

"Yeah, no" and finally you pulled your arm from her touch, leaning into Abby, "this is Abby, and if im being honest I'd much rather watch a movie with her than you."

Stacy scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, whatever. We both know I'm the best you ever had." Now she was just being cocky.

"Please, as if. I'd put you like fourth at best." You quickly humbled her and she walked away with her head ducked down in embarrassment.

You could feel Abby tense, and you felt bad. It's not like it was your fault you'd run into Stacy, but still. You turned to face her, bringing your hands to her sides. You'd rub them up and down before pulling her body against yours by her waist, resting your had on her shoulder. She sighed, wrapping her arms around your back.

"Still wanna get pretzels and shop?" Your voice was muffled by her neck.

"Mm, let's get pretzels but I don't really feel like shopping anymore." She let out a heavy breath.

"Mkay." You pulled away from her, placing a quick kiss to her lips before taking her hand in your own as she led you two to the Auntie Annes.

Once you got there she ordered for the both of you, you each just got a pretzel and a soda. You'd asked for cheese dip, and she just had hers plain. Something you found outrageous.

The two of you sat on one of the various couches in the mall, just close enough so that your thighs would touch. You ate in silence for a bit, until finally you spoke up.

"Sorry about Stacy earlier. I don't know what the hells gotten into her." You shook your head.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm just glad you didn't take her up on her offer." She let out a small laugh of relief.

"Come on, no way. Besides, like I said, I'd way much rather be spending my time with you." You turned to look at her now, a small smirk on your face.

She smiled back at you, her eyes wandering all over your face. And taking the occasional glance at how good your top made your tits stick out. After a minute you'd bring a hand to the side of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

She brought a hand to your waist, smiling as your lips locked with hers. You sighed into her, giving her full access to slip her tongue into your mouth. You'd proceed to swap spit until you were too embarrassed to continue, as you were in public. That and the fact that you worried if you didn't stop, things would go further than just making out.

You finished your food and sipped on your drinks as you walked back out to the car. Abby took you guys back to her place, where she'd ask you to help out with some chores around the house. You didn't mind, more than willing to lend her a helping hand. It was nothing too terrible either, mostly just sweeping or cleaning out clutter.

Hours went by and it was quite dark out now. You and Abby were just lounging on her bed, she had her back against the headboard and her legs spread. You laid with your back on her chest, a hand resting on her thigh as you sat between her legs. After a minute or so, she tapped your shoulder lightly.

"Hm?" You'd hum, not looking back at her.

"You wanna go out?" She asked.

"Like, to a bar?" You'd ask in return.

"Yeah, why not? We haven't gone out in a while." She shrugged.

It didn't seem the most appealing, as you were looking forward to just a cozy night in. But she was right, it'd been too long since you went out together. So you agreed and practically jumped with joy when she let you dress her. Once you'd had her in a rather sexy outfit, you couldn't help but focus on her bare face.

"Can I do your makeup?" You asked, fluttering your eyelashes at her.

"Eh, I don't know." She was hesitant as she preferred a more natural look.

"Pleade please pleaseeee, I'll do anything." You begged, and immediately a smirk formed on her face.

"Anything huh? Alright fine." She agreed, and you pushed her to lay back on her bed as you rummaged through her vanity.

It took you a while, but finally you found what you were looking for. A black eyeliner pencil, a tube of mascara, and a tinted chapstick which was the closest you'd get to lip gloss. You set the makeup products down on the bed beside Abby, then you pushed her legs together as she had a habit of manspreading.

You tried to ignore the fluttering in both your stomach, and your cunt, as you straddled her then leaned forward to grab the eyeliner. Abby, of course, had a stupid smirk painted on her face as she brought her hands to rest on your hips.

"You know, I think I like you on top." She'd whisper in a sultry voice.

"Shut the fuck up." You'd respond, letting out a low laugh as you practically layed on top of her so you could begin drawing on her eyeliner.

Her eyes bored into yours as you did your best to give her a straight wing, and you were rather pleased with your finished work. Leaning back, you set the eyeliner pen down and went to reach for the mascara. But Abby stopped you before you could, her hands finding a tight grip on your wrists. Your breath hitched as you struggled to get them free, steadying yourself so your hands were at either side of her head.

"What are you doing, hm? Thought you wanted to go out." You whispered against her face as your lips were nearly touching hers as you spoke.

"I don't know, I've got something else in mind now." She looked at you with suggestive eyes.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" You prompted, wiggling your hips a bit so that your clothed cunt grazed against hers perfectly.

"Mm, fuck." She groaned, and before you knew it she was on top.

Abby wouldn't waste any time, first she'd start by kissing you sloppily. Then traveling her lips to your jaw, and your neck to suck a few hickeys that'd definitely be visible tomorrow. You let out something between a huff and a moan as she kissed her way down to your waist, pulling your skirt down and tossing it to the floor. She'd tapped your legs, looking at you from where she knelt between your legs.

"Put your legs up for me baby." She smiled as you listened, raising and spreading your legs at once so she had a perfect view of your white panties.

She let out a low chuckle, pressing her fingers to the wet spot that had formed on them. She watched you intently as she ran her fingers up and down your clothed cunt, circling at your clit for just a moment before pulling away completely.

"Abbyyy~" You whined, bucking your hips up against nothing, searching for some kind of relief.

"Shh, I know baby, I know." She shushed you as she brought her hands to your thighs, spreading your legs unbelievably further as she placed feather light kisses to your inner thighs.

So close, yet so far from where you needed her the most.

"Mmnph- Abby, fuck. Please." You whined, and of course she'd play dumb.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" She asked, continued the kisses on your inner thighs.

"Ugh, just fucking-" You gasped slightly as she pressed her tongue flat against the wet spot on your panties, lapping at it "fuckk, need you inside me." You let out a small moan.

A devilish smile was present on her face as she finally pulled your panties off, starting with some kisses to your clit. You threw your head back, letting it sink further into the mattress as you let out moans and whimpers from the way she sucked at your sensitive bud. And you thought, finally, as she circled your hole unbelievably slow with her middle finger before plunging it in all the way.

You let out a breathy moan, the way her finger curled up against that sweet spot made you feel like you were going to black out. After about a minute or so of her moderately paced thrusts, you let out a whine.

"More." You demanded with a whimper.

"More what?" She'd ask in return, as if she didn't already know the answer.

"Mm~ fingers! Please, daddy." And your eyes widened at the name, it was unexpected to say the least.

Immediately you worried Abby would find it weird, or that she wouldn't be into it. But much to your dismay, she let out a low groan as she pushed her ring finger into your hole.

"Fuck, say it again." She commanded, and of course you obliged.

You'd continue to make and whine, the word 'daddy' being the majority of your vocabulary now. A few more minutes went by and you felt that familiar pressure in yohr stomach.

"Ab- Mm, fuck, daddy. 'M gonna cum." You whined, your brows furrowing in pleasure.

"Go ahead baby, cum for Daddy." She let out a small moan as your juices coated her fingers.

She didn't stop though, driving you into overstimulation until you'd be begging her to stop. Once she did, she brought her fingers to your mouth. You opened up and welcomed them with your warm tongue, swirling it around them and moaning at the taste of yourself.

"That's my girl, clean your mess." She smiled at you as you sucked her fingers clean, "Yeah, good girl." She hummed.

And you swore you felt your clit throb at the pet name because Jesus fucking Christ.

"Abs~" You whined, for what you're not entirely sure.

She brought a finger to your lips, shushing you before giving you a small pat on your upper thigh.

"Be right back baby, stay right here." She walked over to her closet, dropping her pants them retrieving an item from the top shelf.

You could've foamed at the mouth when she walked back over with a goddamn eight inch bright pink strap tied on her waist. She brought her hands to rub at your hips softly, a smile plastered on her face.

"You're so fucking beautiful..." She whispered, "you already came all over my fingers, but I bet you'll like it even better when you cum on my cock, hm?" She rubbed her hands across your thighs and just skimmed them on your tummy a bit.

"Mm-hm, yes Daddy. Please, wanna cum all over your cock." You whined.

She nodded her head to the nightstand behind you, which is where the lube sat.

"You wanna help me out? Be a good girl and get my cock all nice and ready for you?" She asked, and you nodded feverishly.

Leaning back, you stretched your arm to grab the bottle, unintentionally arching your back. The sight had Abby illiciting a soft groan, her grip on your hips tightening at the sight of you. You popped the cap open, squirting(😉) a decent amount of lube onto your hand. Then you reached forward, wrapping it around the long strap and stroking it gently as you coated it. Once you were finished you closed the bottle and tossed it to the side on the bed, wiping your semi-sticky hand on the sheets.

Abby took her time, and it felt like forever. But she finally pushed into you, and God it felt amazing. The stretch was just enough, almost too much, but not quite there. It rested against that sweet sweet spot perfectly, and then as she began to thrust you felt like you'd die from how good it felt.

"D-daddy..." You whined, and she stilled for a moment.

Her hands came to either side of your face, as she peered down at you.

"Yes, baby?" She asked, smirking at how you pouted from the way she stopped her motions.

"Please, don't go easy." You let out a small moan.

Her smile only grew, and so did yours as her thrusts resumed. She started at an unbearably slow pace, but quickly went harder and faster. You brought a hand to grip her bicep, the other one laying lazily above your head. She kept a strong grip on your legs as she pounded into you so relentlessly. Then, she brought her hands to underneath your thighs so she could pess your knees to your chest. Somehow she'd managed to thrust into you even harder, even faster.

"Stacy ever fuck you this good, hm?" Abby asked with a smirk.

"N-no, only you can fuck me this good daddy mm~" You moaned.

Your moans only grew louder, occasional whimpers and whines slipping past your lips at how good Abby was fucking you. It didn't take much more for you to cum, and when you finally did it felt so perfect. You practically screamed as you came, and all Abby could do was smile and let out a small moan at how fucking sexy it all was.

Once she'd felt you'd finished riding out your high, she pulled out. You whined at the emptiness, and she chuckled softly.

"Come on, I want you on top. Wanna see you ride my cock." She rubbed at your sides, helping you up as you were already a bit exhausted after having came twice.

She let out a deep sigh, caressing your hips as she reached for the lube feeling a bit more was needed. You waited as she coated her beautifully long strap in it, resting as you straddled her thighs. You raised yourself up, and she slid into your sopping cunt once again.

Your thighs twitched as you leaned forward, almost laying completely on top of her as you slowly rocked your hips and grinded down onto her cock. Abby moved her hands to your hips, helping you move your hips in just the right way.

You'd grabbed her strong shoulders to stabilize yourself, letting loud sweet moans fall past your lips as you gripped them helplessly. Abby bit down on her bottom lip as the strap was hitting her clit just perfectly, but it was too soft. She didn't mind though, because with the way your tits were bouncing in her face she could probably finish right here. She wouldn't yet though.

"Fuck, baby, you drive me insane." Abby let out a small huff as her hands roamed all over your back.

You let out a small laugh, grinding unbelievably harder as you were chasing what would now be your third release. After a minute or so, you leaned back and placed your hands behind you on her legs to stabilize yourself. Abby moaned loudly as she held your waist.

"Oh, f-feels 's much better like that." She whined, the strap hitting her clit just right now.

She thrusted into you, moaning as she watched the way your tits bounced and your body jiggled. It didn't take much more for you to cum this time, and it hit you like a truck. You sighed exasperatedly as your body stilled with exhaustion. Abby groaned frustratedly, resuming her movements as you'd stopped. She came with a loud moan and a smile on her face.

You let yourself fall against her, your boobs resting against her own which were covered by her black sports bra. You were breathless, your arms wrapping around her. She brought her arms to rub your back soothingly.

"Did you cum?" Your voice was whiny and breathless, but you were worried more than anything that you hadn't returned the pleasure Abby had given you.

"Yeah, fuck." She'd respon, easing your worries.

"I need a second." You let out another sigh, Abby chuckled lightly, rubbing at your hips.

"'S ok, you can take a second." She placed a kiss to your cheeks, letting you lie there for as long as you'd need.

Once you were ready, Abby pulled out and lied you down on the bed before standing and removing her strap. She walked to the bathroom and brought back a wet washcloth to wipe you down with, caressing your cheek and placing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled up at her, bringing a hand to her shoulder.

She discarded the rag then helped you get into one of her t-shirts and a pair of boxers, while she stayed in her sports bra and threw on some boxers as well. She climbed into bed with you, spooning you from behind as she pulled you against her. You relaxed against her, smiling as she'd push a strand of hair behind your ear then place one last kiss on your cheek before resting her head so that her nose was in your hair. You'd both fall asleep shortly after.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader

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theshatteringoftheteacup · 7 months

Text

Chasing Frogs

Sam knew where Sebastian would be the moment he heard thunder. He’d been carefully dusting the artifacts for Gunther when he’d heard the first clap of it. When he finished with the artifacts he went to look out the window, watching as drops gathered on the window and raced down. He knew Seb was either on his way to the farmer’s ranch so he could chase frogs at their pond or was already at the water near his house trying to catch some without going too far in. He was thankful the farmer had been cool and managed to not only fix the community center, but also allow Sam and Sebastian to mess around on their farm. The one rule was not to mess with their things which was easy enough to follow most of the time.

“Sam, you can head out early today,” Gunther said as he appeared out of nowhere.

The blonde tried not to flinch so as to not appear rude, but Gunther sure moved silently and it always took him off guard when he’d just be there. “You sure? I can finish up with the minerals-”

“I can see you staring out the window, there’s something you’d rather be doing. It’s alright.”

Sam grinned before running out of the library and to his house. The rain drenched him and the first thing he heard when he threw the front door open was his mom telling him he better leave his muddy shoes outside. He did as she asked before going to his bedroom to find frog hunting attire. A pair of jeans that Abigail constantly told him he needed to fix before they ripped in half, a long sleeve shirt because it was cold, his rain coat because his mom would be mad to find out he went out in the rain without some sort of coat, and of course his boots. He yelled a goodbye to his family before running to the farm, laughing in delight when he saw Sebastian crouched near the pond with his hands cupped near the water. The farmer was standing on their porch but waved when they saw Sam who happily waved back before squatting down next to his friend.

“Catch any yet?”

“No,” Sebastian answered quietly, “I’ve been playing with the tadpoles.” He said before showing his handful to Sam. Sure enough there were a few tadpoles wiggling around in Sebastian’s hands but when Sam went to touch one he closed his hands together. “Catch your own, these are mine.”

Sam snorted before patting his pockets to see if he remembered a flashlight. When Sebastian noticed he came empty handed he carefully put the tadpoles back into the water before passing him a flashlight from his bag. They used the flashlights to point out frogs for the other to try catching. Sam couldn’t help the smile that was making his cheeks ache as he listened to Sebastian laugh and seeing him smile as he chased after the amphibians. They took turns trying to push the other into the water and after catching a few dozen frogs, Sam finally managed to get Sebastian in. He froze waiting for him to get annoyed or angry but instead he heard laughter which caused him to laugh. The pond wasn’t very deep so Sebastian was in water that was only halfway up his shins. He used the new location to try and push frogs towards Sam’s direction. Sam watched Sebastian with a small smile as he waded around, trying occasionally to catch a frog or bending down to wiggle his fingers for the tadpoles. It was rare to see Sebastian smile, even more rare was hearing him laugh. Sam always felt happier when he knew Sebastian was happy too.

“I didn’t even know there were frogs this big here!” Sebastian announced as he held up a frog gripped between both hands.

The smile he had made Sam’s heartbeat speed up. He would never understand what Seb’s obsession with frogs was about or where it came from, but watching him chase frogs or enthusiastically telling Sam about them always made him smile and made his chest feel weird. He didn’t talk to his mom about it because he didn’t want to bother her since his dad came back, and he couldn’t talk to Abi because she’d more than likely tease him about it. He assumed it was maybe a proud feeling from his friend being happy to share an interest with him.

“Sam!”

The volume caused the blonde to snap back to the present, staring down at Sebastian as he looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Dude, I’m stuck in the mud.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

Sebastian glared at him with no feeling behind it as he held out his hands towards him. Sam approached the water and grabbed the other’s hands, letting out a shout as he was pulled to stand in the cold water. Sebastian was laughing again and Sam couldn’t bring himself to really be upset even if his boots were now full of cold pond water and his mom was going to freak out about it. They continued to follow after the frogs, no longer trying to catch any, until Sam started to sneeze.

“Don’t tell me you’re already sick,” Sebastian said as he got out of the pond.

“Not sick. It’s cold out and you know I sneeze when I’m cold.”

“Yeah, okay, if you’re sick tomorrow let me know. I can bring you some soup or something. I think mom was making pumpkin soup tonight or tomorrow. She’d let me give some to you.”

Sam shrugged and handed Sebastian his flashlight back. “Maybe. Won’t know until morning. You see any you wanted to add to your terrarium?”

“Nah, these are all healthy wild frogs. Plus, Hopper doesn’t really like other frogs. I tried putting one in with him and he tried to eat it.”

“Yikes. Perfect example of only child syndrome or something. Well, night. Lemme know when you get home. Make sure to not wear your muddy shoes into your house because I know for a fact Robin will kick your ass.”

Sebastian waved a dismissive hand at him before waving bye. Sam watched him walk off before heading towards his own house. He left his muddy boots as well as his jeans outside before carefully removing his raincoat. Jodi was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed but at least without all his wet dirty layers on she seemed less upset.

“Take a shower to warm up. I made a plate for you but you didn’t join us for dinner.”

“‘s rainin’, mom. You know we catch frogs when it’s raining.”

Jodi shook her head a little. “Shower. I’ll heat your food up and leave it on the table. Please make sure to do your dishes.”

Sam nodded and did as told, doing his best to not drip too much water as he headed to the bathroom. When he was stripped out of his remaining cold wet clothes he let out a sigh of relief. He let out another as he turned on the water and stood under the warm spray. He thought about Sebastian as he closed his eyes to scrub shampoo into his hair. He didn’t get why he was so obsessed with frogs but he liked that he was always invited to go frog catching. Sebastian had a few hobbies he didn’t share much information about but his love for frogs? The entire town knew about it. It was probably so strong it went all the way to the city. Sam laughed as he thought about there being some sort of telepathic output of Sebastian’s love for amphibians and then he caught himself. The realization forced his eyes open which made him let out a sound of pain because of course he’d make connections while washing soap out of his hair. He made sure it was all out before allowing himself to have the realization again.

I think I’m in love with Sebastian.

Oh shit.

#sambastian #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sam #short fic #sebastian's obsession with frogs #i married him in my game and i love the little terrarium #i love my two stupid boys though #they could be smart alone but together they share 1 braincell and play hot potato with it

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cherriiiepiee · 2 months

Text

“Why won’t you choose me?”

john marston x f!reader

summary !!!! — you’re johns side chick but you’re getting pretty tired of it so you tell john u or abi.. unfortunately he won’t leave his wife for you.

warnings !: smut at the first part (not rlly smut srryyyy) mostly just angst, johns gets drunk for a lil lol and a stinky cheater lol……. I think thatst it !!! ^_^ enjoyyy 😴😴

i feel so bad for abi in this :c i love her smm ill make her smth soon !!

this is kinda short so i do apologize !! i don’t have time to make it longer :((

—

"Thank you, sweetheart. I needed this." John pressed his forehead against yours, the glimmer of sweat and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. Cupping your hips with his calloused hands, sliding his length out of your throbbing hole. You let out a whiny moan at the loss feeling of him inside of you.

"I know — I know, I’ll see you later?" John responded, you sighed softly. John was attempting to urge you to leave his tent quickly due to the rising tension within him. Johns heart was racing at the thought of his wife, Abigail, approaching his tent and finding you half naked in Johns tent as his cum rested on your chest. He personally never cared for aftercare, not with you. You were just something to get his stress out. John quickly grabbed a rag and began rubbing off the mess off of you, burying the rag deep in his pocket, making a mental note to throw it away later.

"John.. I, er — can we talk about this? I don’t —" Your sentence was cut short by John's abrupt intervention, as he hastily shoved you out of the tent. Without giving you a chance to speak, John rushed around, frantically tidying up the cot, completely ignoring your presence.

—

Another heated argument erupted between John and Abigail, yet this one was worse for the both of you. Abigail was growing more suspicious with each passing moment, she began questioning the mysterious marks resting on John's neck. The outlaw was at a loss for words, utterly incapable of formulating a believable lie.

“It’s nothin’ Abigail.. just — quit it,” John attempted to pacify Abigail with a gentle rub of her shoulders, his free hand attempting to conceal most of the marks on his neck from her view by making his jacket cover most. She was unwilling to listen to those lies, growing tired of his bullshit and storming off. Johns hands slapped on his face, sighing frustratedly.

John could feel your gaze drilling into his skull, even after he strolled away into his tent. His temper had reached its limit, the pressure of his situation piling up on him as he responded in his usual brash manner. "What? I ain’t in the mood to deal with you either," he scoffed, spinning on his heel and storming off. A shiny bottle was held tightly in his hand, the contents inside indicating his desire for a brief escape from reality.

You never understood Johns relationship with Abigail. Nobody did. Not even John himself.

—

"I'm getting real sick of that attitude," you huffed, hovering above John as he lay flat on his back on the ground. He laughed drunkenly, his words barely intelligible as the alcohol took over his mind. "Why does it matter to you?" John laughed out a response, his words slurred and his speech already incoherent.

"Abigail or me." You firmly demanded, clearly frustrated by John's attitude. The outlaw's drunken wheezing laughter suddenly came to a halt, his sudden shift in expression making it clear he was getting angry. He propped himself up, his voice still slurred. "Are you serious..?" he uttered, his voice growing increasingly furious as he stared you down, his gaze burning into you.

John responded immediately, the words falling from his tongue without a second thought. "I'm not leaving my wife." He spoke through clenched teeth, taking a swig out of his beer before tossing the remainder onto the ground. The bottle broke into numerous shards on the ground, the sharp noise reverberating all throughout the encampment. You listened to him with a sinking heart, but a deep part of you knew his words to be true. You had dared to dream, wanting to believe that he would choose you, oh, how wrong you were.

"You don't love me?" You asked, your voice full of a deep sense of heartbreak and longing. John kept silent, refusing to answer your question, which gave you a clear hint at how he felt. He eventually muttered out a half-hearted "Sorry." before stumbling away, turning his back to you as you remained speechless, your eyes already filled with tears.

—

Everything has become different, John's behavior in contrast to his previous behavior indicating that something had fundamentally shifted in his attitude. He refused to even glance at you, never acknowledging your existence as he put all of his attention towards his wife. The attention he gave her was all the affection and care you'd desired, the sweet love and affection you yearned for. You could no longer help but feel the sting of jealously in your heart, envious of Abigail's privileged position and wishing you could be in her shoes.

You went to sit beside him, offering a small smile in a futile attempt at garnering his attention. However, he simply stood up and walked away, heading towards his shared tent with Abigail and leaving you in the chilly air alone once again. His indifference towards you only served to deepen your sadness, the tears filling up once more as the painful realization set in.

Why would you even think he would choose you?

teehee🙈🙈

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #teehee #x reader #foryou #part one #john marston #angst #no happy ending #female reader #fem reader #smut #abigail roberts #abigail marston #John marston imagine

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yourlastbraincell-kiwi · 2 months

Text

Veiled Promises

A/N: Part three of the little story I’ve created. I tried to make it longer than the last couple and I think I got it down.

Enjoy!

—————

After Lady Jessica had left, I had a lot more to process than anything ever before.

I went straight to the library and looked for anything, anything that could tell me more about the Bene Gesserit.

Papers, books, journals, whatever.

I was desperate to find any bit of knowledge from these books.

After skimming and reading the books and journal entries, I hadn’t realized I was incredibly tired until it was too late. I had fallen asleep on the books, not long after.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)? Oh, good havens.” I slowly lifted my head as Abigail helped me sit up straight. “What were you doing in here? Late night studying, I presume?” She smiled and was about to let out a hearty laugh, before noticing the books and papers, I had left scattered on the table.

“The Bene Gesserit…” She whispered.

“Do you know about them?”

“Me? Oh no dear, no more than what we already know.” She said scooping up the books and papers off the table, and pushed me towards the exit.

“Wait! What do you know about them, Abi?”

“Know about what?” My father asked as he stood in front of the both of us.

“Nothing, sir. Nothing at all, just taking (Y/N) back to her room is all.” He nods ands lets us go through.

“Make sure you’re dressed for breakfast, there’s something I wish to discuss with you.” I nod and hurried off to my room with Abi.

When we made it to my room Abi closed the door and set the stuff on my bedside table. “What on earth are doing reading up on this?”

“I wanted to learn more about them so I am. What’s so bad about them? Are they bad people? I asked and Abigail falls silent.

“Abigail please. Tell me something. anything.”

“I forbade you from researching on and about them. That’s all I will say to you about this matter.” Abigail makes sure to take the books with her on her way out, and I huff and sighed. I changed into some clothes and met my father for breakfast.

I nodded in the direction of my father as I sat across from him and slowly ate today’s breakfast.

“(Y/N) ? Is there something you wish to tell me?” I shake my head ‘no,’ “No, father.”

“Funny you say that, because Abigail told me somethings.” I sigh and look down at my plate.

“Do you wish to tell me before, I have to repeat what I was told?”

“I was up last night reading up on something.”

“What was it that you were reading about, (Y/N)?” He said, getting visibly angry with me.

“I was reading about the Bene Gesserit!”

“What on earth made you want to read about that?”

“What’s so bad about it? I don’t understand!”

“That’s just it! You’re not supposed to understand it!” He yelled standing up straight, pushing his chair back so hard it squeaked and probably left a scrape on the floor. “Go to your room.”

I furrow my brows, and stand up, “No.”

“(Y/N), go. I’m done with this conversation.” My father looked down at the table, his hands that lay on the table ready to claw their way through with the writhing anger, he had buried deep within.

“I’m not leaving!” I yelled.

“Go!” My father said but the voice much darker, and it felt like that voice. I felt my body being controlled yet again wanting to obey my father’s word, and it did.

I started to move away from the dining table and took a few steps, before realizing I wasn’t doing this on my own free will. I stopped moving my body then and there.

How..?

My dad wordlessly motioned for the guards to grab me by my arms and forcefully removed me from the room.

“Let me go!” I exclaimed, but no matter how hard I thrashed and kicked, they continued to listen to my father’s ridiculous command.

They set me in my room before closing the door and held it shut, seeing as it could only lock from the inside. I banged on the door with my balled up fists, and kicked it, hoping something would happen, but it never did.

I was trapped. And the person that trapped me, in my own room, happened to be my father.

It hurt.

—————

Over in Caladan, the Homeworld of House Atreides, they were getting ready for the Arrival of the Emperor’s Herald.

Paul had been having dreams the previous night, resulting in him being up and at the table earlier than he normally would.

And lucky for him his mother was especially observant that morning.

“You look tired? More dreams?” She asked, Paul had stayed quiet before deciding on not worrying her with any more dreams he’d been having.

He replied with a ‘no,’ and nothing more, continuing to eat his breakfast in silence.

Before Paul was to be in the front of the house to meet the Emperor he was studying more on the Fremen and the sand creatures that lived amongst them.

——

“Smile, Gurney.”

“I am smiling.” He replied, his face not at all contouring, only remaining stone faced as the Emperor arrived.

“How much will it cost them, traveling all this way for this formality?”

“Three Guild Navigators. A total of 1.46 million, 62 Solaris, round trip.”

“By the grace of Shaddam IV of House Corrino, ascendant to the Golden Lion Throne of Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, I stand before you as Herald of the Change. We are witnessed by members of the Imperial Court, representatives of the Spacing Guild, and a sister of the Bene Gesserit.” The Herald announced and Jessica looked to have taken in a deep breath upon looking at the sister from the Bene Gesserit, practically going stone solid with how tense she had gotten.

“The Emperor has spoken.”

“House Atreides shall immediately take control of Arrakis and serve as its steward.”

“Do you accept?” The Herald asked waiting for confirmation, and Leto walked forward setting his ring in the melted wax to form a seal on the paper after giving a speech.

“So, it’s done?” He asked the Herald.

“It’s done.” And with that everyone left after the Herald and everyone on the spacecraft had left for home.

But one person had instead left had came and welcomed themself inside the House and stumbled upon, Lady Jessica.

———

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to come here, I needed to talk to you, to learn more.” Jessica shushed me and watched as one of the servant rounded the corner.

“No, you shouldn’t have come here. It was a mistake telling you anything about-”

“Who? My mother. Let’s be honest, I was going to learn about her sooner or later.” Jessica put a finger over her mouth silently telling me to be quiet.

“Lady Jessica? Lady Jessica?” A female servant called out to her, probably been informed of her presence by the other servant that Jessica saw.

“Stay right here.” She demanded of me, and I rolled my eyes as she walked away, to talk to the servant.

I turned around finding one of the doors open slightly ajar, I checked to see if Jessica was still talking and decided to step inside, it was their own training room.

“Seems liked déjà vu doesn’t it?”

I walked over to the tables in the room, and gently ran my fingers along the wooden tables. “(Y/N)?” I tensed up and turned around to meet Paul’s eye.

‘Déjà vu, is it. Isn’t it?’ I thought to myself.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had a question.” I stated bluntly, not wanting to get into the details.

“You came all the way down here, because of a question?” Paul asked, or snapped at me more so.

“You don’t get it, Paul. Okay?” I said, balling my fists up.

“What am I not get-?” I watched as someone walked into the room.

“Who is that?”

“No one. It’s okay, Gurney.” Paul said, trying to get Gurney to calm down, and diffuse the situation. “You let someone in without letting your father know?”

“Gurney, listen.” Paul pleaded, as he played his assortment of weapons on the table, taking one out, and stepped closer to me.

“I just need to talk to Lady Jessica.” I blurted out.

“You show up here unannounced, and demand to speak to her? That’s not going to happen.” He stepped closer till my back was flush up against the wall behind me, and his sword lay on my throat.

“Gurney!” Paul called as he stood right next to us, watching Gurney’s every move. “Don’t.” He listened and removed his sword from my throat, and I made a beeline for the exit.

A part of me longed for Paul to chase after me.. he didn’t.

Perhaps it was for the best.

————

I walked back to where I stood with Jessica and watched as she stalked over to me looking both furious and annoyed. “Where did you go? I told you to remain here!”

“Well, I’m here now, can we please go somewhere else?” Jessica would normally be a bit snappy, but she sensed something was wrong, so she softened up and took me to the libraries entrance.

“You know why you’re here, and you know what you want from me.” She stated looking me in the eyes. “If you truly want to uncover such things, then I will not stop you from walking into the library.”

I nod, and open the door and walk inside. “So, be it. You have made your choice.” She said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Let this not be a waste of time.” She walked past me, and I felt a sense of uncertainty swell up in my chest.

Nevertheless, I have made my choice. And I will have to face it.

No matter the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

#fluff #angst #x reader #paul atreides x black!reader #paul atreides x reader #dune #dune movie #paul atreides

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